97.-The Guild of the Curious

The sun sank over East Vigil, staining the sky a dirty orange that slipped between the crooked rooftops. The cobblestone streets buzzed with life: carts rattled over loose stones, barefoot children darted between shrill laughter, and the air carried chimney smoke mixed with the sweetness of freshly baked bread. Stone and timber buildings rose in a haphazard jumble, their shadows stretching long over the damp cobblestones. At the end of a winding street, amid fruit stalls and murky puddles, stood the adventurers' guild: a gray hulk marked by rain and soot, a sign swaying above the entrance with a crossed sword and shield, creaking in the wind.

Sebastián walked with a light step, his threadbare backpack slung over one shoulder, worn boots splashing through the mud. His messy brown hair fell over warm eyes that sparkled with curiosity, a scruffy beard barely hiding an irrepressible smile. His calloused hands swung relaxed, the brown shirt—stained with dried mud—flapping loosely. Beside him, Kaili strode with annoyance and majesty, her black armor with silver trim creaking with each step, fitted to her voluptuous figure. Her short cape fluttered behind her, jet-black hair cascading like liquid obsidian to her waist, and her dark eyes with silver flecks cut through the air.

—"Kaili, look at this!" Sebastián said, his voice rising with an enthusiasm that rang over the squeak of a nearby cart, turning his head toward the guild with eyes shining as if he'd just found a Dragon's Tear in the muck. "It's like stepping out of a dungeon after a hundred years and seeing the world for the first time. Is that the adventurers' guild? We've got to go in, even just for a bit! Isn't it amazing?"

Kaili crossed her arms with a sharp creak of her armor, the metal clashing like an echo of her displeasure, and raised an eyebrow while shooting him a look that could've crumbled Eldoria's walls in a blink.

—"What a drag, gardener," she grumbled, kicking a loose stone that bounced off a cart with a dry clack, rolling away between the legs of a vendor who muttered a curse under his breath. "It smells like stale sweat, cheap beer, and idiot humans from here. Why the hell do you want to step into that filthy rat's nest?"

He laughed, a warm, clear sound that cut through the bustle like a sunbeam piercing gray clouds, scratching the back of his neck with a calloused hand still crusted with dirt under the nails, the gesture so natural it seemed part of his breathing.

—"Because I've never seen one in person, princess," he replied, shrugging with that relaxed stance that defied the world's tension, his backpack wobbling slightly as he walked. "A hundred years in the dungeon with Aurora, reading her tales of sword-wielding guys and beasts, hoping she'd hear me from her cocoon. This is real. Come on, just for a bit."

She huffed, the sound escaping like a hiss through clenched teeth, her breath forming a brief cloud in the cool afternoon air, but her eyes softened for a moment—a flicker barely noticeable, like a spark in the dark—before hardening again with an annoyance that felt more theatrical than genuine.

—"Do what you want, gardener," she said, uncrossing her arms with a slow motion that made her armor creak like distant thunder, taking a step forward that echoed on the cobblestones. "But if I get bored, I'll drag you out by the ears to the first ditch I find, and don't ask me to smile at those grimy fools with rusty swords."

—"Deal," he replied, his smile widening as if he'd just won a game, adjusting his backpack with a clumsy tug that nearly made him stumble into a puddle. "But I bet you'll find something you like in there. Even if it's just to smash it with those wings of yours and then tell me how it felt."

—"Keep dreaming, gardener," she shot back, but the corner of her mouth curled into a crooked smile she couldn't fully suppress, a flash of white teeth gleaming for a second before she turned her head, her hair rippling like a black curtain that caught the sunlight and tossed it back in bright shards.

The guild's door, a wooden arch braced with iron, creaked open under Sebastián's hand, releasing a warm, thick air. Dark beams held up a high ceiling, rickety tables bore spilled mugs, and trophies of horns and stuffed heads hung on the walls beneath oil lamps casting dancing shadows. The air smelled of sweat, old leather, and sour beer, vibrating with shouts and hoarse laughter.

Sebastián stopped just inside, his eyes widening as he turned his head in every direction, soaking in every detail with a mix of awe and delight that made him look like a kid lost in a market for the first time. To his right, a table of adventurers played dice, a burly man with a scar across his nose tossing a die that bounced off a mug with a sharp clack, followed by a yell of "Damn it!" that drew laughs from his companions, their voices ringing like a chaotic chorus. To his left, a skinny man in a tattered green cloak sharpened a dagger against a stone, the rasping sound slicing the air like a sharp whisper, while a woman with braided red hair slammed an empty mug on the table, shouting for more beer in a voice that could've woken the dead, the thud of the wood trembling under her fist.

