Neither Kevin nor Celize responded right away.
The guard impatiently said, "The line is long. Present me your permit and your purpose of entering before you can proceed, or just leave. Don't waste my time."
Celize hesitated for a moment before taking out the permit her fiancé's family gave to her. She wanted to present it to the guard, but Kevin responded faster.
"We're merchants," he said. "Here for business."
Celize shot him a glance, clearly about to correct him.
The guard's eyes narrowed. "Merchants? Then where are your wagons? Your permits?"
Kevin sighed as if inconvenienced by the question. He brought one hand over the other, fingers closing briefly in front of his chest. When he leaned forward again, ten gold coins rested discreetly in his palm. He pressed them lightly against the guard's gauntlet.
"Here's my permit," he said quietly. "Can we go inside now?"
The guard didn't move. His face remained stone, his halberd planted firmly across the path.
Kevin clicked his tongue and produced another ten coins, letting them glimmer just long enough to make the point.
This time, the guard shifted. He stepped aside just enough to open a narrow path through the gate. "Be careful in the town," he muttered.
Kevin nodded once and walked through without looking back.
Away from the gate, Celize stared at Kevin, "You bribed a soldier. You should know you could get in trouble because of that."
Kevin smiled, "Money matters, my dear. We can buy anything with enough coins, even lives."
Celize's explore the town, "Hopefully we can find clues about who ordered the ambush in this town."
Inside Que'tol, life surged around them in a dizzying wave of sound and color. The buildings clustered tightly along wide stone streets—mostly two- and three-story houses with tiled roofs and wooden balconies. Shop signs creaked above doorways.
Adventurers packed the streets—some still dusty from the wilds, others freshly armored, blades gleaming as if just purchased. Merchants shouted prices over one another. Porters dragged carts loaded with monster hides and crystal-lined crates toward warehouses built directly against the inner side of the wall.
Kevin scanned everything with sharp eyes.
"So," he murmured to Celize, "where do we start investigating?"
Celize adjusted her hood and ducked slightly closer to him. "The tavern."
Kevin blinked. "Why a tavern?"
She offered a small, knowing smile. "Because people talk there. When they relax. When they get drunk. When they boast. If there are rumors, they'll pass through a tavern first."
Kevin considered that. "Makes sense."
Not far from the Adventurer's Guild, a towering stone structure lit by massive soul-lamps. They found a large tavern whose wooden sign bore the image of a roaring griffin. Laughter and music spilled through wide open doors.
They stepped inside.
Warmth enveloped them immediately. The tavern was packed, adventurers crowded the long tables, armor stacked in heaps near walls, weapons leaned carefully against chair legs. The air buzzed with noise: clashing mugs, raucous laughter, the low thrum of gossip and argument. A bard plucked at a three-stringed lute near the hearth, singing of hunters and beasts and fortune lost and found.
Kevin and Celize took an empty spot near the back.
Kevin ordered two drinks and a plate of bread and salted meat. As the ale arrived, he began listening—not openly, but with quiet focus, letting surrounding conversations wash past him.
"…he said the guild's raising bounty on Defiled beasts…"
"…no, that was north of Corano, you idiot…"
"…three men lost in the valley last week…"
"…they say something big is stirring near the southern ridge…"
Pieces. Only fragments. Nothing tied directly to Kelya. Nothing about the ambush of Norton's eldest son's fiancée or a false mountain god.
Celize leaned closer to a neighboring table where several adventurers were arguing loudly. She posed a casual question about recent outbreaks in nearby regions. One of them waved her off with a shrug, too drunk to care. Another answered vaguely, offering rumors that contradicted each other within the same sentence.
After nearly an hour of quiet probing, Kevin leaned back with a faint frown.
"Nothing useful," he muttered.
Celize nodded, her brows knit. "Everyone here only talks about bounties and profits. No one cares about villages unless there's money in it."
She raised her glass and took another sip—then another.
Time passed. The tavern grew louder. Kevin noticed Celize's movements becoming slower, less guarded. Her cheeks flushed faintly. When she reached for her drink again, her hand wobbled.
Kevin caught the cup before it tipped. "That's enough."
She blinked up at him. "I'm… I'm fine…"
Her words slurred slightly.
Kevin stood and hoisted her gently onto his back. "You're drunk."
"I am… not—"
She drifted off mid-protest, her head settling against his shoulder.
