[3K+] Onward, march!

"Now this, my friends, is what you call an appetizer," pronounced Monkey proudly as he held up a sheening, sauce-covered barbeque skewer the size of a woman's forearm before sinking it in three bites. The mercenaries joyfully applauded in cheer, but Soran wondered how they had become so sidetracked. They were supposed to head to the Ursula quarters for 'business dinner', yet Monkey insisted he was too hungry to wait politely for an hour, and that surely appetizers were in order.

As it goes, they had ended up back in Fire Avenue, which also had been promptly repopulated since last they left. The mercenaries were paying for Monkey's enormous appetite almost as if they were paying for entertainment; the fuel to an unrelenting fire.

When Soran had felt his hunger grow ever approaching, he thought of asking if they could purchase something for him as well, but somehow he was sure they would deny his request outright.

"One more! One more! One more!" the mercenaries chanted in unison, and Monkey was certainly willing to keep eating, however, it had become apparent that each mercenary had run out of coins to spend. The culinarian of the stall shook his head at the mercenaries scrambling for any spare coins that may have been hidden deep within their pockets, in their shoes, or even yet, on the ground!

"No can do, boys. Even if you coughed up a couple of extra coins, I just can't allow you to purchase more, even though I appreciate it, really. I'm trying to get my name out there, can't have a group of rascals being the only ones in the south to know of me and my cooking. No offense, of course," said the culinarian while dexterously counting the number of coins he had been paid so far before sweeping all of it into a clinking wooden box by his feet.

"What a shame!" said Monkey, wiping his brow off sweat. "Alas, the appetizing has come to an end! What a shame!"

Soran promptly waved at the mercenaries and, with a certain grit in his speech, proceeded to remind them of the reason they had met in the first place.

"When you said that you had gotten orders to make sure we arrived safe and sound, but most importantly, on time, I was surprised, considering the competence of you bunch, or, rather, lack thereof. I was hoping you would prove me wrong, but it seems you've led us in the opposite direction of the quarters. You're doing your job just perfectly."

"Oh, come on, Soran, we were just having some fun," said Vannis about to lightly slap Soran on the shoulder, but hesitated. "Besides, I bet you don't really care to be on time. I mean, you're only going there for the food, right? Or don't tell me you feel all high and noble now that you've been invited to the oh-so grandiose Ursula Hall? Should I refer to you as Sire as well?"

Vannis quickly regretted his words when Soran clicked his tongue.

"Keep your teeth clamped, coward. Your words were always akin to the poisoned tip of an arrow. Good to know the tip is still as blunt, just as it always used to be. Never piercing."

Monkey stepped in between the two smoothly, as if he was simply passing by.

"Enough bad-mouthing, boys. I think it's time we headed towards this so-called hall of consumption."

"Do they really call it that?" muttered one of the mercenaries.

"Onward, march!" ordered Monkey, and all the mercenaries froze up in salutes before marching on behind Monkey. Soran simply rolled his eyes before following their lead. If one was keen of eye one might also have noticed that Monkey was partly under the influence.

On the cobbled path of the main road illuminated by hazy blue light, they trod towards their destination. It was clear that Monkey did not know where to go, so Soran eventually took the role of march commander, a role which he quickly dropped, wherein the march turned to a normal, brisk walk. The wind blew low and slow, with short intervals of intensity, enough to flutter any capes, hair, or loose cloth. An apple laid bruised on the ground as they passed, and one of the mercenaries picked it up and gestured over toward Monkey.

"Still hungry?" he asked in jest.

"Oh, come now, what do you take me for? Just because I eat with great appetite and in large quantities does not also mean that I'll eat anything put in front of me," said Monkey before beckoning at the sky as he spun and proudly proclaimed: "I used to feast in the halls of kings! Sizeable feasts, mind you, meant for the likes of warriors of great merit. I've sat by Angus' side many times, and each time was after a grand victory in battle, I think. By official accounts, I was one of his greatest warriors. By my account, I was his best."

Before the mercenaries could ponder on what Monkey just had proclaimed, Soran piqued up and, thinking of the stories of the great thirteen warriors, he asked.