—"This is insane, Kaili!" Sebastián said, his voice rising to be heard over the din, his eyes gleaming as if he'd just unearthed a treasure. "It's like those stories I read to Aurora in the dungeon, but with smells and everything! Look at those heads on the wall—think any of them are from a wyvern? Maybe a small dragon? What do you say?"

Kaili shot him a sidelong glance, crossing her arms again with a creak of her armor that echoed through the chaos, her face twisting into a grimace caught between annoyance and amusement.

—"Go to your counter, gardener," she said, giving him a light shove on the shoulder with her fingertips that made him stumble forward a step, nearly crashing into a bearded guy carrying a mug who growled "Watch it, idiot!" before moving on. "I'll look around, but don't expect me to get excited about this circus of armed filth."

He laughed, regaining his balance with a clumsy move that left him wobbling like a drunk, his backpack swinging dangerously before he steadied it with a quick tug.

—"I'm gonna see what weird plants grow around here," he said, pointing to a counter at the back of the hall where a young woman stood amid a messy pile of scrolls. "You don't break anything, okay? Or at least wait 'til I see it first, so you can tell me how you did it."

—"No promises, gardener," she replied, turning with a fluid motion that sent her cape billowing like a flag in a storm, the edge brushing the floor with a soft whisper as she headed toward a corner of the guild where a splintered board hung on the wall, covered in yellowed scrolls that looked ready to fall.

Sebastián wove through the crowd, dodging elbows and heavy boots with an agility that was more luck than skill, his boots leaving wet streaks on the floor as he went. He passed a group of three adventurers arguing loudly over a map spread on a table, one—a short man with a braided beard—jabbing the paper with a dirty finger while barking, "I'm telling you, the nest is east, not south, you thickhead!" in a voice that cut like an axe. Further on, a woman in worn leather armor sang an off-key ballad about a knight and a dragon, her voice cracking on the high notes while a pair of drunks tried to follow along, stumbling over the words and spilling beer in the process, the liquid splashing with a plop-plop that mingled with their clumsy laughter. Finally, he reached the counter, resting his calloused hands on the wood with a soft thud that jostled a stack of scrolls.

The receptionist, a woman in her twenties with brown hair tied in a messy braid that unraveled at the ends, looked up from a scroll crammed with tight scrawl. Her tired but kind eyes had dark bags beneath them, as if she hadn't slept in days, and an ink smudge streaked her left cheek like a battle mark. She set her quill down with a soft clack in the inkwell and offered an exhausted smile that barely curved her lips.

—"Welcome to the guild, stranger," she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a thin but steady thread, barely audible over a man cursing the dice at a nearby table. "How can I help you today?"

—"Hey," Sebastián replied, leaning slightly over the counter, his shirt brushing a scroll that slid an inch before he caught it with a clumsy move. "I'm looking for info on rare plants growing near East Vigil. I'm an herbalist, and, well, I've been out of the world for a while, so anything weird interests me. Got anything?"

She blinked, tilting her head as she sized him up—his worn shirt with dried dirt stains, the frayed backpack that looked ready to fall apart, the scruffy beard that wouldn't quite grow in—as if trying to decide if he was a lunatic, a joker, or just an oddball who'd stumbled into the guild by mistake.

—"Rare plants, huh?" she said, frowning as she pulled a thick book from under the counter, the leather covers creaking like dry leaves as she opened it. "Not exactly what most folks ask for around here. Most come for wyverns, goblins, or a sack of Argentyum. But let me see. Anything specific? Poisonous, healing, glowing—what're you after?"

—"Anything worth it," he replied, scratching his chin with a crooked smile that showed a slightly chipped tooth, his voice rising with an enthusiasm that felt out of place amid the noise. "If it glows in the dark, smells weird, or makes you see strange things, even better. I like the odd stuff, you know? The kind no one else dares touch."

—"Got it," she said, flipping through the book with quick fingers that left ink smudges on the pages, pausing at a sheet filled with scribbles and sketches of twisted leaves. "Give me a sec—I'll check the expedition logs. Sit if you want, though I can't promise clean chairs with all these folks spilling beer."

—"I'm good standing," he said, leaning more on the counter as he glanced around the guild, his eyes shining with a curiosity that didn't dim even in the chaos. "This beats any story I ever read to Aurora. Is it always this wild?"

