The inn was cozy but clearly bustling with festival-goers. They had managed to secure just three rooms—two large, one small. When the doors creaked open, it was obvious why.
"Only three?" Julian muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We're going to be cramd like sardines."
"Oh, don't be so gloomy!" Luca said, practically bouncing on one of the beds before Ren pulled him off. "It'll be fun! We all get to sleep together!"
Lilith stretched like a cat, claiming her private room with zero guilt. "Mhm. I'll just enjoy my quiet, silky solitude while you all fight for pillow space."
Julian groaned. "Figures."
At the Inn Reception
The group gathered downstairs. It was nearing lunch, and the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen made stomachs growl.
Behind the reception desk stood the innkeeper—a round, jolly man with a nose that looked permanently sunburnt and a laugh that echoed before he even spoke. He wore an apron too small for his belly, and his thin mustache twitched every ti he smiled.
"Well, well, travelers from Caelora, eh?" he said, voice booming with cheer. "You've co just in ti. Lunch today is a local treasure—rice with beef curry, spiced and slow-cooked for three hours! I promise, you'll lick the plate clean."
"That depends," Lilith leaned forward with a grin. "Do you guarantee no diarrhea this ti?"
The innkeeper slapped his knee so hard his belly jiggled. "Ha! Lady, if my food gave people runs, Velderain would've burned alive years ago!"
Everyone chuckled. Even Kael's stoic lips twitched.
At the Dining Hall
They gathered around a long wooden table, the Iron Vows sitting with disciplined postures while the Elrics… didn't.
Luca imdiately drumd the table with his spoon. Lilith leaned on her elbow, chin in hand, not even trying to look elegant. She tore bread like a bandit at camp.
"Lady Lilith," Kael coughed, setting his knife perfectly parallel to his fork. "A young woman of stature should act… dignified. At least at the table."
Lilith raised an eyebrow, stuffing rice in her mouth. "Mmphh—dignity doesn't taste half as good as this beef."
That earned laughter from Saria, who was already sneaking extra portions of curry.
Plates and bowls ca in steaming, fragrant waves—fluffy rice, thick beef curry, roasted eggplants, pickled radish, and warm flatbread to mop it all up.
Everyone dug in with their own style. Gareth ate quietly, savoring each bite. Thorne leaned back, analyzing the spices like a critic. Julian ate carefully, back straight, while Ren looked like he wanted to disappear into the food without being noticed.
And then there was Luca.
He stuffed his cheeks like a squirrel, mixing curry with bread and rice, then held his spoon like a sword. "If I eat three more bowls," he announced proudly, "I'll be strong enough to wrestle Captain Moreau!"
The entire table erupted in laughter. Even Moreau's stern expression broke into a deep chuckle. "Careful, lad. Curry might fuel your fire, but my shield's still heavier than you."
The air was warm with spice and laughter.
After the al
When plates were cleared, the innkeeper arrived with the bill, scratching his nose. "Now, who's the fine payer of this rry bunch?"
The knights imdiately reached for their purses, but Ren raised a hand quickly. "No, not you. You're our guests here."
"But—" Moreau started.
"No buts," Ren cut him off gently but firmly. "We invited you. It's only proper."
Reluctantly, the knights leaned back. Ren settled the paynt with the innkeeper, who grinned wide enough to make his mustache wiggle again.
Plans for the Festival
Bellies full, they all leaned back with varying degrees of satisfaction. Lilith lazily stretched, almost dozing off. But Thorne clapped his hands.
"Alright. We'll rest briefly, but after that—festival ti."
They agreed to split up for efficiency.
Group 1: Lilith, Ren, Moreau, and Saria.
Group 2: Gareth and Thorne.
Group 3: Julian, Luca, Brell and Kael.
Lilith smirked. "Perfect. I'll have my own little adventure team."
"Just try not to terrorize the rchants," Julian muttered.
She winked. "No promises."
--------
Festival of Sunpetals
The four of them—Lilith, Ren, Captain Moreau, and Saria—stepped into the busy festival street. Colorful cloth banners stretched overhead, flowers tied to every lamp post, and the faint sweetness of blooming sunpetals wafted in the air. Stalls lined both sides of the road: sizzling skewers, steaming dumplings, sweet fritters, jewelry gleaming on wooden racks, trinkets carved from bone and crystal.
The mont Lilith appeared, all the shouting vendors suddenly went silent—then louder.
"Lady! Lady, please, over here! Our skewers are half price for you!"
"No, no, honored one! Jewelry fit for your beauty, ten silvers less!"
"I'll give you two bowls for the price of one, just grace my stall!"
Every eye locked on her. Every rchant waved desperately.
Moreau frowned, standing straight like a fortress. "Don't get carried away. It's common for rchants to exaggerate when they see soone with presence."
Ren sighed, rubbing his temple. "More like they see her as a walking purse. Don't rob the poor n blind, Lilith."
Lilith smirked. "Rob them? Please. I'm giving them the honor of selling to ." She swayed her hips just enough to make a vendor trip over his own stool.
Saria's eyes darted to one stall in particular: a large iron pot bubbling with sothing golden. The sll of fried spice drifted over. He licked his lips, then looked away quickly.
Lilith noticed instantly. "Oh? Sothing caught your eye, Saria?"
He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Just… fried rivercakes. Haven't had them in years. They only make them during Sunpetal Festival. Dough stuffed with minced fish, deep-fried crisp, eaten with chili sauce." His voice carried a hint of longing.
"Well, that's settled," Lilith declared, grabbing Ren's sleeve. "We're eating that."