"Do you remember who those other great warriors you insinuated of were?"

Monkey was eager to answer that question joyfully, but as he began forming his sentence his words rapidly de-escalated to a stop.

"I feel as if I had known them like my own family, yet, I can't remember their names. Not even their faces or voices. Everything has fled from my mind. The proof of their existence seems to tie in with my king, but when I imagine us sitting by the great long table, drinking and conversing, their forms take the shapes of silvery mists. Their voices are muffled and they echo in our great hall as if I'd no need for their presence in my memory, but I can feel that they were irreplaceable. I know it to be so."

His stature slouched as he tried to recall his old comrades, and for a moment only the gusts of wind and stepping of feet were heard, before Monkey perked back up to his normal composure and inquisitively asked, seemingly of random cause.

"Anyway, I've been wondering, those light poles, did the dwarves erect them thirty years ago when they came down from their mountains?"

The mercenaries shrugged before noting that they'd only been stationed in River Valley for a year and that the lights had been there ever since they arrived.

"Six years ago they were erected as a part of the redevelopment plan here in the Valley," answered Soran before continuing. "That's why they only line the main road, as the plan is still in action. When it's done, River Valley is supposed to look more like one of the bigger cities up north, like Gerthod, or even Rama Wisteria."

Even if subtly, a glimmer of hope could be seen in Soran's eyes. He had grown up in this city during a time when he was dirt-poor, like everyone else at that time. Seeing his city grow into something more profound was relieving, to say the least, even if he now once again intended to depart from it.

"Like Rama Wisteria? Keep dreaming, buddy," scoffed Vannis, but upon hearing Soran's clicking noise once again, he quickly retreated his tongue back behind his teeth. Vannis continued with clumsy words. "Well, I mean, Rama Wisteria, beautiful city, but nothing like the ol' Valley, am I right, Soran?"

"I know it isn't going to be like Rama Wisteria, but it doesn't need to be. I just want it to light up during the night," exhaled Soran as he looked up at the now star-speckled sky.

One of the mercenaries awkwardly cleared their throat before speaking up.

"I don't mean to burst your bubble, Soran, but we've heard rumors of the redevelopment plan being, well, delayed."

"There have been 'major economical setbacks'," mocked another mercenary in a silly voice. "Point is, the executives are not happy, that's certain."

"Especially that witch, Jeana," said Vannis as he hugged his own shoulders and shuddered. The other mercenaries shuddered in response like a dominos effect.

Soran shot a surprised glare at the mercenary party.

"What? Delayed? Why? Who's this Jeana?"

"She's a diamond commissioner affiliated with the Jinho's. She's the one responsible for the redevelopment of River Valley. Considering her reputation is on the line, no wonder she's mad," said Vannis while scratching his head. "We don't know why it's delayed. Something about property destruction, I think? But I'm not sure. We're just as much in the dark as you guys are."

"Damn," muttered Soran under his breath.

"Perhaps that's why they invited you, you know, so they can use your expertise and get back on the road of redeveloping."

"I don't know, Vannis. My relationship with the JTF is just about as good as my relationship with you."

"Lukewarm?" asked Vannis hopefully while batting his lashes.

"Certainly. Lukewarm like your blood pooling on the ground," sneered Soran. Vannis seemed to jump out of his skin, but Soran retracted his statement. "Just joking. If I had to choose between sitting next to you or a Jihno snake I'd choose the former."

Vannis barely managed to joyfully exclaim "I knew it!" before Soran scoffed, "Regrettably so".

They kept walking silently at a brisk pace before Soran thought to check his watch. He had been so aloof earlier in all the chaos that he forgot to keep a check on the time. Lo and behold, she was five minutes before the allotted time. With this, he loudly exclaimed that they were going to be late. Following Soran's lead, the whole company took off sprinting.