—"Worse on weekends," she replied, not looking up from the book, her quill scratching quick notes. "Wait here—I'm gonna grab something from the back files. Don't move, or someone'll swipe your spot."

—"No problem," he said, nodding as he turned to scan the hall, his smile growing as if he'd just found a hidden garden amid all the wood and sweat.

Kaili reached the board, her boots ringing out. Wrinkled scrolls hung with drawings of beasts—wolves, goblins, a wyvern—next to promises of Argentyum coin rewards. The air smelled of old ink and beer. She brushed a scroll, her face twisting in disdain.

Kaili raised a gloved hand, fingers grazing a scroll with a wyvern sketch, the monster's jagged lines seeming to tremble under her touch as if they knew what she could do with a snap of her wings. Her face twisted into a sneer that wrinkled her nose like she'd smelled something rotten, and she dropped her hand with a sharp motion, her gauntlet striking the board's edge with a dry clack that shook a loose scroll until it fell to the floor with a muted rustle.

—"Wyverns? Wolves?" she thought, her inner voice sharp as a freshly honed blade, her silver eyes narrowing as they scanned the scrolls. "What pathetic garbage. My queen would shred them with a sigh, and this gardener would crush them with one of his damn plants without even noticing. What a waste of ink and air."

She crossed her arms with a creak of her armor, the sound ringing like a silent challenge as her short cape fluttered behind her, brushing the floor with a whisper that seemed to mock the surrounding chaos. A young adventurer, a skinny kid with a short sword at his belt and a mud-stained brown cloak, passed close by, his eyes widening before he tripped over his own feet and crashed into a table, spilling a mug of beer that drew curses from the men seated there, their voices rising like a pack of rabid dogs.

In a corner of the guild, Cassian sat with the Silver Crows, his short, tousled blonde hair falling over deep blue eyes that gleamed with a mix of hardness and exhaustion, a faint scar crossing his cheek like a memento of a claw swipe that nearly killed him years ago, when a black wolf cornered him in a frozen forest and he gutted it with a broken dagger, hot blood splashing his face as his hands shook with rage. His black leather armor, with worn silver accents, creaked as he moved, the plates scratched and dented with tales of ogres, serpents, and nights under the rain. His short blue cape, frayed at the edges like a banner from hard-won battles, hung from his shoulders, and the longsword at his hip, its hilt carved by his own hands on a sleepless night, rested like a familiar weight anchoring him to the world.

Cassian hadn't been born with luck or titles. He was the son of a knight betrayed by a greedy lord who forged debts to seize his lands, an honorable man hanged in a square while a silent crowd watched, his mother dying of fever in a freezing hut with him, a scrawny eight-year-old, holding her cold hand until it stopped trembling. He grew up among beggars and thieves, stealing moldy bread and sleeping in alleys where rats were kinder than men. At 15, he killed his first wolf with a broken dagger scavenged from a dump, hot blood splashing his face as he swore never to be weak again, his hands trembling not from fear but from a fury that consumed him. Since then, he hunted beasts others feared—ogres roaring in dark caves, serpents poisoning rivers with a lethal hiss—rising to B-rank with a charisma forged in pain and a will that bent neither to hunger nor cold. Every Argentyum coin in his pouch was an echo of that struggle, a reminder that the world had given him nothing he hadn't clawed out with his own bloodied hands.

Beside him, Rolk downed a mug of beer, the liquid dripping through his thick black beard flecked with gray like ash scattered over coal. Built like a bull, his dark eyes glinted with a dry humor that hid the scars of a broken life, his heavy mace resting on the table with a thud that rattled the mugs. Once a blacksmith, he'd lost his forge to a fire set by a greedy noble who wanted his land for a stable; the flames took his tools, his home, and his little daughter's laughter, lost under a roof he couldn't save. Cassian found him half-dead under a bridge, surrounded by bandits beating him for a debt that wasn't his, and saved him with a sword strike that still echoed in his nightmares. Rolk hunted for redemption, each beast a step toward erasing the guilt gnawing at him, his hoarse laugh an echo of better days that wouldn't return.

Tarin, skinny and jittery, drummed his fingers on his longbow, the green leather of his clothes stained with mud and sap like a map of his blunders, his messy brown hair falling over his sweaty forehead in damp strands. His green eyes darted restlessly, and at 22, he still shook remembering the bear that killed his hunter father in a forest at dawn, the beast's roar mingling with the broken scream of a man who never came home. He joined Cassian to prove himself, his aim deadly but his heart wavering, each arrow he loosed an attempt to find the courage he lacked, an echo of lessons his father couldn't finish teaching.