The stall keeper, a short man with wiry arms, nearly dropped his ladle when Lilith walked up. He bowed so fast his forehead almost touched the counter. "L-Lady! My humble stall… to think you'd grace it! Please, anything you want! Free—no, I'll pay you to eat my food!"
Lilith leaned across the counter, voice soft and dangerous. "Oh? Then why not give us… a friendly discount?"
The poor man lted like butter on a hot pan. "Y-Yes! Of course! For you, Lady, nearly free!"
By the ti she was done smiling sweetly and tilting her head, the price had dropped to a fraction. Ren had to step in before she talked the man into actually paying her to eat.
"Enough, Lilith. Let the man earn his living." He shoved coins into the vendor's palm, who looked ready to faint from joy.
They sat on a bench near the stall, nibbling on the crisp golden cakes. Oil glistened on their fingers, chili sauce stained lips, and for once even Moreau loosened his stern expression.
"Mmm." Lilith humd, savoring the crunch. "Alright, Saria, I'll admit you have taste."
Saria grinned smugly. "Told you."
That was when he appeared.
A wiry old man in rich robes, balding on top but with a long silver beard, shuffled up. His eyes sparkled with glee, and his voice carried the weight of a man who loved hearing himself speak.
"Ahhh, what an honor! To think a Lady herself walks among the humble folk of Velderain!" He clapped his hands, attracting attention. "Yes, yes! This is a most historic mont indeed! Did you know, dear Lady, that our festival dates back 300 years, when the first Sunpetals blood along the River Veyra?"
Lilith blinked, halfway through her bite. "…Who's this fossil?"
The old man puffed out his chest. "I am Mayor Halden, the proud custodian of Velderain! Allow to regale you with the glorious history of our traditions—"
And so he launched into a storm of words. About sunpetals, about founding heroes, about "how honored we are, so very honored, truly beyond honored."
Ren tried to interrupt politely. "Sir, perhaps later—"
But the mayor was unstoppable. Even Moreau, usually stone-faced, shifted uncomfortably. Saria whispered to Lilith, "I think this guy's been waiting his whole life to corner a woman and lecture her."
Lilith leaned her chin on her palm, staring at the mayor with a blank expression. "So basically… flowers bloom, people eat, and you give long speeches? That's the culture?"
Mayor Halden didn't notice the sarcasm. "Exactly! Ah, such perceptiveness! Our traditions are sacred, passed down from the anc—"
Lilith groaned. "Soone save ."
---------
While Lilith was being cornered by Mayor Halden's endless lecture, Gareth and Thorne made their way to the riverside.
The festival streets opened up near a wide pond that shimred under the noon sun. Lanterns floated on the water's edge, and dozens of people—young and old—lined the banks, rods in hand, cheering, groaning, and shouting.
Thorne's eyes lit up. "A fishing contest, eh? Look at those beauties in the water. That pond connects straight to the Veyra. Big ones swimming in from the river."
Gareth tilted his head, adjusting his glasses. "It looks crowded."
"Bah, that's half the fun," Thorne grinned. He pointed to a signboard where the rules were written:
'Fishing Rod Rental – 50 Narr.
Container Rental – 50 Narr.
Catch what you can, keep what you want!
Grand Prize: The Golden-Scaled Veyra Carp – ~20lb! Winner takes ho a pouch of 5000 Narr honorary fisherman's wreath.'
Thorne slapped Gareth's back. "Co on, let's give it a try. Fifty Narr is nothing for so fun."
Reluctantly, Gareth nodded, handing coins to the stall owner. Both were given simple rods and hooks, and squeezed into a spot between locals. The air slled of river mist, fried snacks from nearby stalls, and excitent.
The crowd erupted suddenly as a boy of about twenty reeled in a fat silver fish the size of his arm. "The fish shaman does it again!" soone yelled.
The boy raised the fish overhead with practiced flair, his ssy brown hair catching the light. Children cheered his na. Won giggled, swooning. n muttered with envy.
"Fish Shaman, Fish Shaman!" the crowd chanted.
Thorne snorted. "Hah. A local celebrity with a lucky hook."
Another cheer rang out. The boy had caught another one in minutes.
Gareth arched a brow. "Seems… more than luck."
Thorne's float suddenly dipped. "Hoho! Got one!" He pulled, rod bending, until a decent-sized carp flopped onto the bank. Not too big, but respectable.
The crowd gave him polite claps.
"Not bad, outsider."
"Could've been bigger, though."
Thorne smirked and turned to Gareth. "Your turn. Bet you won't even get a nibble."
He reached down to place his fish into his pouch—only to realize he had none.
"Eh?"
The nearby attendant smirked. "Containers are extra, fifty Narr."
Thorne's eye twitched. "What kind of scam is that?" Still, he tossed another coin pouch down, muttering curses as the crowd laughed.
Minutes passed. Gareth sat calmly, adjusting his glasses every now and then. Thorne chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
Then Gareth's float bobbed. Once. Twice. Then dove under.
"Got one," Gareth murmured. He tugged gently, then harder, and suddenly had to stand, the rod bending almost into a U-shape.
The water splashed violently as sothing huge resisted. The crowd roared.
"Look at that pull!"
"Is it the Golden Carp?!"
Gareth's grip tightened. He pulled, leaning back with surprising strength for soone usually so dostic. Bit by bit, the water parted until a massive fish burst from the pond, glittering scales shimring like molten silver.
The crowd went wild.
"OUTSIDER CAUGHT A GIANT!"
Thorne's jaw dropped. "Wha—?!"
With one final heave, Gareth dragged the fish onto the bank. It flopped, heavy as a barrel, water spraying everywhere. The crowd's cheers shook the riverbank.
Continued...
Man! I enjoyed writting this chapter so much. It was really very fun.
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