They went to a house further out on the outskirts, a house the three of them had rented, where they lived together. Each one had a room. In the privacy of their main room, Esther healed them all, although she drank some mana potions beforehand. Then she healed herself a little, with great care because of the risks Lyra had warned her about. After finishing, they were tired but Roxy, with an energy that seemed inexhaustible, told them: "Well, boys! Let's celebrate!".
Claudio crossed his arms, his expression one of an exhaustion that seemed to weigh tons. "I don't want to go. I'm tired. The only place I want to go is my bed." Roxy laughed, giving him a little pat on the chest with the back of her hand. "Oh, don't play the tough guy. You're going because you owe me a bet, sir." Claudio sighed, a sound of deep resignation. "Fine. I'll go for the damn bet, but only for a little while." To everyone's surprise, Eric, who looked exhausted, didn't argue. "Well, I am tired, but I don't see anything wrong with going to celebrate for a while." He turned to Esther, his eyes bright. "Would you like to come, Esther?" Thanks to the drug running through her veins, Esther felt much better, so she accepted with a smile.
They went to a nearby inn that, at night, filled with music and young people of their age to dance and drink. As they entered, the sound enveloped them: a fast, energetic melody, played by a violin and a flute that intertwined over the rhythmic beat of a drum. It was ancient, country music that invited you to move your feet. As soon as they entered, Esther noticed how many men devoured her with their eyes, but being accompanied by the group, no one dared to say anything. Roxy received no fewer looks, whose firm and striking rear did not go unnoticed even in the crowd. As soon as they sat at a large table, the four of them on the same side, Roxy shouted over the music: "Four beers!". The waiter brought them and they began to drink. Esther wasn't used to alcohol, and she was still under the effects of the drug and the sedative, so she didn't know what the whole mix would result in. "You have to admit you're good!" Roxy told Esther, giving her a nudge. "With that fire, we almost didn't need these two muscle bags!". Claudio nodded, his serious tone. "I want to do more jobs with you. You're a valuable asset." Roxy laughed. "I'll have to improve or you'll take my place as the group's mage!". Esther smiled, but shook her head. "I don't think so. I only learn superficial things about magic because I didn't have a real education. You guys know how to read books and understand theories... I just do what I can and improvise." "That's better!" Roxy proclaimed. "Books are boring! Fire is fun!". The conversation continued like that, lively and noisy, until Eric stood up and extended his hand to Esther. "Shall we dance?". She hesitated, her heart beating a little faster. "I don't know... I don't know how to dance like that." "It's easy. I'll guide you," he said, smiling. She accepted.
On the dance floor, Eric was respectful, moving with the music and guiding her gently. Soon, she was laughing, very happy, feeling free for the first time in a long time. At one point, to rest, the music changed to something slower, more atmospheric. Some left the dance floor, but others took the opportunity to get closer to their partners. Eric leaned in, the scent of sweat and cheap beer clinging to him like a second skin, his proximity overwhelming the space between them. The tavern's dim light caught the determined glint in his eyes, a stark contrast to the weary lines etched around them from a day of battle. "I like you a lot, Esther," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her more than the drum's distant beat, each word carefully chosen yet brimming with a raw sincerity that cut through the tavern's noise. His gaze flickered down to her lips and back up, a silent question hanging in the air, thick with unspoken desire. "And I'd like to kiss you." The world seemed to narrow to the space they occupied, the chatter of the crowd and the clinking of tankards fading into a distant hum. Esther, caught off guard, felt a flush creep up her neck. Her mind, already swimming from the potent cocktail of the drug still lingering in her veins and the bitter, unfamiliar taste of beer, offered no resistance. She could only manage a breathless "oh" before a giggle, light and airy, escaped her, a sound she barely recognized as her own. She nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible movement, and found herself rising onto the balls of her feet, the worn leather of her boots scraping softly against the tavern's grimy floorboards as she bridged the height difference. Her hands, trembling slightly, found purchase on the solid warmth of his shoulders, the rough fabric of his tunic a grounding sensation. Eric's thumb gently traced the curve of her jawline, a gesture both tender and possessive, before his lips met hers.