Gorran, stocky and bald, watched everything with cold gray eyes sharp as the daggers at his belt, tattoos of runes on his arms telling a life of theft and shadows before trading burglary for hunting. His tattered gray cloak fluttered like a whisper, and his meeting with Cassian—a fight in a dark alley where he tried to steal his pouch and ended with a dagger at his throat and reluctant respect—brought him to this crew. Cunning and pragmatic, he saw them as a way to survive without breaking his own code, each mission a cold calculation keeping him alive another day, his silence a weapon as sharp as his blades.

Cassian slammed his fist on the table, the thud ringing out as he raised his half-full mug, foam dripping down the side and pooling in a puddle that glinted under the light of a nearby fireplace crackling with sparks.

—"A wyvern'll make us rich in Argentyum," he said, his deep voice cutting through the guild's noise like a worn but steady blade, his blue eyes gleaming with a mix of confidence and weariness. "If we take it down fast, those coins'll be clinking in our pouches before the sun sets tomorrow. What do you say?"

Rolk laughed, a hoarse sound that shook his beard as he slammed his mug down with a splash that sent beer glistening like pearls under the flickering light.

—"As long as Tarin doesn't shit himself again," he said, winking at the younger man, who flushed red to his ears and dropped his gaze like he wanted to crawl under the table.

—"Shut up, old man!" Tarin snapped, his voice rising with a tremor that betrayed his attempt at firmness, his fingers gripping his bow like a lifeline. "That thing was huge, and I still hit it in the eye, didn't I? Tell him, Gorran!"

Gorran snorted, drumming his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm that seemed to measure time, his gray eyes pinning Tarin like daggers that didn't need unsheathing.

—"Yeah, after Cassian had it half-dead and I hacked off a leg," he said, his dry tone slicing like a honed edge. "Save your arrows for when they count, kid. Or at least aim before you shake."

—"It was a lizard with wings, not a god," Rolk cut in, leaning forward with a grin that bared a chipped tooth, his voice ringing with a friendly taunt. "I smashed its leg with my mace, and Cassian had it spinning like a headless chicken before Tarin landed that lucky shot."

—"It was a clean shot," Tarin insisted, drumming faster, his green eyes flashing with a mix of shame and defiance. "Ask the beast—oh, wait, it's dead, 'cause my arrow killed it."

—"'Cause I gutted it first," Cassian said, half-smiling as he raised his mug, the liquid splashing with a plop as he clinked it against Rolk's. "You just gave it the goodbye, kid. But it was good—I'll give you that."

—"And I got the coins for the fangs," Gorran added, pulling a dagger and twirling it between his fingers with a precision that cut the air. "Less talk, more wyverns. If we're going for this one, I want my share before Tarin spooks it off."

—"I didn't spook it," Tarin protested, crossing his arms in a gesture more childish than firm. "It just… caught me off guard, that's all. This time, I'll nail it from the start—you'll see."

—"Sure, kid," Rolk said, laughing as he clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock him off the bench. "And I'll dance with the wyvern before I crush its skull. Cassian, tell him to stop daydreaming."

—"Leave him be, Rolk," Cassian replied, his smile hardening as he eyed the group. "If Tarin says he'll nail it, let him. But if he misses, I'll cut his ears off and use 'em as bait. Deal?"

—"Deal," Gorran said, nodding with a cold glint in his eyes. "And I'll take the wings. They make good trophies."

Cassian was about to reply when he saw her. Kaili stood by the board, her figure a whirlwind of sensuality and power that hit him like a punch to the chest. Her pale skin glowed with an unearthly edge, a sharp beauty offset by hair black as liquid obsidian that rippled like a living river, brushing a sculpted waist and wide hips that strained her tight black armor, the plates hugging voluptuous breasts in a dance of chaos and desire. Her silver eyes, set against black sclera, pierced him like stellar ice, a gleam promising destruction. The armor, with silver trim, screamed power, molded to a form that defied his will, making him feel small before a presence that echoed the beasts he'd faced.

—"Cassian?" Rolk said, frowning as he paused with his mug halfway up, beer dripping through his beard as he stared with a mix of confusion and mockery. "You cramp up or what's wrong?"

Tarin craned his neck, his green eyes widening as he tried to follow Cassian's gaze, his nervous hand brushing his bow like he needed something to cling to.

