Scene 1: A Moment's Rest
The sunlight spilled through the treetops, casting soft, golden patches on the forest floor as Elliotte and Christopher trudged out of the cave. The oppressive weight of the previous trial gave way to a momentary calm, and the fresh air was a welcome contrast to the suffocating gloom they had left behind.
Christopher groaned, stretching his arms with a theatrical yawn. "I'm beat," he muttered, flopping down onto the ground beneath a sprawling oak tree. Its thick branches cast a cool shade, shielding them from the midday sun.
Elliotte leaned against the trunk, exhaling slowly. "Maybe we should take a break. Catch our breath before moving on."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Christopher said, already leaning back with his hands behind his head.
But the relative peace was broken by the unmistakable sound of a growling stomach. Christopher sat up, clutching his abdomen with a sheepish grin. "Uh… yeah. Might also need to catch a meal while we're at it."
Elliotte raised an eyebrow, realization dawning on him. "Hold on. We've been traveling for days—don't tell me you didn't pack any real food."
Christopher blinked, then laughed nervously. "What are you talking about? We've had food—forest fruits, wild berries—nature's buffet!"
"Berries aren't a meal, Christopher. Whose bright idea was it to skip proper rations?" Elliotte asked, crossing his arms.
"Yours!" Christopher shot back, jabbing a finger at him. "You're supposed to be the 'noble hero.' Isn't planning ahead part of your job description?"
Elliotte sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, you keep calling yourself the 'brains of the operation.' Where's your genius plan now?"
Their banter was interrupted by the faint creak of wagon wheels on the forest path. Both men turned to see a small caravan approaching—a group of four merchants hauling carts laden with goods. Christopher shot to his feet, waving them down.
"Hey! Over here!" he called out, his voice cheerful but a little desperate. "Sorry to bother you, but my buddy and I are starving. Know any good inns nearby?"
The merchants slowed their wagons, exchanging wary glances. After a brief pause, one of them, a burly man with a weathered face, nodded. "We're headed to an inn ourselves. You can follow us if you'd like."
Elliotte stepped forward, his tone polite but cautious. "Thank you. We'd appreciate the help."
As they walked behind the caravan, Christopher leaned closer to Elliotte, whispering, "Why're we lagging back here? They're getting ahead of us."
"Because it's better to stay sharp," Elliotte murmured, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees. "We don't know these people. They could be leading us into a trap."
One of the merchants overheard and chuckled softly. "You're not wrong to be wary, lad. These roads aren't as safe as they used to be. But rest assured—we've got no reason to harm you."
Another merchant spoke up. "A caravan like ours got ambushed by bandits just last week, not far from here. You'd do well to stay on your guard."
Elliotte's expression darkened slightly. "Thanks for the warning."
Scene 2: The Restful Grove
After an hour of walking, the group arrived at a clearing where a quaint inn stood nestled at the edge of the forest. Its wooden sign creaked gently in the breeze, etched with the name The Restful Grove. Smoke curled from its chimney, carrying the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread.
The burly merchant turned to the two travelers. "This is where we part ways," he said, tipping his hat. "Good luck on your journey."
Elliotte nodded politely. "Thanks for leading us here."
As they stepped inside, the inn buzzed with activity. Patrons crowded around tables, their laughter mingling with the clink of mugs and the distant tune of a lute played by a musician near the hearth. Christopher inhaled deeply, his eyes brightening as he caught the delicious scent of food.
"This," he declared, gesturing toward the bustling room, "is paradise. I'm eating enough to feed a small army."
Elliotte smirked. "Don't overdo it. We still have a journey ahead."
They approached the counter, where a wiry man stood polishing a mug. His eyes flicked over them, lingering on Elliotte's fine gear and Christopher's weapons. A sly grin crept onto his face as he leaned forward, his tone dripping with false cheer.
"Welcome to The Restful Grove! A night's stay, including food, will cost you 20 glints."
Elliotte frowned, his arms crossing. "20 glints? For two people?"
The innkeeper's grin widened. "That's the price, young man. We run a respectable establishment here."
Before Elliotte could argue, Christopher stepped forward, his usually laid-back expression replaced with something far sharper. His Kataras remained sheathed, but the dangerous glint in his eye was enough to send a chill down the innkeeper's spine.
"Listen," Christopher said, his voice calm but edged with steel, "I don't like people who try to cheat me. It puts me in a bad mood. And when I'm in a bad mood…" He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Let's just say it doesn't end well for anyone."
The innkeeper's confident smile faltered, his hands gripping the counter as sweat began to bead on his forehead. "Ah—uh—of course! My mistake! Let's call it 10 glints for the both of you. That's fair, isn't it?"
Christopher tilted his head, his gaze still piercing. "That's more like it."
Elliotte, ever composed, placed 15 glints on the counter. "Here," he said calmly. "Five extra—for good service. And make sure the food is ready quickly."
The innkeeper nodded furiously, scooping up the coins with trembling hands. "Yes, sir! Right away!" He disappeared into the kitchen, barking frantic orders to the staff.
Christopher turned to Elliotte, his stern demeanor melting into confusion. "Why'd you give him extra? The guy was trying to scam us!"
Elliotte smiled, slipping into a chair at a nearby table. "Don't worry—it wasn't my money anyway."
Christopher blinked. "Wait... what?" His hands darted to his pockets, patting them down. A slow realization dawned on him as his eyes widened in horror. "You—you took my money?!"
Elliotte leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let's call it a lesson in trust."
Christopher groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You little—!"
Before he could finish, a waiter arrived with a steaming platter piled high with roasted meat, warm bread, and golden vegetables. Christopher's indignation vanished in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed hunger.
"Alright," he muttered, grabbing a fork. "I'll let it slide this time. But only because I'm starving."
Elliotte chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for a piece of bread. "You're impossible."
As they ate, the lively chatter of the inn filled the air. Elliotte's ears perked up as he caught snippets of a nearby conversation.
"...Spotted a strange glow in the Forest of Duskthorn last night," one patron murmured, his voice hushed. "Probably nothing but fireflies, but still… eerie."
His companion scoffed. "Eerie's an understatement. You'd have to be mad to go near that forest with all the stories."
Elliotte frowned slightly, filing the information away. He didn't share his thoughts with Christopher, who was too busy devouring the meal in front of him.
For now, they had a moment to breathe. But Elliotte couldn't shake the feeling that their next trial was closer than they realized.