Valen sat at the bar, a half-empty mug of ale in his hand, his emerald-green eyes reflecting the dim, flickering glow of lanterns hanging from the rafters. The bar was alive with noise—boisterous laughter, clinking glasses, and drunken chatter. Valen leaned back, taking another swig, his expression dark but composed.
"Hah! Another round!" he called, slamming the mug down, his voice cutting through the noise like a whip. People turned to look, their laughter faltering, unsure whether to cheer or to shrink away from his commanding presence.
As the bartender hesitated to refill his drink, a sudden commotion caught Valen's attention. Across the bar, a wiry man with darting eyes and trembling hands reached into the pocket of an unconscious patron.
Valen stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. The bar fell silent in an instant. His emerald eye glinted like a blade in the dim light as he fixed his gaze on the thief.