—"What's up? Is she a noble or something?" he asked, his voice quaking with a mix of curiosity and nerves, his fingers drumming faster against the wood.

Gorran crossed his arms, the tattoos on his forearms flexing as he glanced at Cassian with a raised eyebrow, his face impassive but with a flicker of warning in his eyes.

—"Shut it, Tarin," he said, his tone flat but edged enough to cut the air. "If Cassian's gone mute, it's not a good sign. Watch and learn."

Cassian barely heard them. His chest tightened, a knot forming in his throat as he stared—not just at what he saw, but what he felt. This woman was a blow to the senses, beautiful like a queen who needed no crown or throne, but it wasn't just that. He'd faced ogres roaring in dark caves, their fangs dripping drool as they charged, serpents poisoning rivers with a hiss that froze the blood, but this was different. She wasn't a beast to hunt; she was something that could hunt him, a wolf staring you down before it leaps, and that thought burned inside him like a fire he couldn't douse, a challenge that made him feel small for the first time in years.

—"Quiet, all of you," he said at last, his voice low but firm as he stood, the chair scraping the wooden floor with a groan that echoed through the din. "That woman… she's not one to let pass. I'm gonna talk to her."

Rolk let out a guffaw that boomed like a hammer on an anvil, slapping the table until the mugs rattled, beer splashing his beard as he leaned back.

—"Look at him!" he roared, his voice rising over the guild's noise. "The great Cassian, beast-slayer, melted by a pretty face! What's next, you gonna write her a song?"

—"It's not just a face, you ass," Cassian shot back, throwing him a look that could've cut steel, his blue eyes blazing with a fire that brooked no mockery. "It's… something else. You'll see. Shut that mouth before I shut it for you."

He set his mug down with a dry thud that splashed foam across the table and crossed the guild with steady strides, his boots thumping the wooden floor in a rhythm that hushed nearby murmurs as if the air itself knew something was coming. Adventurers parted for him, some recognizing him—Cassian, the one who killed the three-horned ogre at Riven Pass with a broken sword, who rose from nothing to lead the Silver Crows with an unyielding will—others just feeling the weight of his presence, a man who carried his history in every scar and step. He reached the board, stopping a pace from Kaili, and tilted his chin up with a smile tempered by years of struggle but bright with the charisma that had pulled him from the gutter, a shine that had convinced men and women to follow him through hell.

—"Pardon, my lady," he said, his deep voice smooth as a river over worn stones, laced with hard-earned respect but steady. "I'm Cassian, leader of the Silver Crows, B-rank. I've hunted beasts that'd make kings quake, and I don't say that to brag—I say it 'cause I've lived it. Join us for a wyvern? A woman like you deserves a crew worth a damn, not this rabble of drunks with rusty swords."

Kaili turned her head slowly, her silver eyes locking onto him like icy arrows that pierced his armor and pride like they were nothing, her face twisting into a sneer that made him feel like he'd just stepped in something rancid under his boot.

—"Wyvern?" she said, her voice cold as a freshly sharpened blade, each word dripping disdain like venom. "What pathetic trash. I despise anything weak, except my gardener; he's worth my time. Get lost, human."

Cassian blinked, the rejection hitting him like a cold wind in the face, a shiver running down his spine as he processed her words. She'd brushed him off like a stray dog? And who was this "gardener"? His pride, forged in years of blood, sweat, and rain-soaked nights with a dagger as his only friend, twisted in his chest like a rope about to snap, but it wasn't just that—this woman was a wildfire, a living challenge blazing before him, and he wasn't used to backing down, not after all he'd faced.

—"Pathetic, you say?" he replied, forcing a smile that hid the heat rising in his neck, his hands clenching into fists as he held his cool by sheer will. "I've killed things that'd make you rethink that word, my lady. I'm not asking you to polish my sword or fetch me beer—just to walk with the best. A wyvern's no rabid wolf, it's—"

—"Hey, Kaili, got admirers already?" a carefree voice cut in, and Cassian whipped his head around, his blue eyes narrowing as he saw a lanky guy strolling up with a goofy grin that seemed out of place in the guild's clamor.

He was a walking mess: messy brown hair falling in unruly strands over warm eyes that seemed to laugh at the world without effort, a patchy beard covering a tanned face that spoke of days under a sun not East Vigil's, a worn shirt with dried dirt stains and torn seams flapping loose over pants that'd seen too many roads. His boots were caked with mud, leaving wet streaks on the floor, and his frayed backpack hung off one shoulder like it might fall apart any second, the worn leather creaking with each step. His calloused hands scratched the back of his neck with a calm that bordered on insulting, and his relaxed stance—shoulders slack, head slightly tilted—made him look like a man with nothing to prove, or who didn't know what proving something meant.

