Chapter 2.1

Father, Brother… I don’t think I could have at all expected to come across what I did when I arrived here… even despite the stories you all told me.

Syr’s thoughts as she witnessed Soren be so abruptly cut off by the sudden impact of a chair was something along those lines. As she watched him sail backwards through the door again, her head snapped around when she heard the roars of sudden cheers within the Hall.

The space itself was quite cozy to the Alf’s observations. Warm lighting provided by gently flickering magic flames and electrical lights above, natural browns and greens mixed with amber cloth making up the interior with brass metalworking to decorate the pillars and other fixtures of the central hall. Perhaps to be expected one of the walls had the mounted trophies of different magical beasts the various members of the Hall had no doubt slain across its existence. It all felt quite nice.

Aside from, perhaps, the fact the central space of the hall was currently occupied by a thick ring of huddled together individuals, all hollering and whopping as the brief flickers of two others within the ring. Suddenly, the thrown chair made sense.

It didn’t help that someone was on top of a table slamming the strings of a guitar almost wildly just to crank the mood up further in terms of the sheer mess Syr was witnessing. Along with the spectral forms of several other instruments floating alongside the player to add to the tune.

It also didn’t help that the chair went flying back into the crowd as a rather annoyed looking Soren charged back into the hall.

“Alright which one of you freakin’ muppets threw that thing?!” Soren shouted, being drowned out by the still roaring fight circle and blaring music. Eyes shadowing over, the young man gave a dark chuckle as his arms swayed loosely. “Too distracted, eh? Alright then, guess I’m tellin’ these numbskulls I’m back the old-fashioned way! Out of the way dipshits!”

Syr felt an eye twitching as Soren charged ahead and leaped headlong into the crowd, which promptly roared even louder as he went barreling in. It was around there that Syr’s luggage dropped to the ground as her grip on it slacked.

“Well, well, seems the timing couldn’t have been better… or worse depending on some perspectives,” Syr heard someone speak, turning to the main counter of the establishment, spotting its tender waving to her.

Said tender was a young looking Dynoriath, though he bore a much darker complexion than most of the others Syr had seen, hinting he likely wasn’t of Lagunan descent himself, going with his black hair yet with pale grey eyes that stood out thanks to said dark complexion.

“You look a little lost there, Miss Alf. Surprised our humble abode is so… well I suppose lively is one way to describe it.”

“Or perhaps rowdy…” Syr murmured, flinching as she spotted Soren getting tossed above the crowd, before sending himself back down towards whoever had thrown him with a blast of air from his hand. “Are they…?”

“Ah don’t worry, this happens all the time ‘round this place.”

“… I’m not sure that’s a thing to be casual about.”

“Hahaha! Don’t worry, this is always in good fun,” said the tender, waving a hand to pass it off. Syr certainly didn’t seem convinced. “Well… sometimes more than a few things get broken. And it’s not always the furniture.”

“Bah, the lass be right to be concerned for these grock shites!” A much more gravelly voice squawked, Syr looking to the side as a much smaller figure hopped up to one of the chairs of the reception bar. The small arrival was humanoid themselves, but of a rather squat few feet in height, with gangly limbs yet a surprising amount of muscle.

Their skin was of a dark orange shade, and their face crinkled into a seemingly permanent scowl as their long ears flopped about between grey locks of frizzled hair.

“Buncha fookin’ gnobs is what that lot is. Can’t even have a simple discussion without snappin’ at each other! An’ then the rest just encourage it!”

“Ah come now, Meli, it’s always a fun time even when it gets rough,” said the other teller, their short companion scoffing. “Sorry about her, Meli is… a bit on the cranky side. Even for a Machinian Goblin!”

“Oi! If I wanted ya’ to insult me to my face lad, I’d have said it,” barked Meli, slapping the young man on the arm, though there was something playful in the gesture. Then she turned to Syr. “Sorry ‘bout him, lad’s cheeky. As he said, the name’s Meli. I’m one of this mess of a place’s Keepers. This one here’s my assistant.”

“Think of it like a receptionist specialized in catering to Freelancer business,” said the other Keeper, “I’m Manas. If you showed up with Soren, then you’ve got to be interesting. This have anything to do with that Drake that got loose earlier today?”

“Ah Concepts curse me,” Meli suddenly groaned, “Can that boy not help himself from doin’ reckless shite even after he’s done with one mad job?! I swear, he’ll do just about anythin’ if he thinks the coin is good!”

