A faint mist hung over the city of Evan, wrapping it in an eerie silence. The sky's gloom had descended upon the earth, casting everything in shades of gray. Inside the Black Gold Tavern, the usual crowd drank and laughed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Yet, for the Golden Guild—known among themselves as the Golden Brotherhood—it was the eve of an important night.
Serot, the leader of the Brotherhood and the man who had once saved the lives of all sixteen members, had announced that he would make an important declaration once everyone had left.
Rylen, the youngest of the Brotherhood, sat alone on the stairs, his shyness keeping him apart from the others. Aftul and his beloved wife Avania were busy preparing food. Burrei, once again, secretly flirted with male customers while serving, hiding it from her pitiful husband Fatnir. Palwar washed dishes while chatting with Sadagat, the drunken dwarf, who sipped his beer nearby. Straga, the Brotherhood's brute strength, stood guard at Serot's door. Murple the Seer rested in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Firan, Buyarn, Tarnash the Gray Elf, Mervilion the Monk, and Kromnir the Dwarf laughed and drank together at a table.
Firan took four gulps from his freshly served frothy beer, wiped the droplets from his yellow beard, let out a loud belch, and turned to Tarnash.
"Hey Tarnash, what happened to you? You look pale. Don't take it the wrong way, just curious."
Tarnash had heard this question from Firan countless times before and chose not to answer. He was never much of a talker—only speaking when necessary, and even then, barely.
Kromnir cut in."Listen here, yellow beard. You've had too much. There's an important matter tonight, remember?"
"Are you challenging me, dwarf?" Firan shot back with a grin.
"Then come on!" Kromnir replied.
The two quickly decided on a drinking contest.
"Enough! Brothers… any other day, fine—but today, be careful. Serot has important news after months. At least stay sober tonight." Mervilion interrupted sternly.
"Ah, to hell with it… fine." Kromnir muttered.
At that exact moment, Firan fell off his chair and passed out.
As the chaos unfolded,
Rylen slipped out toward the garden, desperate to get away from the crowd. The cellar below had always been his refuge whenever he needed to be alone. He pushed the door open and grabbed onto the ladder, beginning his descent.
As he climbed down, a sound caught his attention.
A woman's voice.
He froze for a second, confused, then continued downward, his grip tightening on the wooden rungs. The further he descended, the clearer it became—the sound was definitely coming from below.
Finally, he reached the bottom of the ladder.
And just as he was about to let go—
He saw it.
Befar.
Serot's right hand. One of his most trusted men.
On top of a woman.
Both of them completely naked.
Befar's long black hair covered the woman's face, but Rylen didn't need to see much more to understand who she was.
Lady Maria.
Serot's wife.
For a sixteen-year-old boy, this was too much. Way too fucking much. And for Rylen—who had lived his whole life drowning in fear and shame—it hit even harder.
His breath caught in his throat.
He backed away silently, step by step, climbing up the ladder as fast as he could without making a sound.
Somehow, they didn't notice him.
By the time he reached the top, he was shaking, drenched in sweat, his mind completely fucked.
He didn't know what to do.
Not a single fucking idea.
The noise of the tavern felt distant now, like it belonged to another world entirely.
Only one person noticed something was wrong.
Mervilion.
"Hey, boy. What the hell happened? Come here."
Rylen didn't respond.
He just stood there, frozen.
Then suddenly, a memory flashed before his eyes—his grandfather. A proud northern warrior who had spent years telling him how to stand tall, how to be brave.
"I have to be brave… I have to be brave…" Rylen whispered under his breath.
"My grandfather would want this… he would…"
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Rylen's heart nearly stopped.
It was Mervilion.
"Come with me," the monk said, pulling him inside.
"I saw them! I fucking saw them! My lady and—him! That bastard… I saw them!"
"Your lady and what? What did you see, Rylen?"
"Shut up! Don't ask me questions!"
"Enough, Rylen. Stop acting like a child. What did you see?"
"I—I saw them… my lady and B-Befar… He was on top of her, doing things I don't even understand… I saw it, Mervilion. We have to tell Serot."
At first, Mervilion didn't want to believe it.
"What kind of bullshit are you talking about? Maria said she was going to the baths."
"N-no! That's a lie! She lied! Go see it yourself!"
"Stay here."
Mervilion turned and walked straight toward Serot's room.
Straga stood at the door, towering in his black armor, silent and intimidating.
"There's something important, Straga. Move."
Straga stepped aside without a word.
Inside, Serot sat quietly, stroking his dark beard, as if preparing for something.
"What is it, Mervilion?"
"This is serious. I found Rylen outside—terrified, sweating like hell. He told me he saw Befar… with Maria."
Serot's expression hardened.
"How did he say he saw them?"
"Together."
A long silence filled the room.