—"Who does this grimy bastard think he is?" Cassian thought, sizing him up with contempt, his eyes raking over every detail like he was trying to solve a ridiculous riddle. "Patchy beard, dirty clothes—looks like they dragged him out of a dump and dropped him here by mistake."

—"What'd you say, skinny?" Cassian snapped, stepping toward him, his voice rising with an edge of irritation that lashed the air like a whip. "I've killed more beasts than you could count, so watch that tongue before I rip it out and nail it to that board."

Sebastián shrugged, his smile not faltering an inch as he scratched his chin with a calm that stung like a thorn in Cassian's pride.

—"Sure, buddy, but I'm with her," he said, nodding casually at Kaili in a way that made his backpack wobble a bit. "She doesn't need your wyverns or your hunter tales. She's got enough with my plants and my clumsiness."

Cassian laughed, a dry sound that came out more like a growl, but the heat in his chest flared until his cheeks burned. Tales? This skinny nobody had just called his feats—earned with blood, sweat, and sleepless nights under freezing storms—tales? Him, who'd torn ogre fangs out with his bare hands, who'd slept in caves with a dagger for a pillow while wolves howled outside, reduced to a braggart by a guy who looked like he'd never lifted anything heavier than a shovel?

—"Think you can mock me, drifter?" he said, his voice shaking with a mix of disbelief and barely contained fury, his fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. "Plants? What are you, a gardener who got lost on the way to the market and stumbled into something he doesn't get?"

—"Something like that," Sebastián replied, shrugging again, his tone light but with an edge that cut effortlessly, like a pebble rolling underfoot to trip you up unnoticed. "And she's my wife, so you don't need to keep wooing her so hard, buddy. Relax—we're not looking for trouble."

The guild seemed to hold its breath for a second, the murmur dying like a candle snuffed out with a sharp puff. Cassian froze, his blue eyes widening as he processed the words, his mind spinning like a dog chasing its tail. Wife? This scrawny drifter, with his dirty clothes and air of someone who'd never fought a chicken, was with her? Laughter erupted from his throat like a roar, bouncing off the board as he turned to his crew, his trembling finger pointing at Sebastián like he'd just told the world's dumbest joke.

—"Hear that?" he shouted, his voice slicing through the guild's noise like thunder, heads turning toward him from nearby tables. "This skinny guy says he's her husband! The gardener and the goddess! Who buys this crap?"

Rolk slammed the table with his palm, his guffaw booming like a hammer on iron, beer splashing his beard as he leaned back until his chair creaked under his bulk.

—"This is to die for!" he roared, his voice rising over the laughter sprouting like mushrooms after rain. "Cassian, you just got beat with a joke! A gardener, by all the gods!"

Tarin hesitated, his green eyes darting between Sebastián and Kaili, a nervous hand brushing his bow like he needed something solid to grip, his face pale under the flickering light.

—"I dunno… he doesn't seem to be lying," he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the laughter, his fingers drumming faster against the wood.

Gorran crossed his arms tighter, the tattoos on his forearms flexing as he watched the scene with a raised eyebrow, his face blank but with a flicker of curiosity in his gray eyes.

—"Waste of time," he said, his tone dry but with a hint of interest he couldn't hide. "But that woman… she doesn't look like she's playing. Watch yourself, Cassian."

Kaili, who'd been silent, turned her head toward Sebastián, her silver eyes softening for a moment, a warm gleam dancing in them as if the guild's chaos faded under the weight of those words. A crooked smile curved her lips, subtle but undeniable, a spark in her eyes as she brushed his arm with a finger, accepting his words without correcting him. She didn't deny it. Instead, she stepped closer, her armor creaking like distant thunder, and lifted her chin with a pride that seemed to say she liked this more than she'd admit.

Cassian turned back to Sebastián, the laughter fading into a crooked smile that barely hid the fire raging in his chest, his hands clenching into fists as the "wooing her so hard" jab kept digging like a thorn in his pride.

—"Wife, you say?" he spat, stepping closer, his shadow falling over the gardener like a dark cloud. "Look at yourself, skinny. You don't have the strength to carry that ratty backpack, let alone be with her. Admit you're bluffing and spare yourself the shame in front of all these drunks."

