'Celia… Why did you run off like that?' Her thoughts raced, but there was no time to dwell. Slapping herself lightly on the cheeks to refocus, she quickly strode across the room, plastering on her practiced smile as she approached a customer.
"How may I help you today?" Her voice, calm and soothing, carried an almost magical ability to dissolve tension. She was the tavern's best waitress, known for her warmth and charm. Her smile alone was enough to disarm most patrons.
But not all.
The brutish man sitting at the far table, unkempt and reeking of stale alcohol, slapped his meaty hand against his thigh, loud and clear, gesturing for her to come closer. His grin widened, exposing yellowed teeth, as he leaned back in his chair, his gut spilling over his belt. The massive bald spot on his head glistened under the dim light of the tavern.
"Come here, girl. Why don't you take a seat right here?" he sneered, patting his thigh again for emphasis.
'Not again…' The thought flashed through her mind like lightning, but her smile remained firmly in place. She let out a laugh, though it came out uneven and forced, betraying her discomfort. Her legs staggered slightly, the confident rhythm of her steps faltering as she hesitated.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
This wasn't the first time she had dealt with someone like him. Men like this came to the tavern often, drunk on ale and entitlement, believing her role as a waitress gave them the right to treat her as they pleased.
Still, she couldn't afford to lose composure. Her position relied on her charm, and while her beauty brought in generous tips and affection from many patrons, it also made her a target for the worst of them.
"Ah, no need to be shy, lass," the man drawled, his grin stretching wider as he leaned forward. "I'll tip you well, real well, if you just keep me company a while."
Her fingers tightened around the tray she was holding, nails digging into the wood as she forced herself to maintain her demeanor.
"I appreciate your offer, sir, but I'm afraid I have other customers waiting." She added a playful laugh at the end, a delicate touch to avoid escalation.
The man's grin faltered for a moment before he slammed his hand against the table, causing the mugs to rattle. "Come on now! Don't be like that. Don't make me ask twice."
The noise drew the attention of a few nearby patrons, but none dared intervene. Fervent gossip begins spreading amongst them like an echo chamber of unhealthy distain.
Her breath hitched as her gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape, but the tavern was bustling, and everyone seemed to deliberately avoid meeting her eyes. She was on her own. While it was in their best interest to receive a level of respect from Celia, it wasn't enough to argue and banter against an uncouth man who looked like he could pick a fight at any moment. It wasn't worth the hassle.
Over on the other side, Noah was still slumped, tired from all the thinking. But, he woke up inexplicably when he heard disturbing sounds. Sounds he would hear when he had to assassinate rich, noble individuals filled with hypocrisy and entitlement.
It really hit him a bad nerve as he lay his eyes barring across the room towards a particular person of issue.
'Celia…' It's in his best interest to not delve into a situation where he had nothing to gain. But it was Celia out of all people, it tugged his heart greatly.
Celia then whistled, "Father!" Quickly, a man from upstairs came rushing down hearing the faint sounds of helplessness.
He was tall, muscular in size, his knuckles were solid and reflecting like iron, his skin tone a little darker than pale, he wore a dark brown cloth shirt, navy work pants and fine, brown leather boots.
Stroking his brown mustache, he asks Celia with a perplexingly quiet voice, "What is the matter dear?"
"He is bullying me." The tavern owner looks at the suspect at hand, drawing his commanding presence ever slightly closer to him. His intimidation causes the drunken fella to stand up in a fit of rage.
"Hey! How c—an you just believe what ever she says?! I was the one who was hurt not her!" Feeling cornered, the man observes the unnerving and cold stares from neighbouring patrons, Celia and her non-biological father, Victor.
"I don't see anyone speaking up for you though? Look at my wonderful and sweet child, she is crying." Celia teared up feeling that brief moment of helplessness.
Victor had no choice but to do one thing. "There's a thing with patrons who don't act like patrons." Tugging the drunken man's shirt, revealing his massive pot belly, Victor began delivering a small but telling headbutt showing that he wasn't to mess with as well as his foster daughter, Celia.
The drunken man staggers, falling flat on his buttock. Scared witless, he gestures Victor to get away, "I'm sorry."
"I despise the entitled ones the most! Filthy and despicable!"
Sending the drunken man flying forward through the short, wooden doors, he caused a mini updraft of wind circulating across his body.
Noah who watched with intrigue thought Celia's father to be quite interesting, showing his attentive side of himself.
Wrapping her arms around Victor left arm, she playfully showed her love for her protective foster father.
"Thanks, father." She smiled, her tears or traces of tears weren't to be scene, it as if there weren't tears to begin win.
'Is that what it means to protect those that you hold dear?' Noah understood some principles behind this mentality, this mindset.
A mindset of placing yourself first before others, giving them hope and a sense of emotional attachment. This emotional attachment what drives many individuals to awaken, to grow stronger. How does this happen? There can only be one answer for that with Victor.
Noah had guessed it, Victor must of had connections with the Mindset ritual either within an academy or the church.
But what caused his analysis to falter was, did he naturally awaken this Mindset? Did he perhaps used a Mindset scroll to awaken it at an earlier stage? How did he even manage to awaken his Mindset? There were so many questions channeling Noah to think on overdrive. Who was Victor, how did he achieve this Mindset of his in order to show such supernatural capabilities?
The updraft of wind wasn't a mere recoil of a reaction to force, there was something else mystical behind the wind surrounding Victor.
'Interesting…' Noah eyes sparkle with excitement, a roaring engine deep within his body started to manifest, a sensation he hadn't felt in awhile.
"So the process does matter…" A sudden spark of realisation perpetuated a new profound feeling, settling within his soul.