The Raging Eagle inn was quieter than usual, the usual roar of laughter and clatter of mugs dulled after the day's matches. Mae leaned against the table beside her twin, a crooked grin on her face. "Shame I missed the fight between the two metal men," she said, nodding toward Bryanard, who sat with his head wrapped in bandages, and Calvinel, who looked freshly restored from his time in the Healing Springs. "From what I'm hearing though, the other matches went about how we expected."
Her words trailed off as her attention shifted to Xain. Nearly every eye in the tavern was on him—Clara's and Even's most of all—while he sat looking far more uneasy than he wanted to admit. Mae rested a hand against her chest, her grin tilting playfully. "So, want to explain how you treated me earlier?" she teased.
Zee smacked her sister's hand away with a groan. "Stop it already," she muttered, then looked straight at Xain. "You don't need to explain if you don't want to."
"Well… he kind of did say he would explain it here," Ulrich reminded the group, as if anyone had forgotten. The weight of expectation still lingered in the air.
"I will," Xain said, his voice steadying, "but before that… can we talk about him?" His finger pointed toward the corner, where Gurion sat alone at a table. The demi-human hadn't touched his drink, ears drooping, tail slack against the chair leg.
"Hmm, we really should," Zeva said, pushing back her seat. She crossed the room without hesitation, the others exchanging glances before following her lead toward the defeated martial artist.
"Gurion?" Edluar called, his tone careful. "Zeva told us why you were fighting. Can you tell us more about it?"
Gurion's gaze sharpened, his fists clenching against his thighs. "It doesn't matter. I lost. Woodsmen Creek… my village… it's finished."
"What do you mean, finished?" Amos asked, scratching the back of his head. "What's going to happen to it, exactly?"
"Yeah, you haven't told us what's actually happening to your village," Zeva pressed, arms crossing firmly over her chest.
"I just told you, didn't I?" Gurion snapped, bitterness in his tone. He turned sharply to her. "It doesn't matter, because I—"
His words cut off with a sharp flick to his forehead. Zeva pulled her hand back before he even processed it. "Don't repeat yourself," she said evenly. "Answer the question."
Gurion stared at her in disbelief, caught off guard by both the flick and the firmness behind it. When his eyes shifted to the others, he saw the same thing in every face: they weren't going to let this go. Their silence pressed heavier than words, and with a sigh he dropped his shoulders.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice low, "I'll tell you. But it won't change anything."
"That's for us to decide, not you. Now tell us," Zeva said firmly.
Gurion drew in a deep breath, his shoulders tense before he began speaking. He laid it all out for them—the story of Woodsmen Creek, the fox-kin's ancestral home, the day Avaro Crassus and his people came with demands and threats, and how it ended with him being taken, forced to fight in the tournament because Avaro and his men had long since been banned for previously cheating. Every detail spilled out, his voice carrying the weight of someone reliving it all. By the time he finished, he stared down at the table, refusing to meet their eyes. "There. Now you know why."
The group sat in silence, processing. It was Mae who finally broke it. "That's it?" she asked, tilting her head.
Gurion's head snapped up, his face twisting in shock and anger. "What do you mean that's it?"
Lexy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "No, no, the elf has a point. That's it? That's what's had you so worked up?" Her voice carried genuine confusion.
"I—why are you two acting like this isn't serious!?" Gurion shot back, his annoyance clear at their dismissiveness.
"Gurion, look around you," Quincy said, motioning to the others at the table. "Do you think none of us could help you against… an extortionist?"
That gave him pause. His lips parted, but no words came out as Quincy's words sank in.
"Avaro might be powerful—owns a massive company and all that—but at the end of the day, he's just a thug," Annabel added, her tone casual but sharp. "Plenty of us here could deal with him if you'd just said something."
"You have two knights sitting at this table," Calvinel pointed out, frowning as though he'd just heard the most baffling thing in his life. "And you didn't think to mention someone was threatening you and forcing you to fight against your will?"
Gurion's face flushed red at the sheer obviousness of their words. "I—I didn't think you would help! Wh-why would people like you care about some random village!?"
"Yeah, how about you just, I don't know, stop making assumptions?" Zeva cut in sharply, silencing him.
"Listen," Callum said, surprisingly enough, "there are like four people here whose actual jobs involve upholding the law or catching criminals. So, after the tournament's over, we'll deal with your problem. Don't worry about it."
Gurion blinked, taken aback. "...I-I… yes. Thank you," he muttered, his voice small as it trailed off.
"You should always ask for help when you can't handle things on your own, Gurion," Xain said gently, a smile crossing his face.
For a moment, Gurion went still. Then he snapped his gaze toward Xain, pointing at him with sudden urgency. "You haven't explained what you did in the arena today!" His outburst was little more than a desperate attempt to turn attention away from himself—but it worked.
Everyone's eyes shifted back onto Xain, who let out a quiet sigh. "Okay. I guess I'll try and explain."