Sebastián laughed, a soft but clear sound that cut through the guild's noise like a stream slicing a storm, his warm eyes finding Kaili with a glint of affection that seemed to light up the whole hall.

—"She's my wife, that's all," he said, his voice calm but with a firmness that hit Cassian's pride like a pebble, scratching his neck as he looked at Kaili with a warmth that didn't need to shout to be felt. "No need to prove anything to a guy who brags so much. If you wanna fight over it, that's on you, but I'm not one to bust my face over nothing. Can't we just grab a beer and call it a day?"

Cassian felt heat flood his face, his fists clenching until his knuckles cracked, the jab sinking like a dagger in his pride. Brags so much? This grimy nobody, this gardener with no hint of a man's grit, had just stomped on his pride—the pride of a man who'd killed beasts barehanded, slept under rain with a dagger as his only comfort, carved his place in the world with blood and sweat—like he was a kid boasting tales in a tavern.

—"Fight?" Cassian said, his voice trembling with a mix of mockery and fury he could barely contain, stepping closer. "Let's make a deal, skinny. A duel: if I win, you pay me 100 Argentyum coins for that loose tongue of yours. If I lose, I'll crawl in front of everyone and admit I'm just a braggart with a stupid mouth."

The guild erupted in murmurs, adventurers crowding closer with mugs in hand, some laughing like hyenas, others whispering bets as they pressed around the board like flies on fresh meat. Sebastián raised his hands with that maddening calm, his crooked smile shining as if the taunts slid off him like water.

—"Hey, hey, buddy, no need," he said, his voice rising over the noise with a light but firm tone that cut through the murmurs. "Fighting's not my thing, you know? Tried it once, years ago, and nearly died like an idiot. A wolf had me pinned against a tree, snarling in my face, and I was swinging a branch like that'd do anything. Kaili showed up and split it in two like a dry twig—snap, blood everywhere, and me just standing there like, 'What happened?' She saved my skin, and since then, I leave that stuff to her. Why fight when she does it better than I ever could on my best day? Come on, a beer and we forget it—what do you say?"

The guild exploded in laughter, a deafening chorus ringing off the beams like a runaway drum, fingers pointing at Sebastián as taunts flew like arrows from all sides.

—"Let his woman fight for him!" shouted a man with a scar across his eye, raising his mug until beer splashed the floor.

—"What a disgrace for a man!" roared another, a burly guy with a braided beard, slamming the table with a fist that sent dice jumping.

—"A gardener! What's he gonna do, throw flowers at it and pray?" shrieked a red-haired woman, her shrill laugh slicing the air like a knife.

Kaili stepped forward, her armor creaking like thunder that echoed off the wooden floor, her silver eyes blazing with an icy fire that silenced some of the nearest, her presence crushing the air like the guild itself shrank before her.

—"My husband's a gardener, you idiots," she snapped, her voice slashing the noise like a cracking whip, each word laced with a contempt that chilled the blood. "He doesn't fight because he doesn't have to. I do it for him, and I'm more than any of you could handle."

The guild erupted again, laughter swelling like a hyena chorus, cries of "Coward!" and "Skinny!" bouncing off the walls like stones tossed into a pond. Cassian felt a stab of satisfaction seeing the gardener humiliated, but also a growing irritation sparking in his chest—this useless fool didn't just let a woman defend him; she did it with a ferocity that made him look even smaller.

—"So what, skinny?" Cassian said, his voice dripping contempt as he pointed at Sebastián with a trembling finger of mockery. "You let a woman fight for you like a kid hiding behind his mom? No guts to stand on your own?"

Sebastián raised his hands again, his smile shining like the taunts were a child's game, his warm eyes finding Kaili with a glint of pride that seemed to soften the chaos around him.

—"Hey, hey, don't laugh so hard," he said, his voice rising with a joking tone that disarmed effortlessly. "It's an honor to have a girl this beautiful fight for me. Embarrassed? Nah, I feel lucky. Who wouldn't want someone like her watching their back? I'm not dumb enough to say no."

The guild erupted once more, laughter mingling with shouts of "Coward!" and "Skinny!" flying from the tables as some adventurers leaned forward, tears of mirth streaking their dirty faces. Cassian felt a pang of satisfaction at the humiliation, but also a tightening irritation in his throat—this guy didn't just take the shame; he embraced it like a badge, and that hit harder than any direct insult.

—"So you don't fight?" Cassian said, his voice thick with scorn as he stepped closer, his shadow falling over Sebastián like a black cloud. "You let a woman defend you like a gutless kid? What kind of man are you?"

