We eventually arrived at our destination: the Iron Feast.
Imposing, the building looked as if it had been carved from a single block of black rock, as though it had been torn from the very bowels of the mountain itself. A large sign made of raw tal, studded with rivets, hung above the double doors: it showed a hamr crossed with a fork, engraved in relief like crests. The sll wafting from inside was intoxicating—a mix of roasted at, smoky spices, and fresh-baked bread.
Two statues of Gorr’Shan warriors flanked the entrance. Their stone faces bore the sa tattoos as their living counterparts: warrior spirals, runes of strength, tears of war. Their crossed arms held an axe and a tankard each, symbols of honor and camaraderie.
— Here we are. I said with a smile.
Lysara nodded gently, silent as always, but she had drawn a little closer to . Perhaps a sign of anticipation. Or simply curiosity.
Pushing open the door, we were greeted by comforting warmth and a muffled bustle. The inside of the Iron Feast was vast, carved amphitheater-style. The polished stone tables were arranged in concentric circles around a central hearth where massive cuts of at hung roasting above glowing embers. Muscular slaves—or perhaps very well-paid employees—slowly turned them using chains and pulleys attached to the ceiling.
War banners decorated the walls, telling tales of ancient battles in gold and bronze thread. Each table seed occupied by rcenaries, blacksmiths, or off-duty officers, their deep voices forming a constant hum punctuated by guttural laughs and the clinking of mugs.
We were guided to a table near the hearth, in a stone alcove carved directly into the wall. The heat from the embers bathed the area in an orange glow, and despite the room’s hustle and bustle, a strange calm surrounded us.
I sat across from Lysara. She sat without a word, hands laid flat on the table, her eyes following the flas, hypnotic. Her face, as closed off as ever, revealed nothing. But she hadn’t refused to co—that was already sothing.
The server returned, holding a rough slate covered in clumsy carvings representing the day’s dishes.
— Sothing light for the little one? he asked, casting a sideways glance.
I nodded.
— Nothing too spicy or too rich. And no alcohol. You got berry juice or sothing like that?
He nodded.
— Very well. Then for her, a plate of fried root cakes with a mild sauce, and a glass of marrowvine nectar. For ... sothing more substantial, but no gryphon at—I value my purse.
The server gave a knowing smile before walking away.
I turned to Lysara, who hadn’t moved an inch.
— That alright with you? I asked gently.
— Yes.
Still that neutral tone, that blank stare. But her fingers were gently tapping the table’s surface, as if following a lody only she could hear. A small sign of life.
— You know, it makes happy we can relax a little. These past days have been... a bit too rough, even for .
She slowly lifted her eyes toward , then whispered:
— ...Do you always talk this much?
I blinked, caught off guard.
Then I burst out laughing.
It wasn’t mocking.
It was genuine. Real. She had just jabbed at . And she knew it.
She slowly raised her eyes to et mine again and nodded. Her black kimono absorbed the firelight, giving her an almost unreal glow.
The al arrived soon after. The cakes were still steaming, golden and crispy, served with a small bowl of herbed cream. She took the first one without hesitation, tasted it, then took another bite—still without changing her expression.
— You like it?
— Yes.
I smiled. That single word, coming from her, ant more than any speech.
She didn’t need to say more. It wasn’t politeness. It was a bare truth, delivered like an offering. And I was here to receive it.
We ate in silence, but it was a pleasant silence. Not the kind that weighs on you or crushes you—no. The kind that comforts. The kind that connects.
One day, she might talk more. One day, she might laugh. But tonight, this silence was enough. It healed . It healed us.
The day had passed in an almost unreal calm.
That evening, we returned to the inn for a simple al, ward over a wood fire. Nothing exceptional, but after a quiet walk and the subdued turmoil of the city, it was enough. Lysara ate in silence, as always, her gaze lost sowhere between the table and the shadows of the beams.
Then, once again, the night was gentle. Uninterrupted. And for the second ti in a row, I woke without the slightest trace of fatigue. My body, my mind... everything was clear. Light.
In the morning, we set off again, enjoying this interlude while we could. This ti, we wandered a bit longer through the market districts, tasting here and there so strange sweets: solidified honey pearls, red fruit braids coated in black sugar, and even a roasted hazelnut paste sold by an old Gorr’Shan who guarded his recipe jealously.