It was not the chaste peck she might have expected from a friendly gesture; it was a deep, searching kiss, wet and uninhibited, his tongue probing with an insistence that spoke of days of suppressed longing. The air around them crackled, a bubble of intimacy in the midst of the tavern's boisterous energy, and for a moment, they were the only two people in the room, oblivious to the glances and the knowing smiles of the other dancers swaying around them in the dim, hazy light. From the table, Roxy was making signs to Claudio while laughing. Claudio brought a hand to his face. "That's my cue to leave," he told Roxy, leaving enough money on the table for what he drank and what he would probably continue to drink. "See you. Don't drink too much." He said goodbye and left. Roxy didn't stop him because she knew he wouldn't change his mind. While Eric's hand caressed Esther's back as he kissed her and their tongues savored each other, a primal current surged between them, the heat of the moment amplifying every sensation. The gentleman, noticing her so receptive, slowly lowered his hand down her back, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine through the thin fabric of her shirt. He hesitated for a fraction of a second at her waist, expecting some refusal, some sign of resistance that never came. But she let it go down, arching slightly into his touch, a silent invitation that sent a jolt through his entire body. He could finally caress her enormous rear that he had been looking at so much, his palm molding to the generous, firm curve. The soft fabric of her short skirt offered little barrier, and he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through it. Like a gentleman, Eric was concerned about the shortness of her skirt, careful not to lift it as he felt her body over the clothes with his hand. His touch remained respectful, even as his fingers explored the contours of her buttocks, the fullness of her hips a stark contrast to her slender waist. Esther, lost in the intensity of the kiss, felt a strange mix of vulnerability and empowerment as his hand roamed, the drug still coursing through her veins dulling her inhibitions while heightening her senses to the point where every caress felt like a spark against her skin. The tavern's music faded into a distant thrum, the world narrowing to the space they occupied, the air thick with unspoken desire and the heady scent of sweat and cheap beer clinging to them both.
The kisses between the two continued, a dizzying dance of tongue and breath that erased the noisy tavern around them into a blur of muffled sounds and distant lights. Esther, feeling a delicious tremor course through her entire body, sought to lean against his solid frame, her soft curves molding against the hard planes of his chest. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring herself to this sudden, overwhelming reality. Eric's two hands, bold and possessive, took her by the ass, pulling her flush against him. He caressed the generous curve through the thin fabric of her skirt, his fingers tracing the firm shape, then kneading it with an appreciative pressure that made her gasp against his mouth. This intimate exploration, happening in front of everyone—the grinning mercenaries, the disapproving matrons, the curious onlookers—only fueled the fire between them, a public declaration of a private hunger that neither could deny. That image made not only the two of them and those watching them heat up, but also Roxy, who raised a hand and shouted: "Hey! Three more beers over here!". The music stopped and changed again to something more lively, and the two separated. Feeling both heated, they went back to the table and noticed both that Claudio had left and that they had more beer and Roxy had been watching them. Esther was completely red with shame and, luckily, Eric stood between the two. Roxy, in a not-so-subtle way, leaned towards them. Roxy leaned forward, her elbows planted on the sticky table, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischievous delight as she took in their flushed faces and disheveled appearances. "So, are you a couple now?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful accusation, the words cutting through the tavern's din like a well-aimed dart.
"No," Esther said quickly, the denial tumbling from her lips before she could properly form the thought. The word felt hollow even to her own ears, a fragile shield against the onslaught of sensations still coursing through her body. But before she could elaborate or retreat into the safety of ambiguity, Eric acted with decisive certainty. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer against his solid frame, and he claimed her mouth in another kiss—deeper this time, more possessive. Esther's resistance melted like wax in a flame. Her fingers, trembling slightly, rose to caress his cheek, her thumb stroking the rough stubble that had emerged there since evening. The kiss lasted only two seconds, yet it left her breathless, her lungs burning with a need that had little to do with lack of air and everything to do with the sudden, overwhelming intensity of her desires.
"Well, we have to get going," said Esther, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally managed to pull away slightly, trying to catch her breath and regain some semblance of composure. The words were more for herself than anyone else—a feeble attempt to regain control of a situation that had spiraled far beyond her expectations.
Eric laughed, a warm, rich sound that vibrated through his chest and into hers. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his amusement clear as he watched her flustered attempt to redirect the conversation.
