The golden glow of early morning washed over the cobblestone streets as the carriage wheels screeched to a stop at the edge of New Mug City, a lively city tucked between misty hills and ancient roads. The horses exhaled steam, their journey long and steady through the night.
Thory stretched the moment her boots touched the ground, arms up, spine popping. She yawned. "Mmm. Nothing like a good sunrise and sore legs to remind you you're still alive."
Fen stepped down slowly, silent. His eyes were distant, and his thoughts still tangled with the chaos they left behind—the burning of Littleroot, the Valkyries, his mother, the terrifying power of the Baldurian prince. Everything weighed heavy in his chest.
He stood beside Thory, eyes on the horizon, quiet.
Thory gave him a side glance and elbowed him gently. "Hey. We traveled far to escape that brute. Why not take a short moment of fun?"
She grinned, already walking toward a nearby building with a swinging sign:
The Drunken Goat.
"Ahhh," she said. "I want a cold beer."
Fen blinked, following her as if on autopilot.
The tavern doors creaked open, revealing a surprising morning crowd of early risers, workers, and loud musicians playing lutes and drums in a cozy corner. The scent of stale ale and grilled meat clung to the air.
Thory slapped a coin on the bar and called out, "One mug, please!"
The bartender, a large man with a braided beard, handed her the frothing drink.
She chugged it down in a single go, eyes closed, then sighed in satisfaction. "Oh yes. That hits the soul."
The bartender looked over at Fen, raising an eyebrow. "And you, kid? What do you want?"
Fen shook his head. "No… nothing."
Thory wiped her mouth. "Come on, relax, Fen. That Baldurian doesn't know where we are now. We're safe. For now. Let yourself breathe, even just for a moment."
Fen tried to smile, but the weight still lingered.
Then, like a sudden shift in the wind, a bottle flew across the room and shattered near the fireplace.
The bar erupted into chaos—mugs flying, men and women brawling, laughter and shouts bouncing off the walls. Someone smashed a chair over someone else's back. A patron was lifted and thrown through a table.
Thory calmly leaned against the bar, still sipping her second mug, casually dodging a punch thrown over her head.
Fen ducked a flailing fist and sidestepped as a chair leg missed him by inches. His instincts kicked in, and he weaved and blocked, careful not to get dragged into the fight.
The musicians didn't stop playing—they sped up, matching the tempo of the chaos, grinning as if they'd seen this before.
Despite everything, Fen blinked in disbelief.
Thory raised her mug in a toast. "Now this... is how you start a morning!"
Fen let out a small laugh, shaking his head as a man tumbled past him.
Eventually, the bar brawl lost steam. People laughed off the scuffles, patted each other's backs, and sat down again like nothing had happened.
The musicians ended with a dramatic flourish, earning a round of claps.
Thory drained the last of her mug and turned to Fen, her smile faint but warm.
"See? Sometimes, the world doesn't need saving. Sometimes, it just needs a drink and a good brawl."
Fen gave a soft chuckle, some of the heaviness lifting, if only for a moment.