The Ursula quarters were a part of town that used to be dedicated to witchcraft and old shamanistic traditions. However, those gatherings were wiped out when the religious zealots of Rama Wisteria started having a tighter grip on the outer rim of Tria Existantus. Now it acted as a sort of guest home for any higher authority individuals. It could also be identified as the only 'wealthy' area in River Valley (and it looked the part too, being mostly built with stone brick) even though many authoritative figures that arrive there mock its impoverishment. It is located toward the edge of the valley and therefore of higher elevation compared to the rest of town. You could say that it's of higher elevation figuratively as well.

Running up the winding stairs toward the Ursula quarters, the mercenaries had long ago lost their breaths and were trudging far behind Soran and Monkey, who were still running at the same pace as when they started.

Finally getting to the top, Soran started navigating through the mostly empty quarters. A few people could be seen here and there, but upon seeing Soran and company they would make haste and flee the streets.

Eventually, after passing through a relatively open area with occasional patches of dry grass here and there among the dry land, they reached the so-called 'hall', but as they came closer, from outside it looked more so like a castle than some feeble hall. It wasn't quite as large as a castle, though, but it seemed to have been constructed similarly. Perhaps the most correct terminology to use would have been 'mansion of stone'.

In front of it was built a gloomy courtyard that sort of functioned as a gateway. A tall iron fence that had been meticulously wrought to mimic organic vines lined the courtyard interchangeably with structures of stone and gray brick. In the middle of the courtyard was a large and new-seeming fountain, empty and dry, without flowing water. At the front of the establishment was an iron gate of similar design as the fence, except it reached even taller. Just behind the gate stood two sharply clad butlers that greeted them as the company came closer.

"I apologize good Sirs, but this is a private establishment and we cannot allow your entry."

"We got the guy, you know, the guy!" shouted Vannis from further behind, completely out of breath. He then proceeded to lay down, back first, onto the ground.

"Soran's the name. This is my compatriot."

"Monkey," informed Monkey as he gestured a thumbs up.

The two butlers looked up and down both Soran and Monkey before whispering to each other, then turning back toward the party, opening the gates with the whining of iron and letting them come inside.

"We will accompany you from here," said one of the butlers while the other one tried to apprehend Soran's gear. Soran tried to resist at first, proclaiming that his weapons and tools were a part of his identity, but eventually he buckled and gave up his possessions. The only thing he did not part with was the clinking chains that he kept beneath his cloak, and the butler did not dare take that away from him. Monkey, to the butler's surprise, did not have anything to give but his pants. And the butler did not have the audacity to force the man to forfeit his only garments.

All the mercenaries had joined Vannis in sprawling out on the ground outside by the gate as they collectively caught their breaths. The butlers closed the gate with another awful whine before locking it and proceeding to escort Soran and Monkey, leaving the rest of the group at the entrance.

"Looks like our job is done here, Soran," shouted Vannis through his panting across the gate as he hoisted himself into a seated position. "I know we've had our hard comings and such, and we may not see eye to eye, but perhaps we can put our differences aside for a moment and talk over a drink sometime? Honestly speaking, you know, I do regret what I did back then. I just wanted to let you know."

Soran gazed back at Vannis whose face was drenched in sweat and uncomfortably grimaced. He did not respond with words but simply turned his back towards Vannis and waved his hand, as if to say "some other time perhaps".

Monkey observed their interaction before looking over the courtyard, which was filled with nothing but withered flowers and expired hope.

"Could at least have said something to him. You're as cold as this here courtyard, or should I say 'graveyard'. They could have at the very least tended to their poor flowers, don't you think?" said Monkey nonchalantly.

"Perhaps I acted coldly, but he deserves no better," answered Soran before looking at the dead flora around them. "And we don't really have the liberty to water decorative plants here in the Valley."

"There'll be water in abundance one brilliant day, I'm sure of it, so don't look so down," consoled Monkey as he slapped Soran's back.

They took slow but deliberate steps, keeping the tempo of the butlers, before arriving in front of a large wooden double door under a vestibule of dark stone. The door was treated with dark oil, properly maintained, and barely made any noise when the two butlers swung open each door in perfect sync.

"You may enter. The foyer is just down the hallway. You are a little bit late but our esteemed guests are most likely still socializing at this time. You may join them," said one of the butlers.