“Well, he wouldn’t be a High Ranker if he wasn’t a bit of a fool,” Manas mused.

“I actually think what he did was quite brave,” Syr stated, Meli giving a hum. “And it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Syr Fleyldis, from Vanira. As you might have guessed, I came here to Clearharbor with interests in becoming a Freelancer myself,” she once again glanced at the crowd, who hollered as something happened within. She did hear Soren yell like he’d won in some manner. “The first impression has been… interesting.”

“Well, gettin’ a Richie from those old woods ain’t that unusual,” Meli mused, Syr raising a brow at the unclear slang, “Ya’ don’t see just anyone walkin’ about in such fancy attire and a staff like that. So, either you’re some rich darlin’ or from the College.”

“The College, to be precise,” Syr stated, Meli only grunting in reply. “And I’m sorry… Richie?”

“Bit of Freelancer slang is all,” Manas clarified, “It refers to aspiring Freelancers who come in with expensive looking gear it’d normally take someone with experience to get their hands on. I promise it’s not meant to be an insult… most of the time.”

“Only becomes one if ya’ prove it to be insultin’,” Meli then opened a window on the terminal in front of her, flicking through it as she leaned on a hand. Catching Syr looking back at the crowd, again, the goblin sighed, “If you must know, that there mess started cause o’ some of our other High Rankers. A dwarf and a Kólasi, you’ll meet ‘em if you stick around. Gobs always argue about the stupidest shite since they’ve got totally different ideas about how to fight things. Hard to believe they’re in the same blasted party! I ‘unno how their leader manages it.”

“We are talking about Sellen,” Manas stated, “She can keep just about anyone in line no matter how troublesome,” noting how Syr was politely waiting, Manas chuckled, “Anyway, Miss Fleyldis, I’m gonna assume you only just got here, right? If you’re looking to join our humble little order, I suggest first taking a look at some of the other Halls around here. A College graduate like you might be better suited for another one of them than our rowdy little place.”

“You tryin’ to make us lose someone that ruddy valuable?” Meli drawled, “I mean, don’t pressure the lass, but also don’t immediately tell her to screw off to those snobs associated with the College! No offense to ya’, ya’ seem like a good lass.”

“None taken, I quite agree, in fact,” Syr said, earning an amused chuckle from the goblin. “I’m not trying to be hasty about who I choose to join, I can say that. But I came here with Soren since it was on the way… and after today, honestly, I’m also just looking for a place to rest before anything else.”

“If ya’ want some food and board, the cost be 3 silvers a night for non-Hall members,” said Meli, tapping the tabletop, “I’m going to rightly assume you’re not coming to a new city strapped for cash.”

“Not at all,” Syr reached into her coat, drawing the rather finely embroidered coin purse from an inner pocket. Meli gave the item a look as Syr produced nine silver coins and slid them across the countertop.

“Careful with a purse lookin’ like that, gonna draw eyes,” Meli hummed, plucking two of the coins and rolling them in her palm, “Blessed be universal currency… though Vaniran coins do be fancy in their own way. No machine pressin’ or hammer smackin’… too smooth for some’s taste.”

“We Alfs do pride ourselves on our magical talents when it comes to shaping things,” Syr noted, Manas chuckling as he drew a keycard from a drawer, sliding it to Syr, a number tag dangling from a ring on it. “Thank you.”

“Visitor rooms are over to the right here,” Manas said, leaning across the counter to point off towards them, “Mealtime’s gonna be soon if you’re hankering for something. We got some good chefs here, so hope that forest palate is ready for something new. And thankfully the idiots look to be winding down.”

“’bout damn time,” Meli grumbled, taking a swig from a flask she produced out of her coat. “So, who bloody won?”

“Soren, of course,” Manas mused, watching with Syr as the crowd parted, revealing a now somewhat more scuffed looking Soren mugging down at a collapsed dwarf and Kólasi on the floor from a table, though a fair bit heavier of breath himself. “Ah those poor fools. Don’t mess with a Saint ranked swordsman even in hand-to-hand, never ends well.”

“So, he is Saint ranked,” Syr hummed, “He mentioned he graduated from the Sword Saint Academy, so I figured he was at least King ranked. But he’s higher…”

“Oh, trust me, the story about Soren’s time at the SSA is a good one. But I’m sure that’s something for another time. Do enjoy yourself!”

Syr nodded as Manas waved her off. Turning about, she strode towards Soren as he and the two trouble-causers were chatting, picking up on the conversation as she got closer.