"You don't seem very decided," Roxy intervened, finishing her second beer with a swift tilt of her head. She set the empty tankard down on the wooden table with a decisive thud, her gaze shifting between them with undisguised curiosity. Her fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on the table's surface as she awaited their response, clearly enjoying the spectacle of their budding romance. "I'll let you order more beer while you decide. I'm going to dance." She got up, still with balance but clearly drunk, and went to dance in an animated way. As she got up alone, a not-so-tall, handsome, blonde-haired man approached her.
"Shall we dance?" he asked her with a smile that crinkled at the corners of his bright blue eyes. His voice carried over the din of the tavern, a warm invitation amidst the chaotic energy of the crowded floor. Roxy accepted with a smirk playing on her lips, her emerald eyes gleaming with challenge. "I hope you can keep up with my rhythm," she replied, her tone a playful warning that promised either a night of exhilarating movement or a lesson in humility for her new partner. The music had shifted to a jaunty, fast-paced tune with intricate fiddle melodies and a thumping drumbeat that seemed to pulse through the wooden floorboards. As they joined the swirling mass of dancers, Roxy moved with a fluid grace that defied the tavern's cramped quarters. Her fiery red hair bounced with each quick step, and her freckles seemed to dance across her face as she laughed. He kept pace remarkably well, his blonde hair catching the dim torchlight as he matched her nimble footwork step for step. During a particularly energetic turn, his hand brushed against the curve of her rear, lingering just a moment longer than accidental. Instead of pulling away, Roxy allowed the contact, even arching slightly into his touch. She seemed impressed not by his boldness, but by his skill on the dance floor – a rare quality in a place where most men lumbered through the simpler tavern dances. As the tempo quickened, their bodies moved in closer proximity, his hips occasionally rubbing against her rear as they navigated the crowded space.
Each touch was deliberate yet seamlessly integrated into their dance, a secret conversation happening in plain sight. Roxy's laughter grew more genuine, a rare sound of pure enjoyment that cut through the tavern's noise. She appreciated that he matched her energy without trying to dominate the dance, their movements becoming a harmonious dialogue rather than a contest of wills. For once, she wasn't the most explosive presence in the room, and the novelty was intoxicating. Meanwhile, Eric's arm tightened around Esther's waist at the table, his thumb tracing circles on the thin fabric of her shirt as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. This kiss was different from the first—deeper, more insistent, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down her spine. Esther responded eagerly, her body softening against his as she yielded to the overwhelming sensations. A delicious warmth spread through her, pooling low in her belly, and she was keenly aware of the dampness blooming between her thighs, a testament to the desire coursing through her veins. His hand, bold and confident, slipped beneath her short skirt, the rough calluses on his fingers sending sparks of electricity through her as they caressed the generous curve of her rear. The intimate exploration, happening in the semi-privacy of their table yet exposed to the tavern's patrons, made her heart race with a mixture of shame and exhilaration. She could feel his hard length pressing against her through their clothes, an undeniable proof of his desire that only fueled her own. Esther found herself wanting more, craving the feel of his hands on her bare skin, the weight of his body pressing her—thoughts that made her cheeks flush even as she deepened the kiss, her tongue dueling with his in a rhythm as old as time. For a moment, she lost herself completely in the sensations, her worries and fears fading into the background as she focused solely on the man holding her, touching her, wanting her. At one point, she pulled back slightly, her lips swollen and glistening, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Eric... I have to confess something to you," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. "I'm a virgin and I have very little experience... I hope I don't disappoint you." Her gaze dropped to his chest, unable to meet his eyes as she braced herself for his reaction.
