James said nothing and kept shoving food into his mouth.
"This motherf*cker…" the voice growled. The large man pushed away from his chair and lumbered toward him, his towering frame blotting out the meager light that had illuminated James's meal.
"Can you please move away? You're obstructing the light. I'm trying to eat," James said flatly, eyes never leaving his bowl.
"What did you say?" The man's face reddened. "You don't know who you're dealing with. You should've accepted Nathan's grace when you had the chance."
"Hu… grace, you say? Or maybe you just wanted to shave your bill off me," James replied with a sigh.
The inn had gone silent. Even the band froze mid-note, and now every eye in the room was fixed on James and the brute.
"Hahahaha… so you knew," the man barked, a grin stretching wide across his face, revealing his crooked yellow teeth. "If you know what's good for you, you'll hand over every coin you've got and leave right now." His thick muscles flexed as though to punctuate the threat.
"Ha… why do you people always have to be so simple-minded?" James muttered, stabbing at his food with his spoon. "I can't even enjoy a warm meal."
Bang!
The brute slapped the plate clean out of James's hands. It clattered across the floor, stew spilling in every direction.
Gasps rippled through the room.
James rose slowly from his chair, his expression unreadable. "Now why would you do that?" he said softly. "That was a perfectly good meal."
James stepped forward swiftly.
The sudden movement startled the brute, making him stumble back a few paces.
Ignoring him, James turned toward the corner where his plate had landed. He knelt, retrieving it from the dirt-streaked floor, brushing off what little stew clung to it.
"You bastard!" The man roared. He charged, fist cocked, ready to smash the back of James's head.
But James moved just as swiftly, turning as though he had eyes in the back of his skull. His hand shot up and caught the fist mid-swing.
"What—?!" The brute gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.
James lifted the fingers of his free hand and traced a slow, deliberate motion downward."Kneel," he murmured.
The brute collapsed to his knees instantly, confusion etched across his face.
"Regard! What the f*ck are you doing?!" Nathan's voice boomed from behind, cutting through the stunned silence of the room.
"I… I can't move," Regard stammered, his entire body trembling.
"It's truly all gone," James murmured, turning his plate over in his hands, inspecting it as though nothing else mattered.
A roar split the room. Nathan came charging like a beast unchained, a massive axe raised high above his head. The silver edge caught the dim light as he barreled across the floor, fury etched into every stride.
"Why do you have to always resort to violence?" James sighed, turning lazily to face him. He flicked his finger, voice low but resonant, like a command informing the world what to do.
"Prostrate yourself."
The words boomed like an echo. Nathan's grip faltered, the axe slipping from his hands. Its great blade slammed into the floor, embedding itself upright. Nathan's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto all fours, forehead pressed against the ground before James.
James dragged a chair closer, sat down casually, and regarded the two men bowing before him as though it were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
A wave of gasps and chatter rippled through the room, awe and fear mixing in equal measure.
"Now," James said, his voice carrying through the silence like a blade's edge, "what to do with you?"
A whimper broke from one of the men.
"You know," James drawled, his tone dripping with mockery, "it's rather rude to attack a defenseless man. Look at that weapon—you might actually hurt someone."
His eyes flicked to the axe embedded in the floor. "What if I used it on you?" He rose from his chair and began walking toward it.
"Stop it, James!" A voice rang out, sharp and commanding. From the kitchen strode Ember, her orange hair bouncing with each furious step, her hand planted firmly on her hip. Her green eyes blazed like emerald fire.
"Can't you see you're causing a commotion? You're scaring the customers!"
James turned to her, unfazed. "I didn't start it."
"I don't want to hear it," she snapped.
"Release them. And get them out."
"But… my food," James muttered, sounding almost sulky.
Ember's glare sharpened, and James flinched under it. "Okay… fine. Leave."
The bindings vanished, and the two men staggered to their feet, their eyes still burning with anger, though their bodies trembled too much to act on it.
"You never come back!" Ember barked, pointing to the door.
The men lowered their heads and slunk out into the night.
"You tell them, Ember!" someone cheered from the crowd.
"Woooo!" The inn erupted in applause and laughter, the tension breaking into a wave of celebration in her name.
James turned toward the door, his steps steady, his expression unreadable.
"Don't go," Ember called after him, her tone shifting—no longer sharp, but soft, almost pleading. "I'll make you another meal."
He gave no answer, his hand brushing against the doorframe as if ready to leave.
"Please!" Her voice cracked, fragile now, stripped of the fire she had moments before.
James halted. Silence hung in the room before he slowly retraced his steps and sank back into his chair.
"You can't keep doing this," Ember whispered as she wiped down his table, her movements gentle, almost nervous. "Don't be angry. But… you've seen it yourself. The lords are hunting mages. If you keep drawing attention, you'll only make yourself a target."
Before long, a fresh bowl of stew and a hunk of bread arrived in front of him.
James exhaled softly. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice warmer now, almost hesitant.
He didn't meet her gaze—couldn't. Perhaps out of shame, or the quiet realization that, in that moment, he had acted like a child.
The night slipped by in a haze of warmth. James lingered at his table, quietly finishing his meal, the soft hum of music and bursts of laughter filling the inn. For a time, it almost felt… normal.
Ember flitted in and out of the main room, balancing trays, her voice rising above the chatter as she greeted patrons with her usual spark.
Then—
"Ahhh!" A scream tore through the night air, sharp enough to freeze every laugh mid-breath.
The inn's door burst open. The rat-faced owner stumbled inside, his eyes wide, his chest heaving.
"James!" he gasped. "Help—help! Those brutes… they've taken Ember! They said—" he choked, his voice cracking, "they said meet them at the cliffs of Marigure… or they'll kill her!"