Coins, Care, and a Place to Stay

The first thing Elias does when we step away from the market is grab my wrist.

Not harshly. Not urgently.

But firmly.

Like he has been waiting for the right moment.

I blink up at him. "What?"

His eyes flick down—toward the faint scrape along my arm, the one from earlier when the wolf had caught me off guard.

"It's nothing," I say.

Elias does not look convinced.

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly, and before I can react, his fingers brush along my skin—soft, careful, tracing the wound like he's memorising it.

I freeze.

The touch is nothing.

And yet, it is too much.

His thumb barely grazes the edge of the scrape, but the heat of it lingers long after he pulls away.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me," he mutters.

I roll my eyes. "It's a scratch, Elias."

"It's an unnecessary scratch," he counters. "Which means it needs to be taken care of."

He still hasn't let go of my wrist.

——

We make our way through Velia, heading toward Alustin's house (Velia's Alchemist)—one of the few places that deal in potions and herbal remedies.

Elias insists on leading the way, as if I am suddenly incapable of walking on my own.

I let him.

It seems to make him feel better.

And—if I am being honest—

I do not mind it.

——

Alustin's house is a small, cluttered space filled with vials, dried herbs, and the unmistakable scent of alchemy. The moment we step inside, a young girl with sharp brown eyes looks up from where she is sorting bottles.

She tilts her head. "You don't look like our usual customers."

Elias gestures vaguely to me. "She got scratched."

I scowl. "You make it sound like I was attacked by a bear."

He smirks. "Just saying. Could've been worse."

The girl—Clorince (Velia's Alchemist's Assistant)—raises an eyebrow but says nothing as she steps forward, inspecting the wound with a practiced eye.

"Not deep," she muses. "A little cleaning, and it'll be fine."

She turns, moving toward the shelves, grabbing a small vial filled with a pale blue liquid.

"This is a minor healing potion," Clorince explains, handing it to me. "Should help with any lingering pain or infection."

I nod, reaching for my coin pouch—

Only for Elias to beat me to it.

His fingers brush against mine as he casually hands over the payment, his expression entirely neutral.

I stare at him.

He ignores me.

Clorince raises an eyebrow but takes the coins, nodding. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Elias hums, already moving toward the door. "C'mon, let's go."

I scowl. "I can pay for myself, you know."

Elias grins, not even looking back.

"Sure you can," he says. "But I like taking care of my girl."

——

My girl.

I do not react.

I do not allow myself to react.

But my face burns all the same.

——

After dealing with the potion, we head toward Islin Bartali's house (Velia's Storage Keeper).

"Banking, then?" I muse.

Elias nods. "We made a decent amount of coin today. No point carrying it all when we could store it somewhere safer."

"Safer?" I scoff. "Are you expecting someone to rob us?"

Elias smirks. "You never know."

I roll my eyes but follow him anyway.

——

Islin Bartali (Velia's Storage Keeper) is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a permanent frown and arms like tree trunks.

When we approach, he barely looks up from his work. "Newcomers?"

Elias nods. "Something like that."

"Looking to open a storage account?"

"That's the plan."

Islin grunts, nodding toward the massive wooden chests behind him. "We take a percentage fee for holding your goods, but it's safer than carrying everything around."

Elias hums thoughtfully, glancing at me. "What do you think?"

I tilt my head. "How much are we talking?"

Islin names a price.

Elias considers. Then shrugs. "Sounds fair."

He hands over a portion of our earnings, securing a small but practical storage space for anything we don't want to carry.

Once the transaction is complete, Islin finally looks up properly, his gaze flicking between us.

"You two looking for long-term work?" he asks.

I blink. "Why?"

"Because if you are, I can point you toward the right people," Islin says simply. "Velia's a small place, but coin flows where there's effort. You just have to know where to look."

Elias raises an eyebrow. "And you'd tell us just like that?"

Islin shrugs. "I don't like waste. If you two can hunt as well as I've heard, then it'd be a shame not to use that talent."

I exchange a glance with Elias.

This… could be useful.

But before we can ask for more details, Islin waves a hand.

"Think about it," he says. "Come back when you're ready."

——

By the time we leave, the sky has shifted into dusk, the last remnants of sunlight painting the village in hues of deep orange and violet.

I sigh, stretching. "One last thing."

Elias raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

I glance around. "We need a place to stay."

Elias hums, thoughtful. "I could charm my way into someone's house."

I kick him in the shin.

"Ow."

"You deserved that."

Elias mutters something under his breath but ultimately follows as we make our way toward Isolde (Velia's Merchant and Dock Worker)—the only person we actually know who might be able to help.

When we find her, she is stacking crates near the docks, her sleeves rolled up, her expression tired but focused.

She glances up as we approach, raising an eyebrow. "You two again?"

Elias grins. "We need a favour."

Isolde snorts. "Oh, I bet you do."

I clear my throat. "We need a place to stay."

Isolde hums, thinking. Then—

"There's a storage shed near the docks."

Elias groans. "Not again."

Isolde laughs. "Relax, it's not as bad as last time. A bit bigger. Warmer. Less fish smell."

I sigh. "We'll take it."

Elias looks betrayed.

But by the time we step inside, setting down our belongings for the night, he says nothing.

Instead, as I settle against the wall, he plops down beside me, letting his head rest against my shoulder without warning.

I freeze.

"Elias—"

"Shhh," he mutters, eyes closed. "Just let me."

I hesitate.

But I do not move.

Because, despite everything—despite the teasing, despite the exhaustion, despite the weight of the unknown pressing against us—

For now, this is enough.