The Mystic Tavern had returned to a quiet calm. Warm light from the lanterns gleamed off polished wood, and the faint scent of spices lingered in the air.
The earlier commotion with the troublemakers was already a distant memory. Behind the counter, Lennox watched the five adventurers seated at the corner table, their voices buoyant as they finished yet another round of Emberbrew Ale.
Garrick stood near the door like a silent guardian, his imposing frame a reassuring presence. Lennox glanced at him briefly before returning his focus to the adventurers.
The group had ordered seven rounds of ale, amounting to 35 mugs in total. At 50 silver coins per mug, that brought the night's earnings to 1,750 silver coins—or 17 gold and 50 silver.
Of course, 75% of the earnings—1,313 silver coins—would go to the System for raw materials and maintenance, leaving Lennox with 437 silver. Adding the earlier sales to One-Eyed George, Lennox realized he had earned nearly five gold coins in profit on his first night of running the tavern.
It wasn't an earth-shattering fortune, but it was a promising start.
Just then, the adventurers finally stood up, their movements slightly unsteady from the potent effects of the Emberbrew Ale.
Roland, the apparent leader of the group, steadied himself against the table, grinning as he looked toward Lennox. "That was the best ale we've had in years," he said. His tone, though relaxed, carried the weight of sincerity.
Torric let out a booming laugh. "If we weren't adventurers, I'd suggest we set up camp here permanently!"
As they approached the counter on their way to the door, Kael's sharp gaze wandered toward the gleaming bottles on the shelves behind Lennox. "Do you have anything stronger than what we just had?" he asked, his curiosity evident.
Lennox's lips curved into a small smile. "Stronger and better," he replied. "Eluna's Nectar, Twilight Mirage, Infernal Emberwine, and Glacier's Kiss are all available." He gestured to the bottles on the shelves, their subtle glow catching the light. "But if you're looking for something truly unforgettable, I'd recommend Celestial Dew, Crimson Fang Brew, or Phantom Orchid Wine. They're a step above, guaranteed to leave an impression."
The adventurers exchanged glances, their interest piqued. Torric rubbed his chin, his expression torn. "Sounds tempting, but we've already spent enough for one night."
Roland chuckled softly. "Tomorrow's another day." He turned to Lennox. "We've got a quest in the Ebonridge Mountains tomorrow. If it goes well, we'll be back tomorrow night with more gold to spare."
Taking the opportunity, Lennox leaned forward slightly, keeping his tone casual but curious. "Do you usually obtain magical beast cores from your hunts?"
Roland raised a brow, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "but only if luck's on our side."
Lyra shook her head and leaned on the bar counter. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, her tone sharp but curious. "Otherwise, you'd know cores aren't something adventurers like us just stumble across every day."
Torric grinned, clearly enjoying the opportunity to explain. "The thing is, beasts with magical cores are already at Rank One. They're no joke. Hunting one outright? That's suicide for most parties." He crossed his arms, his chainmail clinking slightly. "You'd need a full squad of chi-awakened warriors or novice mages to even think about it."
Elara nodded, her tone measured. "The only time we can realistically get our hands on a core is if we're lucky enough to find a severely injured Rank-One beast, or…" She hesitated, glancing at Roland.
"Or if it's just given birth," Roland finished, his voice low. "And even then, it's still risky business."
Lennox frowned slightly, processing the information. "So most magical beasts in the wild don't have cores?"
Kael, who had been listening intently, spoke up, his voice quiet but precise. "Correct. Only magical beasts that have reached Rank One develop cores. It's a sign they've crossed a major threshold in their growth. Before that, they're just ordinary creatures with some minor magical traits."
"Minor traits?" Lennox asked, intrigued.
Kael nodded, his sharp eyes lighting up with scholarly enthusiasm. "Take the Razorvine Stalker, for example. It's technically not a Rank-One beast, but its camouflage abilities are extraordinary. It can blend perfectly into the environment, making it nearly impossible to spot until it attacks."
"Those things are a nightmare," Lyra muttered, shuddering slightly. "I almost walked straight into one the last time we were out."
