Unsettling Company

The silence that followed Seraph's statement hung heavy in the air, thicker than the scent of woodsmoke and ale that usually permeated Morris's tavern. Morris's grip on the cleaver beneath the counter remained firm, his blue eyes locked in a silent battle of wills with the stranger's unsettling crimson gaze. What kind of traveler carries himself like that? And those eyes… unnatural. Adrian stood slightly behind his uncle, his silver eyes darting between the two men, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest. He seems tired… but there's something else there too.

"Pay?" Morris finally echoed, his voice low and wary. He thinks he can buy his way in? This isn't about coin. "This isn't some roadside inn that caters to every passing vagrant."

Seraph chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "Of course not. A reputable establishment such as this deserves proper compensation for its hospitality, even at such a late hour." He reached inside his cloak, his movements slow and deliberate, and produced a small, intricately carved wooden box. The wood was dark, almost black, and seemed to absorb the meager light. That box… it feels cold, somehow, Adrian thought, a shiver tracing its way down his spine.

He placed the box on the edge of the counter, its weight making a soft thud on the worn wood. "Consider this a… gesture of goodwill."

Morris's eyes flickered down to the box, his suspicion deepening. Too fancy. Too convenient. "What's inside?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Curiosity killed the cat, as they say," Seraph replied, his red eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "But in this case, perhaps it will merely grant you a warm bed for the night."

Adrian's curiosity piqued. He took a hesitant step closer, his silver eyes drawn to the dark wood of the box. It's beautiful… and strange. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hum emanating from it, a subtle vibration that he could almost feel in the air.

Morris, however, remained unmoved by the offered trinket. He thinks a pretty box will sway me? He's wrong. "I don't need your charity, stranger. I asked who you are and why you're here, knowing my name."

Seraph sighed dramatically, running a hand through his shiny brown hair. "As I said, Seraph Hanveil, a wandering swordsman. As for knowing your name… Zilaz isn't the largest of towns, and a well-kept tavern such as yours tends to be… well-known." His gaze flickered towards Adrian again, a knowing glint in his red eyes.

Morris remained unconvinced. What's he playing at?

"Nothing untoward, I assure you," Seraph said smoothly, his smile widening slightly. "Just that in a world such as ours, connections can sometimes be… felt." He tapped the wooden box lightly with a gloved finger. "Perhaps this will help you feel a bit more… connected to the idea of offering a weary traveler shelter."

Morris hesitated, his gaze shifting between the enigmatic box and Seraph's unsettling red eyes. The weariness of the day battled with a rising sense of unease. Just one night… but I'm not touching that thing until I know what it is. He glanced at Adrian, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and a touch of concern. Uncle looks worried, Adrian noted, his young brow furrowing slightly.

Finally, with a heavy sigh that spoke of reluctant compromise, Morris nodded slowly. "One night. Food and shelter for one night only. And in the morning, you and your… gestures of goodwill will be on your way." He pointedly did not reach for the box, keeping his hands near the counter. He can keep his trinket for now.

"An agreeable arrangement," Seraph said, his smile finally reaching his intense red eyes. He stepped fully into the tavern, the shadows of his cloak momentarily engulfing him before he moved with a quiet grace towards a corner table. Finally inside, Seraph thought, a subtle satisfaction flickering within him. The boy's eyes… they are even more striking up close. "Perhaps that stew the locals spoke of isn't entirely out of the question after all?"

Adrian let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Maybe everything will be alright. He glanced at his uncle, who still wore a guarded expression.

Morris watched Seraph settle into the corner, his blue eyes never leaving the stranger's movements. I don't trust him. Not one bit. He then turned to Adrian, his voice low. "Keep your distance from him, lad. There's something… not right about that one."

Adrian nodded silently, his silver eyes flicking towards Seraph, a sense of curiosity and a touch of something else, something he couldn't quite name, lingering in his gaze. What is it about him? The night had brought an unexpected guest, and the quiet rhythm of life in Morris's tavern had been irrevocably disrupted. The air, still thick with unspoken questions, held a silent promise of a night far from ordinary.

Morris disappeared into the kitchen, the familiar clatter of pots and pans a temporary distraction. Adrian, ever helpful, brought Seraph a steaming mug of hot water.

"What's your name, lad?" Seraph asked, taking a slow sip from the mug, his red eyes studying Adrian with a curious intensity.

"Adrian," the boy replied simply.

"Just Adrian?" Seraph's gaze seemed to pierce through Adrian's calm exterior. "No family name? Perhaps… perhaps your father's name was Morris?"

Adrian shook his head, his silver eyes flickering with a fleeting uncertainty. "It's just Adrian. And Morris is my uncle."

A subtle twitch played at the corners of Seraph's mouth, a hint of something unreadable, but he simply nodded and continued to drink his water in silence. The quiet that followed felt thick with unspoken questions and a lingering sense of the unknown.

"Don't you… don't you know who your parents are, Adrian?" Seraph asked, his red eyes reflecting the flickering lantern light, their gaze surprisingly gentle.

Adrian's calm demeanor didn't waver. He continued to wipe down the already clean counter. "I don't know, and Uncle Morris hasn't ever spoken of them to me." He carefully straightened the mismatched cups on a nearby shelf. "I'm not particularly interested in knowing about them either. I don't hate them or anything, but Uncle Morris has already given me the best love and care anyone could ask for."

A thoughtful expression, a flicker of something akin to understanding, crossed Seraph's sharp features. "I see…" he murmured, his gaze softening slightly as he looked towards the kitchen where Morris was working. "…so he's not as cold as he seems after all."

A small, genuine laugh escaped Adrian's lips, a light and innocent sound. "No, he isn't. He's just… quite strict with strangers."

Morris emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming bowl and several perfectly shaped rice balls. His blue eyes flicked towards Seraph before settling on Adrian. "Adrian, go on inside. We'll be sleeping in the tavern tonight, since we have a guest." His tone was firm, brooking no argument.

He set the simple but appetizing meal – boiled milky mushroom stew and rice balls – in front of Seraph. "It's all I could manage on short notice. We don't have much left."

Seraph's smile widened, genuine warmth radiating from his tanned face as he looked at the food. "It's more than enough for me. Thank you." He gestured to the empty chair across from him with a slight nod of his head. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I have a feeling you have a few questions you'd like to ask me."

Morris's blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at the stranger's uncanny ability to read his thoughts. He settled heavily into the creaking wooden chair, his gaze fixed on Seraph.

"I'm not the only one with questions," Morris said carefully, his voice low and steady. "I reckon you have a few of your own."

Seraph's red eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement – or perhaps something far deeper and more knowing. "You'd be right about that." He lifted the wooden spoon, steam curling upwards from the fragrant stew. "Then by all means, please… start first!"

  To be continued...