In mere moments, the once lively tavern was emptied, leaving only Caesar, his men, and the tavern owner's slightly bewildered wife. Caesar stepped deliberately toward the groaning middle-aged leader sprawled on the floor, pressing his boot against the man's waist. "Who gave you the guts to rob money from the Garrel Kingdom's army?" Caesar's voice was calm but carried an icy edge. After all, the money in this tavern ultimately came from the soldiers' wages — the army's money.
"My lord, I was wrong! I won't dare again," the middle-aged man stammered, clutching his bleeding mouth as he bowed low, trembling in submission. He knew better than to argue with Garrel soldiers. Seeing the man admit defeat and the gang thoroughly subdued, Caesar decided not to press the matter further. Under Baron Hillard's strict military discipline, excessive violence against civilians was forbidden.
"Get lost!" Caesar barked, kicking the man aside. The group scrambled to their feet, retreating hastily with heads bowed in shame. The tavern fell eerily silent once more.
The tavern owner's wife, still frozen in place, snapped out of her daze when Caesar coughed lightly. "My lord... thank you... I..." she stammered, her voice trembling with both fear and gratitude.
"It's fine," Caesar replied curtly. He had intervened because he found her appealing, and now that the matter was settled, he was ready to leave. "If there's nothing else, we're heading back." He gestured to his men, who began to file out of the tavern. Outside, the glow of torches illuminated the barracks, and Caesar muttered under his breath, hoping there was still some dinner left for his squad.
As Caesar reached the doorway, he heard a faint sound of sobbing behind him. He paused, turned around, and saw the tavern owner's wife slumped over the bar, crying softly. Caesar hesitated, then ordered his men to proceed without him before walking back into the tavern.
He gently placed a hand on her trembling shoulder. "Come on, stop crying. Tell me what's wrong, and I'll help you," he said awkwardly.
Her sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her arms. Caesar sighed. He was well-versed in dealing with enemies and unruly thugs, but comforting a weeping woman? That was an entirely different battlefield. He sat stiffly on a nearby stool, staring straight ahead with an expression that was equal parts stern and clueless.
Time passed, and eventually, her sobs quieted into occasional sniffles. When she dared to glance at him, Caesar was still sitting there, unmoving, like an awkward statue. Despite herself, she let out a soft, amused laugh. In that moment, she realized that beneath Caesar's cold exterior was a young man not much older than a boy, struggling with emotions he didn't know how to handle.
Caesar blinked, startled by her laughter. It was different from the polite smile she gave customers; this was genuine, lighthearted, and oddly charming. For a moment, he was caught off guard. Chassie, as she was called, blushed and lowered her head.
"Thank you... again," she said softly.
"It's fine," Caesar replied, scratching the back of his neck. By now, the barracks were likely done serving dinner, and Caesar realized he wasn't in any rush to leave.
Their eyes met again, neither knowing what to say. Caesar, in an attempt to lighten the mood, shifted his gaze and caught sight of a few scattered pieces of women's clothing on the bar. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
Chassie followed his gaze and let out a startled squeal, throwing herself over the pile of clothing to block his view. Her sudden movement caused her loose blouse to slip slightly, revealing a hint of her ample figure.
Caesar froze, eyes wide. "S-So big..." he muttered under his breath before realizing he'd spoken aloud.
Chassie turned crimson and hastily grabbed the clothes, trying to shield herself while also collecting the scattered garments. Her flustered movements made her look like a startled rabbit, and despite the tension, Caesar couldn't help but chuckle softly.
After some fumbling, Chassie finally managed to gather her belongings and clutch them tightly against her chest. Caesar cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
"Well... since it's getting late, I should head back to camp," Caesar said awkwardly, turning towards the door.
"W-Wait!" Chassie called out, stopping him. Her face was still flushed as she hesitated. "You... you haven't eaten yet, have you? Why don't you stay and have dinner here?"
Caesar's stomach chose that moment to let out an audible growl, and both of them froze before breaking into small, embarrassed smiles.
"That... sure, if it's no trouble," Caesar agreed.
Chassie nodded hurriedly, pushing a wooden board across the tavern entrance to indicate closing time before disappearing into the kitchen to prepare a meal. As she walked away, her curvy figure swayed slightly, and Caesar found himself letting out a resigned sigh. She was a mature woman, beautiful and vulnerable, yet strong in her own way.
While Chassie cooked, Caesar busied himself by gathering the scattered copper coins from earlier, carefully wrapping them back into their original cloth pouch. The tavern was dimly lit, but Caesar's sharp eyes, trained by years of night patrols, made the task easier.
In the quiet warmth of the tavern, Caesar felt a rare sense of peace, though he couldn't quite place why.