"Do you have any reason to believe that boy?"
"He may be a scared little shit, but he's not a liar. Not once since we found him half-dead in that forest with Kromnir. This is serious, Serot."
"…Why the fuck would Befar do something like that to me?"
"That's not for me to answer."
Serot exhaled slowly.
"Make sure every customer is served. Then get them the hell out."
Mervilion nodded and left.
As he passed Rylen, he muttered quietly:
"You better not be wrong, boy…"
Once Mervilion made sure every last customer was out of the tavern, he went straight back to Serot.
"They're gone."
Serot stood up slowly, the weight of something dark settling over the room.
The rest of the Brotherhood had already started to gather, sensing that something was very fucking wrong.
Rylen stood off to the side, pale as death.
Serot's eyes locked onto him.
"Where?"
Rylen swallowed hard."Th-the cellar… the garden cellar… down the ladder…"
"What the hell is going on, Serot?" Kromnir couldn't hold himself back any longer.
"We're about to find out…" Aftul muttered under his breath.
Serot didn't waste another second.
"Mervilion. Kromnir. Buyarn. Go down there and bring those two here."
Mervilion gave a short nod and gestured for the others to follow.
Kromnir frowned."The fuck do you mean 'those two'?"
Mervilion smirked grimly."Looks like Befar decided to star in a little play… 'Fucking Maria.'"
Kromnir let out a low whistle."Well… shit."
They moved toward the garden.
Mervilion grabbed the hatch and pulled it open, then stepped onto the ladder, descending first.
One rung at a time.
When his boots finally hit the ground, he looked up—
Befar and Maria were already dressed.
That made it worse.
"Mervilion? The hell are you doing here?" Befar asked, his voice sharp.
Mervilion didn't answer.
He just stared at him with pure disappointment.
Behind him, Buyarn climbed down the ladder, followed by Kromnir.
Befar's eyes narrowed.
"What the fuck are you all doing down here?"
Kromnir crossed his arms."You're in deep shit, Befar."
"I asked you a question!" Befar snapped, his hand instinctively moving toward his sword—Ardanel.
That was all Mervilion needed to see.
He lunged forward instantly, grabbing Befar's arm before he could draw it.
Kromnir and Buyarn jumped in without hesitation.
"Don't even fucking try it!" Kromnir growled.
Befar struggled, but the three of them overpowered him and forced him toward the ladder.
"Move!" Buyarn barked.
They dragged him up, step by step, hauling him out of the cellar.
Mervilion turned his head toward Maria.
"Your turn, my lady. Move."
Maria didn't argue.
She followed.
They were shoved into the tavern.
Everyone was watching now.
No laughter. No noise.
Just silence.
Heavy. Suffocating silence.
Serot stepped forward slowly.
His eyes burned with something far worse than anger.
"Now," he said, his voice low but deadly,"someone start fucking talking."
Maria rushed forward.
"My love—my dear—I don't understand what's happening—"
"Cut the bullshit, Maria!" Serot roared.
The entire room flinched.
"Tell me what the fuck is going on!"
Befar stepped in quickly.
"Serot, listen to me. This isn't what it looks like. You're being dragged into something—this is a setup—"
Serot didn't even let him finish.
His gaze shifted.
Slowly.
To Straga.
And then—
To the massive war axe in his hands.
Without a word, Serot reached out and took it.
Everything seemed to slow down.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Maria turned—
"Serot, wai—"
Too late.
The axe came down.
Brutal.
Clean.
Final.
Like chopping fucking wood.
Her head tore free from her body in a spray of blood.
It hit the ground with a sickening thud.
For a second—
No one reacted.
No one even understood what had just happened.
Then the blood started spreading across the floor.
Thick. Dark.
Real.
Rylen's legs gave out beneath him.
His whole body trembled violently, his stomach twisting as guilt and horror crushed him from the inside.
Murple was the only one who moved.
He grabbed the boy by the arm.
"Come on. Not for you to see."
He dragged Rylen outside into the cold air of the garden.
Inside, Serot stood there, chest rising and falling slowly, Maria's blood still dripping from the blade.
Then he turned his eyes toward Befar.
Cold.
Empty.
"Take your shit," he said quietly."And get the fuck out of here."
Befar didn't move.
"If I ever see your face again…"
Serot stepped closer.
"…you'll wish you ended up worse than that whore."
Silence.
Heavy as death.
Befar clenched his jaw, grabbed Ardanel, and turned without another word.
No goodbye.
No defense.
He just walked out.
Serot turned back to the room.
"You all just gonna stand there like idiots?" he snapped.
"Clean this shit up."
No one argued.
No one dared.
"And be ready." no one moved, Serot turned back to the brotherhood,
"You all just gonna stand there like idiots? CLEAN THIS SHIT UP!" after that, they got work.