Kaili stepped between them, her armor creaking with a sound that rang like a challenge, her silver eyes flashing with an edge that made Cassian step back on instinct alone.

—"I won't let him be humiliated, human," she said, her voice low but sharp, each word dripping threat like distilled venom. "That's what I'm here for. If you won't fight him, you'll fight me. And you won't like losing sight of me."

Sebastián placed a hand on Kaili's shoulder, his touch light but firm, calloused fingers brushing her armor with a gentleness that clashed with the chaos around them, and spoke in a soft tone that cut the tension like a hot knife through butter.

—"Hey, Kaili, no need," he said, smiling as he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eyes that seemed to light her up from within. "I don't care what these guys say. I'm fine with you being my shield, princess. You always have been, and I like it that way."

She turned her head toward him, her eyes softening for a moment—a flash of something warm, almost happy, streaking by like lightning before her face hardened again with a disdain that couldn't fully hide a spark of satisfaction. For a second, her lips curved into a crooked smile, a glint of white teeth peeking out like she couldn't help it, and the guild seemed to fade around them, the noise dulling under the weight of that silent moment.

—"Shut up, gardener," she said, but her voice lost some of its edge, a softer tone slipping in like a whisper only he could catch. "I'm not letting this idiot stomp on you just 'cause you can't swing a sword. If anyone's humiliating you, it's me, not this caped braggart."

Cassian clenched his fists, heat rising in his face until his cheeks burned like embers, his pride wobbling like a sandcastle under a wave. This skinny guy hadn't just humiliated him with his calm; she—that woman who made him feel small with one look—defended him like he was a treasure, and worst of all: she didn't deny it. Wife? She didn't correct him, she accepted it in front of everyone, and that hit harder than any sword, a punch to the ego he couldn't dodge.

—"I'm not fighting a woman," he said, raising a hand with a firm motion, his voice cutting the air like a hammer on an anvil, though a tremor of doubt crept into the edge. "The challenge is for him, not you. I won't hurt you, my lady. If this gardener's a man, let him fight his own battles. I don't hit women, no matter how much you talk like you could cut me in half."

Kaili snorted, her cold smile returning like a bared blade glinting under the flickering light, her wings humming with a low buzz that vibrated the air like a silent challenge.

—"I accept, human," she said, her voice slashing the noise like a cracking whip, each word dripping a threat that chilled the blood. "I'll fight for him. If I beat you, you'll crawl like a cockroach before everyone, begging forgiveness for your insolence."

Sebastián sighed, scratching his neck as he looked at Kaili with a mix of resignation and fondness, his crooked smile shining like nothing could dim it, his warm eyes meeting hers with a glint that said more than his words could.

—"Well, if you insist, princess," he said, his voice soft but clear, cutting through the guild's noise like a whisper reaching an ear in a storm. "But don't say I didn't try reasoning first. I'm no good at running, let alone fighting, so if I'm betting, I'm betting on you."

The guild erupted in a deafening roar, laughter and shouts bouncing off the beams like a runaway drum, mugs raised as adventurers crowded around the board, some spilling beer in their rush to get closer, others yelling bets that flew like arrows—"Fifty says the woman flattens him!" "Twenty says the gardener wets himself!" Cassian felt the weight of her words like an anvil on his chest—he'd challenged the skinny guy, but now he faced her, and something in her gaze, that cold smile cutting like ice, told him this wouldn't end well for him. Rolk laughed like a madman, slamming the table until the mugs jumped, Tarin muttered nervously as his fingers drummed faster on his bow, and Gorran watched with a raised eyebrow that seemed to say "I told you so, dumbass" without twitching a muscle on his blank face.

—"So be it," Cassian thought, his pride blazing like a torch he couldn't extinguish, his fists clenching as he stared at Kaili and that gardener who'd humiliated him with a calm he couldn't fathom. "If this skinny guy and his woman want to take me down, let them try. I've faced worse than a woman in armor and a husband who can't fight. But that look… damn, this is gonna hurt."

The air thickened with tension, the duel hanging like a storm about to break, laughter and taunts echoing off the walls in an unrelenting roar. And in the background, amid the chaos and noise, Kaili looked at Sebastián with a glint in her eyes that wasn't just disdain—it was something more, a spark of pride and happiness that needed no words, a flicker saying that, for all her denials, she was comfortable, proud, with this gardener who claimed her before everyone without her needing to correct him, because deep down, she didn't want to.