Alehouse

The night was alive, pulsing with energy. Though the sun had long disappeared beyond the horizon, the town of Critter Cove showed no signs of slowing down. From one tavern to another, songs of sailors, merchants, and travelers echoed through the cobbled streets. Drunken men stumbled along the alleys, their laughter and shouts blending into the night's symphony of merriment.

Near the town's main ranch, two wagons stood parked side by side—one battered and worn from travel, its wooden frame barely holding together, while the other was freshly built, its polished timber gleaming under the soft glow of lanterns. The horses, unbothered by their masters' affairs, feasted hungrily on the provided grass, their tails flicking away the occasional fly.

Not far from the stables, Bon and Kartia followed behind a broad-shouldered man with a confident gait. His large frame moved with surprising ease, navigating through the bustling streets with familiarity. The two young travelers trailed after him, their gazes sweeping over the vibrant town, taking in every detail with wonder.

Their journey led them to a sturdy building with a wooden sign above its entrance. Words were etched onto the sign, forming a name neither of them could decipher. Bon squinted at the letters, trying to piece them together, while Kartia tilted her head, hoping a different angle might make them clearer.

"What does it say?" Bon asked, leaning slightly toward the man.

The man chuckled. "This is my alehouse."

"A what-house?" Kartia repeated, curiosity evident in her voice.

"An alehouse," the man said again, this time slower. "It's a place where people come to buy food and drink—cooked meals, properly prepared, and made for those who don't have the time or patience to cook for themselves." He placed a heavy hand on his hip and glanced toward the busy streets. "A place like Critter Cove is always filled with travelers, workers, and merchants. Not everyone has the luxury of making their own meals, so we provide them with hearty dishes, good drink, and a place to relax."

Bon and Kartia exchanged glances, their expressions skeptical.

"So… people pay for food?" Bon muttered, almost offended by the thought.

Kartia frowned. "Can't they just hunt?"

The man laughed. "Not everyone's a wildling like you two."

Before they could continue their questioning, a voice called from within.

"Old man, you're back late."

The voice came from behind a counter near the back of the establishment. A young man stood there, his white hair reflecting the dim lantern light. His tall figure leaned lazily against the wooden frame, his expression one of mild irritation.

"I swear, you always drag in trouble whenever you return," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking past the large man—straight at Bon and Kartia.

His narrowed gaze quickly turned into a glare.

"No way. Tell me you didn't pick up more strays!"

Bon, immediately offended, leaped onto the counter, landing right in front of him. Their faces were now only inches apart.

"Who are you calling a kid?!" Bon snapped, puffing out his chest. "I'm fifteen, and I'm on my way to becoming the King of the Jungle!"

Kartia crossed her arms, stepping up beside Bon. "Yeah, and I'm a young lady!" she added proudly.

The silver-haired man, Noira, stared at them in disbelief. He slowly placed a hand over his forehead, exhaling deeply.

"Great. Just great," he muttered. "More trouble."

The large man, their guide into the alehouse, grinned at the exchange before stepping in to formally introduce them.

"Quite the pair, aren't they?" he mused. "Meet Bon and Kartia—I ran into them near the park's entrance."

Then, turning toward the silver-haired young man, he gestured at him with a nod.

"This is Noira. He may be a bit rough around the edges, but he's a good kid."

Bon, still standing atop the counter, stared at Noira's white hair, his expression unreadable.

Noticing the intense gaze, Noira's sharp eyes flicked back at him, irritation evident.

"What?" he snapped.

Bon grinned. "Your hair's cool."

Noira blinked, clearly caught off guard. His irritation faltered for just a moment, replaced by confusion.

Kartia scoffed. "Bon, that hair would look better on me."

Bon turned to her, smirking. "Who said you're pretty?"

Her brow twitched.

"You little—"

Before she could lunge at him, Noira stepped between them, shoving Bon off the counter and glaring at them both.

"Hey! I just cleaned this place, and now you're messing it up again," he snapped.

Surprisingly, they listened, stopping their bickering almost immediately.

With a sigh, Noira turned toward the large man—Ronan, the alehouse's owner—who had quietly excused himself to prepare something in the back.

Moments later, he returned, carrying a tray of steaming dishes. The aroma of seasoned meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, immediately capturing the attention of the hungry travelers.

"Here, eat up," Ronan said, setting the dishes down.

Bon and Kartia wasted no time, grabbing portions like starving animals.

"I'll pass," Noira said, waving a dismissive hand.

"Come on, don't be difficult," Ronan said, shaking his head.

Before Noira could protest further, Bon yanked him onto the bench, forcing him to join them.

"It's not like I have a choice, huh?" Noira muttered, begrudgingly picking up a fork.

As they ate, their conversation naturally drifted to Bon's ambitions.

"So, where are you headed?" Ronan asked, slicing into his meat.

Bon grinned, pointing toward the east. "To the Great Jungle. To be King of the Jungle"

Silence followed.

Both Ronan and Noira paused, exchanging subtle glances.

"You should never say that out loud in the park," Ronan warned, his voice low.

Bon blinked. "Huh? Why not?"

Kartia leaned in, also curious. "Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

Ronan sighed. "Because the parks—Critter Cove included—are territories of the Jungle Governing Body (JGB). That means they fall under the protection and laws of the Ranger Society. Saying you want to be the King of the Jungle here… is like declaring war against the system."

Bon and Kartia exchanged confused glances.

Realizing they weren't following, Noira simplified it.

"In short, if you say that here, people will see you as a predator—a criminal in the JGB's eyes."

They both nodded slowly, finally understanding.

Kartia tapped the table. "So, what exactly is the Jungle Governing Body?"

"The ruling system," Ronan explained. "They control all the parks and enforce their laws."

Again, their blank expressions made it obvious that the explanation had gone over their heads.

Noira sighed. "They're the ones preventing the rise of a new Jungle King."

Now that, they understood.

As the meal continued, Ronan changed the subject.

"So, how did you two end up here?"

Bon opened his mouth to come up with an excuse, but Kartia beat him to it.

"This idiot set out on a journey without knowing how to read a map."

Ronan chuckled. "So, you're looking for a guide, then?"

Kartia groaned. "Yes. Otherwise, we'll be going in circles forever."

As the conversation wrapped up, Ronan arranged a place for them to sleep for the night—Kartia in a private room, while Bon was forced to share a space with Noira.

Their adventure in Critter Cove had only just begun.