"Alright, but where will you store my belongings?" asked Soran, seemingly nervous about separating himself from his apparently identity-defining possessions.

The butler exhaled deeply before answering.

"We will store it in the storage room, and it will be kept safe there. You don't need to be nervous. We will hand it to you after the dinner party is over."

Soran thanked the butlers as they closed the doors behind the two, shutting with a gust of wind and an unexpectedly loud thud. The silence settled itself in the long hallway before them. A desaturated red carpet stretched itself from the very entrance to the far end of the hallway.

"Well, let's not keep waiting, shall we?" said Soran. "While in the Fire Avenue, Vannis made two assumptions about me. Both were wrong. The first was assuming that I don't care to be on time. That is false," continued Soran as he adjusted the chains on his left shoulder. The ticking of his watch pierced the silence of the hallway. "The second was that I would be one to enjoy my time at the Ursula Hall. That was his most dire misassumption. I'm not particularly one to make haste, but as soon as we're done eating, we're getting out of here."

"Let me guess, Jinho snakes?" laughed Monkey.

"Precisely," smirked Soran as he cracked his fists.

"I didn't think it so, but it seems you must really dislike leaving your gear in someone else's hands. Is it because you want to feel like you have absolute control, perhaps?" said Monkey as he gave a little wink.

"It depends to whose hands I leave my gear, sometimes control is needed. And with snakes, you can never be too sure. Though, I am not truly nervous, or at least not to the degree which I may have appeared to be. My real objective was coaxing them into telling us where they would keep our gear, well, my gear, in case we need to leave early," explained Soran.

"Always thinking ahead, aye? Perhaps it's time to relax, considering we're about to finally get some food in our bellies."

"I would, but as mentioned, not around snakes."

"Talking about Jihno snakes, what did they mean with 'perpetrator'?" asked Monkey scratching his head.

"They? Perpetrator?" repeated Soran perplexed, his eyes widening slightly as he turned his head to face Monkey's.

"Those servants whispered something about a perpetrator earlier by the iron gate. I thought you might know what they had meant."

Soran's danger sense was going off—something wasn't right. He knew that his relationship with the JTF wasn't good enough for them to consider his help in any matter except bounty hunting, yet he was invited for dinner, along with his 'compatriot' no less! How did they know he had a compatriot? And why invite both? He pondered as they walked down the echoing, cold hallway, and he began thinking of Gragas, the quartermaster. "They must've got something from him," he thought. Soran reckoned that they perhaps had tortured Gragas into name-dropping any individuals who have broken trade laws and other finicky things relating to legal matters (of which Soran was a multiple offender) so they could 'deal' with them. He backtracked his thought process a little bit as he didn't want to draw any conclusions just yet, but he was confident it had something to do with Gragas.

"Perpetrator, huh," pondered Soran out loud. "Must be me that they're referring to."

"Or perhaps I am the perpetrator," said Monkey.

"Wouldn't surprise me," chuckled Soran.

Coming to the end of the hallway, Soran warned Monkey.

"There is an ulterior motive here. Something untasteful is being planned, I just know it. I'm not quite sure what exactly, however, I simply just ask of you to not do anything rash. They might be holding a business partner of mine hostage, and in that case, we have to be very careful with our actions. I do not wish to lose him, as I know the Jihno's aren't strangers to more 'grim' ways of dealing with their problems."

Monkey reassured Soran that he would keep a low profile. Although, he could not help but think that this entire dinner charade, were it to be of nefarious intent, would have had more to do with him than Soran. Monkey wasn't oblivious to the fact that he had caused some degree of collateral havoc, but be it as it was, he knew that Soran could not have known that at this time, so he said nothing further. At this time, Monkey recalled Soran's wish for River Valley's prosperity and imagined that perhaps his own actions is what had caused the delay. However, Monkey was not a fan of pondering, so he quickly brushed it off and put his mind to the present. All of it was a discussion meant for another time.

There was one last door to appear before them, and also the last door to open: the door that led into the foyer. It was smaller and more humble—rustic, perhaps—and beyond it, they could hear the commotion of festivity. It seems as if they had arrived just in time for some mingling.