Kevin paid their tab, handed the waiter one gold coin. The waiter wanted to say it was too much, but the two were gone already.
Kevin slid back into the noise of Que'tol, slipping through the crowd with Celize secure on his back. The night outside felt cooler, the breeze brushing against sweat-damp skin.
They searched for a place to stay.
But Que'tol was packed.
Every inn they approached turned them away. "No rooms." "Full tonight." "Come back tomorrow." The arrival of a massive wave of adventurers had swallowed all vacancy.
Kevin clicked his tongue in frustration as he turned down the last alley near the market district. Lantern light pooled in shallow orange circles along the stone path.
That was when a boy stepped into their path.
He was thin, perhaps eleven or twelve years old, clothes patched and worn. He looked at Kevin, then at Celize, slumped on his back.
"Sir," he said quietly, "are you looking for a room?"
Kevin's eyes sharpened instantly. "Why?"
The boy hesitated, then straightened. "Because I know a place."
Kevin studied him for several seconds, gauging. The boy met his gaze steadily—not boldly, but without fear.
"All the motels are full," the boy added quickly. "A lot of adventurers arrived this afternoon. They say a big battle is coming somewhere. Everyone ran to Que'tol."
Kevin's instincts flared with warning—but the weight of Celize and the late hour pressed against his caution.
"Lead the way," he said at last. "But if this is a trick… don't try it."
The boy nodded quickly. "My name is Warren."
They followed him through narrowing streets until the bright lanterns gave way to dimmer, poorer quarters. The houses grew cramped and crooked, plaster cracked, roofs sagging. Finally, Warren stopped before a small, leaning home tucked into the corner between two taller buildings.
It looked barely livable.
Kevin's steps slowed. He almost turned back.
"I know it doesn't look good," Warren said hurriedly. "But it's safe. It's just my mother and me."
Kevin hesitated only a moment longer before nodding.
The door creaked open at Warren's knock.
Inside, a thin woman wrapped in faded blankets struggled to rise from a narrow cot near the hearth. Her face was pale, drawn with sickness, eyes wide with worry.
"Warren?" she said weakly. "Why are you out so late…?"
Warren rushed to her side and helped her sit on the wooden bench. "Mom, I brought guests. They need to rent the room. So I offer my room for them."
Her gaze lifted to Kevin and Celize, lingering on Celize's unconscious form. "Guests…? But where will you sleep?"
Warren pointed to the old wooden bench by the wall. "I'll sleep here."
Warren frowned deeply. "And what are you doing out of bed? You're sick, Mom. You shouldn't even be standing—"
She tried to rise again, coughing. "I wanted to help.
I want cook something, but… there's nothing left…"
Kevin stepped forward. With one hand still steadying Celize, he waved his free hand once. A massive slab of preserved meat materialized in midair and thudded onto the rough table.
"Cook that," Kevin said calmly. "And take me to the room. I need to put her down."
Both Warren and his mother froze in shock.
Warren's eyes shone as he nodded rapidly and led Kevin into a tiny back room. The space barely fit a single narrow bed. Cracks ran along the walls. The single window was patched with cloth.
But it was enough.
Kevin gently laid Celize onto the bed. He took a blanket from his storage ring and spread it out on the floor beside her.
Warren hovered in the doorway, clearly uneasy. "I'm sorry it's so small…"
"It's enough," Kevin said. "How much is the rent?"
Warren shook his head quickly. "You don't have to pay. That meat will feed us for days—"
Kevin placed five gold coins into Warren's trembling hands. "Buy medicine for your mother."
The boy's breath caught. He bowed deeply, again and again, voice breaking with gratitude.
"Thank you… thank you, sir…"
Kevin only nodded. "Go."
Warren hurried out.
Kevin finally sat beside Celize. He leaned forward to take off her boots and hood. For a long moment, he watched her breathe, slow and even. Though she wore men's clothes, the outline of her figure was impossible to hide.
Kevin, being drunk, lust started erupting from within his body. He leaned and lowered his head, about to kiss Celize, but stopped only a few inches away from her face. He stared at her lips, he wanted to kiss her so bad. It took him long time staring Celize face until gave up the idea and stood up.
He sighed, "I don't think a kiss is worth for the trouble after. I guess I need to wait longer."
He laid in his blanket and closed his eyes, trying to bury his lust deep inside him.