The city of Selam stretched out before them, calm and bright after days of dusty roads. Lakes and ponds reflected the midday sun, and streets were alive with merchants, laughter, and music. Children ran between carts, and the smell of fresh bread mingled with the scent of flowers from small gardens lining the streets, music and wine in the air.
Laxyie nudged the cart. "We've arrived," he said quietly.
Bol smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude on his face. "Thank you, Laxyie. You've done well. Here… for your work," he said, handing him 345 Lengers.
"Just hand me the Lengers keep your thanks. Take Tyke with you if you want," Laxyie replied.
Bol chuckled. "We'll provide him a room—"
"I said take him with you," Laxyie interrupted firmly.
Tyke's eyes widened. "I-I'm not leaving!" he protested.
Bol laughed and shook his head. "Very well. You've got a stubborn one here, Laxyie."
Laxyie sighed. "Just be responsible of him". Bol said thanked him again, and they parted ways.
As they walked, Laxyie glanced at Tyke. "Don't you have parents too?"
The boy's face darkened slightly. "No… I'm an orphan. I work cleaning jobs around town."
Laxyie raised an eyebrow. "And… how did you notice my moves back there, the other day at the market? I noticed you"
Tyke shrugged. "I don't know how… I just… can see things that move very fast."
"I see," Laxyie said, nodding once. "Get your things. Let's book us a room at an inn. We rest tonight, tomorrow we figure out what's next."
Night fell over Selam, painting the streets golden under lantern light. Tyke slept soundly in the small inn room Laxyie had booked, and Laxyie slipped out into the town, heading to the local tavern in search of work. The warm scent of cooked fish and ale filled the air as he took a seat and ordered a meal.
As he waited, his eyes noticed a woman at the bar, swaying drunkenly. She passed out entirely, her head resting on the counter. Laxyie didn't pay her much attention, focusing on his food.
That calm was shattered when a group of three clearly drunk warriors approached.
"Where're you from, boy?" one slurred, stepping too close.
"Nursa," Laxyie said simply.
The three laughed, loud and mocking. "Ohh… the city of thieves!" one said, his tone full of sneer.
Laxyie didn't flinch. He didn't respond.
Their laughter grew sharper. "Don't ignore us, little thief!" another shouted, brandishing a sword.
"I don't want a fight. I'm hungry," Laxyie said calmly, standing and brushing off his coat. "I'll find another place to eat."
The drunk men's anger boiled over. Swords unsheathed, blades swinging toward him with sloppy strength.
Before Laxyie could even dodge, the woman from the bar suddenly sprang to her feet. In one swift, fluid motion, she grabbed the nearest drunk and smashed his head onto the floor. The other two froze, horrified, as she repeated the motion with brutal efficiency.
The tavern went silent.
"Who the hell is this woman".? Laxyie asked himself