"And let's not forget the Shadowfang Lynx," Torric added, his grin fading. "Fast, silent, and lethal. No core, but you'd be dead before you knew it was there."
Elara tilted her head, her tone calm but firm. "You're more likely to find beasts with cores if you go deeper into the wild. But the danger isn't just the beasts—it's the environment, too. The deeper you venture into the Ebonridge Mountains, the more the terrain works against you. Steep cliffs, unstable ground, hidden ravines…" She paused, her gaze steady. "And let's not forget the stronger beasts lurking out there. Even experienced adventurers have been lost."
Roland gestured toward Kael, who had resumed scribbling in his journal. "That's why we take him with us. His notes help us map areas we've been to before, and his spells give us an edge when things get hairy."
Lennox nodded, fascinated by their accounts. "So when you do come across a core, what do you do with it?"
"Sell it, usually," Roland said with a shrug. "There's always demand for cores—mages, warriors, nobles, even merchants. Everyone wants them for something, whether it's crafting, enhancing their gear, or powering some spells."
Kael looked up from his notes, his expression thoughtful. "If we ever find one and don't have immediate use for it, we could let you know."
"That would be appreciated," Lennox replied evenly, filing the information away for later.
Lyra leaned forward, her green eyes narrowing playfully. "What about you, barkeep? Why so curious about cores? Don't tell me you're planning to go hunting yourself."
Lennox chuckled, deflecting the question with ease. "Let's just say I like to know what my patrons deal with. Besides, it sounds like good conversation material for the next time you're here."
Roland smirked faintly but didn't press further. "Fair enough. And if we do come across anything interesting, we'll keep you in mind."
The conversation then shifted to lighter topics, with Torric boasting about his strength, Lyra teasing him mercilessly, and Elara gently reminding them all to stay focused for tomorrow's quest. After a few more laughs and a round of farewells, the group finally left the tavern, promising to return.
As the door swung shut behind them, the Mystic Tavern fell into a tranquil stillness. The faint creak of wooden beams mingled with the distant hum of life outside—a muffled blend of laughter and shouting from Greywater's still-open taverns, the occasional bark of stray dogs, and the far-off, almost haunting roars of beasts in the wilderness beyond the town's borders.
Lennox glanced at Garrick, who stood steadfast by the door, offering him a silent nod. Taking a deep breath, Lennox began tidying up. He moved slowly and methodically, still new to the routine, wiping down tables and setting chairs back in place with a mix of focus and growing familiarity.
One by one, he extinguished the lanterns, the room growing darker until the only illumination came from the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. The enchanted bottles on the shelves glinted softly, catching the dim light. Finally, Lennox approached the door, bolted it shut, and flipped the sign to signal the tavern was closed for the night.
"Time to call it a day," he murmured, glancing at Garrick, who followed him as he ascended the stairs to the attic.
The Tavern Master's Quarters had been transformed since the System's refurbishment. The modest, rustic space from earlier was now a far cry from its former self. The bed was large and inviting, draped in plush linens with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light.
A sturdy mahogany desk sat by the window, adorned with a sleek ink set and a stack of blank parchment. Nearby, a bookshelf filled with neatly organized tomes and scrolls radiated an air of mystery, as if its contents held secrets waiting to be discovered. A small alcove revealed a polished wardrobe with elegantly carved designs, completing the refined, almost regal ambiance.
Lennox lingered in the doorway, taking it all in. His gaze drifted down the narrow hallway leading to the Employees' Quarters, where Garrick would stay. The whole space was a testament to the Mystic Tavern's power and its potential.
Leaning against the doorframe, Lennox's thoughts wandered. It was his first day in this strange new world, and already so much had happened. He'd narrowly escaped death at the hands of thugs, witnessed the magic of the Mystic Tavern's Safe Haven feature, and seen the tavern's magical transformation. The weight of it all pressed on him, but beneath the pressure was a flicker of excitement.
This world was dangerous and unpredictable, but it brimmed with opportunities. Opportunities he was determined to seize.
"Tomorrow's another day, another adventure," he muttered with a faint smile, stepping into his room.
Garrick, standing a few meters away, offered a low hum of acknowledgment before disappearing into the Employees' Quarters.