She had seen the way men looked at her, had heard the crude comments and assumptions about her based on her curvy figure and revealing clothing, and she feared that this confession would shatter the fragile connection they had built. He was completely surprised by the statement, his eyes widening slightly as he processed her words. He didn't say it out loud, considering himself too much of a gentleman to make such an observation, but it had been obvious to him—with the way she carried herself, the confidence in her movements, and especially how passionately she kissed—that she was an experienced girl. Even so, he gently tilted her chin up, his fingers caressing her cheek as he smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face. With a tender strength that made her heart ache, he sat her on his lap, the position both intimate and comforting, leaving one hand resting possessively on her rear while the other came to rest on her thigh. "It's okay," he said softly, his voice low and reassuring as he looked into her eyes with a warmth that chased away her fears. "What I told you is true, I like you a lot, I wasn't thinking of this as a one-night thing. We have time to get to know each other and see how things can be, right?" His thumb stroked her thigh, a gentle, rhythmic motion that calmed her racing heart and made her feel safe in a way she hadn't felt in years. She nodded, giving him a kiss on the lips and smiling, passing her arms around his neck. "You're beautiful," he said. "You're too good with words," she replied. Inside, she thought that he hadn't told her yet that she was the Chosen One, but she didn't see herself telling him either, it was probably one of the best nights of her life. "I know I have a reputation as a womanizer," continued Eric, looking her in the eyes. "But if you give me a chance, I promise to behave well with you and respect you." She told him: "I'm not telling you yet that I'll be your girlfriend, but I'll give you a chance." And she took a slow sip of her beer, the bitter liquid coating her tongue before she leaned in, capturing Eric's lips with hers in a kiss that tasted of hops and desire. Her mouth opened slightly, letting a small amount of the amber liquid pass between their lips as they explored each other's mouths with an intensity that made the tavern's noise fade into a distant hum. Esther pressed her full breasts against his chest, the thin fabric of her shirt doing little to conceal the hard peaks of her nipples that brushed against his tunic with each shallow breath she took. Eric's hand, warm and calloused from years of wielding swords, slid further up her skirt, his fingers tracing the generous curve of her rear with an appreciative hum. Taking advantage of the tavern's shadows and the distraction of the dancing crowd, he squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh, marveling at its firmness and volume without quite daring to venture beneath the thin fabric of her underwear—a clear self-imposed boundary that both frustrated and intrigued him.
On the dance floor, Roxy had just finished an especially energetic twirl with Keith, the blonde man whose name she'd learned between breaths and laughter. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled her close, one hand coming to rest possessively on the small of her back while the other boldly grabbed a handful of her spectacular rear. Roxy reciprocated for a heartbeat, her body arching into his touch as their eyes locked in a silent challenge, but then she pushed him away with a motion that was equal parts gentle and abrupt—a clear signal that while she'd enjoyed the dance and the attention, this was as far as it would go. The young man was not offended; on the contrary, he found it funny how she played hard to get. "Come with me," he told her. Roxy told him loudly, over the music: "I'm with my friends. But maybe later" she gave him hope because she also liked the idea. The boy smiled and went to dance with his friends and she returned to the table. She found them separating, quite flushed and Esther a bit more drunk. Eric was happy and radiant, but exhausted. He told the two: "I have to go, I'm already exhausted, I'm going to sleep." He asked Esther: "Where are you staying so I can visit you?".
Esther whispered the name of the inn to him, the words feeling clumsy and thick on her tongue as his thumb traced the curve of her jaw. "The Safe Navigator," she managed, her voice barely audible over the tavern's din. With a final, lingering kiss that tasted of honeyed mead and shared secrets, he pulled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. His calloused fingers lingered on her cheek for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared into the sea of bodies. They shared one last look across the crowded space, a silent promise passing between them like a current, their smiles genuine and unguarded in a world where such things were rare currency. Then, as his broad shoulders vanished through the tavern door, the space between Esther and Roxy suddenly felt vast and exposed. The noise of the tavern—boisterous laughter, the scrape of wooden chairs, the distant thrum of a fiddle—faded into a dull roar, replaced by the sound of Esther's own blood rushing in her ears. Roxy's emerald eyes, bright with the glint of alcohol and a mischief that bordered on predatory, scanned Esther's face with unhurried thoroughness. Her gaze lingered on Esther's flushed cheeks and the slight swell of her lips, a wide, knowing grin spreading across her freckled features as she shifted her weight, one hand coming to rest on the curve of her hip."Well, well," she drawled, leaning forward conspiratorially, her elbows resting on the sticky table. "Looks like our little Esther isn't so innocent after all." Her teasing tone was light, but there was a genuine curiosity in her gaze as she awaited Esther's response, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to witness her friend in such a state. Esther, still dazed from the kiss and the lingering effects of the alcohol and drugs, could only manage a weak, breathless laugh, her fingers unconsciously touching her lips as if to memorize the feeling of Eric's mouth on hers.