As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the bustling port town, Aira and Kellan found themselves lingering near a run-down tavern on the edge of the docks. The scent of brine and rust filled the air, mixing with the smells of cheap ale and cooking meat from nearby stalls. It was an unremarkable place, the kind of establishment where information was cheap, but at a cost—one that Aira wasn't sure they were ready to pay.
The young man who had offered to help them locate Ren leaned against the wall just inside the tavern, his eyes flicking over the pair of them with a knowing smirk. He had the look of someone who thrived in the shadows of the world—dirty, disheveled, yet with a certain sharpness to his gaze that made Aira uneasy.
"Well, looks like you're willing to play after all," the man said, his voice low and laced with amusement. "But everything comes at a price. Can't be helping you out for free, now, can I?"