With the few krags I had left, I wanted to treat Lysara. She hadn’t asked for anything, of course. She never asked for anything. But I saw her linger a bit longer in front of certain stalls, her gaze pausing, almost curious.
— Here, take this, I said, handing her a sweet rolled in a copper leaf. It’s sweet. And weird. Sounds like you, right?
— Yes.
A discreet reply. A slow bite. And again, that calm between us.
But this ti, she didn’t imdiately look away.
I thought I saw a twitch of her lips. Just a flicker.
As if she were savoring the taste... or the gesture.
The sun had dipped before we even noticed, and soon the shadow of the towers once again covered the streets. I patted my pockets.
Not a coin left.
I let out a brief, slightly nervous laugh.
— Well... looks like the reserves are officially dry. Maybe I went a little too hard on the comfort, huh?
Lysara turned her head toward and slowly shrugged. Her expression remained blank, but the silence she returned felt almost complicit.
I smiled.
— Let’s go to the guild.
She simply nodded, and we set off, walking along the dark, silent streets. The sun had disappeared behind the heights, and the reddish glow of wall torches gave the stone a warr hue than usual.
The guild building lood before us, massive, carved from the sa black rock as the rest of the city, but adorned with intricate engravings and worn banners. A double door of riveted tal guarded the entrance. I pushed it open without hesitation.
Crossing the threshold, my eyes widened, glowing with wonder once again.
Lysara entered beside , discreet, her gaze sweeping the room without emotion. She didn’t seem impressed or worried. Just... present.
As I turned to step further in, my gaze t that of a familiar figure behind the counter.
The usual receptionist. Tall, hair hastily tied, looking both bored and sharp. She lifted her eyes from her papers and fixed them on , a small smirk forming on her lips.
— Back again, huh?
I approached casually, raising my hand with an imaginary coin between my fingers.
— Yeah. I’m broke.
She chuckled softly, crossing her arms.
— Maybe I shouldn’t have recomnded such expensive spots to you.
— That’s true... But we made the most of it, I said with a glance at Lysara, who was studying a wall tapestry like it didn’t really exist.
Then I continued, more seriously:
— By the way, our rewards. Have you had ti to process what we sent? The Zar’Kha swarm carcasses—any progress?
She sighed slightly while checking a ledger.
— Our scout confird your report. You really crushed the swarm. Impressive work... especially with just the two of you. But we’ll still need two or three more days to bring back all the remains to town and tally up the usable resources.
I let out a small sigh, my mouth twisting into a mock-disappointed grimace.
— Ah, so that’s how it is...
But before I could say more, she added:
— However, I can already give you the base reward for the extermination. Since the verification’s done, no need to wait any longer.
I straightened a little, mock-solemn.
— I’d be grateful... please.
— Of course, she said with an amused smile.
She pulled out the quest sheet, aligned it on a registration stone, then stamped it with a magical seal that hissed softly. Then she opened a hidden drawer under the counter, took out a small tal chest, opened it, and began counting coins.
Then she handed the reward.
An enormous sum.
— This isn’t normally a quest for your rank. But the complete elimination of the swarm has been confird. So here: six Varkh.
I stood frozen, blinking.
— Varkh? I repeated, still in shock. For that swarm?
I recalled the figures swarming around , the rapid movents, the inhuman screams.
Those insectoid monsters with obsidian carapaces bristling with chitinous blades... Their sudden leaps at , like living projectiles. Their clawed limbs tore the ground, and their tails whipped the air with enough force to shatter a stone wall. They didn’t hunt... they stalked. In packs. Relentlessly.
Without my regeneration ability, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes against that black tide.
I took the coins carefully, feeling them almost burn in the hollow of my palm. Slowly slid them into my pouch, which I tucked deep into my cloak, pulling it tightly around with jealous care.
This was more than a reward. It was silent recognition, a validation that everything I had been through—the pain, the monsters, the creeping madness—had not been in vain.
As if each coin contained an echo of the Swarm.
As if the tal itself had been forged in suffering.
— Thank you, I murmured, closing my arms around the cloth like a dragon guarding its treasure.
I bowed politely to the receptionist with a nod.
— Thanks again. Really.
I was no longer just a survivor.
I was a guide, a recognized fighter. And sowhere behind , a child followed , grew.
And I had the responsibility not to fail.
— Keep your head on straight, huh. Wealth spends faster than it piles up, she grumbled in return.
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