I approached the counter, relieved to see that the long line that had clogged the guild hall earlier had finally vanished. The same bespectacled clerk I’d spoken with before was there with her oversized glasses magnifying sharp, intelligent eyes. She looked up and smiled when she spotted the badges on all our chests. “Congratulations to you all for passing the assessment,” she said in a squeaky yet pleasant voice. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “We were told the guild offers housing during the tournament,” I asked. “Is that accurate? And if so, what’s the cost?”

  The clerk, Clare, a Level 25 Analyst, paused thoughtfully before answering. “Most rooms are reserved years in advance for the tournament. I do have a few available, but they’re shared quarters with adventurers from the guild. Four to a room. The price is either one hundred merit per week or one thousand credits per week for non-members.”

  Behind me, Jase clicked his tongue in annoyance. I must have looked puzzled, because Clare quickly elaborated. “The Adventurers’ Guild sponsors and mediates the tournament, but not all participants are guild members. Non-members pay more. Those funds go toward leveling and equipping guild members, as well as maintaining the grounds.”

  “Where do most participants stay?” I asked.

  “Usually at inns or with local sects near the training grounds,” she explained. “Inns accept system credits directly, so many combatants prefer them, especially those saving merit for other expenses.”

  “I see,” I said, nodding.

  Sharing a room with three others didn’t bother me, but my gaze drifted to the ring on my finger. Night training with Master Matt, Lawson’s unpredictable visits… privacy mattered. Balt had more than enough credits to cover an inn, and that option seemed more practical. Heck, we were heading to an inn now, so I would ask Chu his advice when I got there.

  After weighing it all, I thanked Clare and told her we’d decide after giving it more thought.

  Balt led the way as we stepped out of the guildhall, his Pathfinder instincts guiding him with quiet certainty. Chu had brought us here earlier, and though I thought I could retrace the route, there was no reason to gamble when Balt could feel the right path as naturally as breathing.

  That left me free simply to walk and take in the city. We passed through the inner ring and into the broader sprawl beyond, where the pace of life shifted from, government and guild halls to the hum of commerce and daily routine.

  The air was startlingly clean, carrying with it the sharp bite of spices and the faint sweetness of baked goods. Vendor stalls lined the streets in neat rows, their awnings bright with color, their signs painted with crisp lettering advertising deals of the day.

  The craftsmanship impressed me, each stall built with care, polished wood and iron fittings that spoke of pride as much as practicality. Behind them, taller buildings rose in tiers, their stonework etched with guild crests or sect symbols, balconies draped with banners that fluttered in the breeze. The city felt alive, layered with history and ambition.

  I was scanning the stalls when something caught my eye, something so familiar it pulled me forward before I realized I’d broken from Balt’s side. A vendor’s table showed off familiar bright orange fruits, their round shapes unmistakable. Pumpkins. Or at least, something close.

  The sign above them read: Sun-Gourd Fruit. Three for ten credits.

  I smiled at the vendor and asked if he offered samples. His anchor flashed, and a small plate materialized, neatly arranged with slices of the orange flesh. I picked one up and bit into it. The taste wasn’t quite pumpkin, sweeter, softer, almost melting on my tongue but close enough to stir my tastebuds memories. I went ahead and bought six.

  We resumed walking, the bustle of the marketplace fading as the streets widened toward a different quarter of the city. Jase’s voice broke the silence. “What was that about, Riven?”

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  “Oh,” I said, still savoring the lingering sweetness. “Where I’m from, we have some fruit almost identical to this. My sister and I used to get a drink made partially from it; it was both our favorites. I’d like to surprise her when I see her again.”

  Jase fell silent at that. For all his cocky bravado, he was an Outlier too. I suspected he carried his own ghosts, a family left behind, bonds severed by the path forced upon us.

  The streets grew busier as we pressed on. Lanterns hung from iron posts; their glass panes etched with dragon motifs. Inns and taverns rose on either side, their timber frames reinforced with stone, windows glowing with warm light. The scent of spiced ale drifted from open doors, mingling with laughter and the clatter of mugs.

  As we turned the final corner, the noise of the street softened. Looming ahead was a large building, its sign carved into a massive wooden beam and painted with a dragon mid-roar, our destination: The Hungry Dragon.

  We stepped through the carved double doors of the Hungry Dragon, and the warmth hit me immediately. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and ale, just as Chu had promised. It wasn’t overwhelming, but more like a welcoming embrace, the kind of aroma that made you feel at home before you’d even sat down.

  The interior was well-kept, with polished wood floors, a beautiful bar area with a mosaic of a dragon holding an ale mug. A large fireplace in the rear of the inn made the place feel warm and inviting. Overhead, dragon motifs curled along the beams, their crimson and gold paint catching the light.

  Tables sat arranged in tidy rows, each one waiting with clean plates and sturdy mugs. The place had the feeling of someone who took pride in their business; it was disciplined, orderly, but still inviting.

  I noticed right away that it wasn’t nearly as crowded as the other inns we’d passed on the way here. Only a handful of patrons sat scattered across the room: a pair of armored adventurers hunched over a steaming pot, a robed scholar scribbling notes between sips of tea, and a small group of locals laughing quietly in the corner.

  As we moved further in, a woman approached us. She was, for lack of a better term, striking. She had her long dark hair pinned with a jade clasp, her robes flowing in shades of pale maroon and silver that shimmered under the lanterns. Her beauty wasn’t loud or ostentatious, but refined, the kind that drew the eye without demanding it.

  She gave a small bow, her gaze flicking to the badges on our chests. For a moment, I caught the look in her eyes: apprehension, tempered by something else, maybe relief. “Welcome,” she said softly, her voice carrying the calm cadence of someone trained in etiquette. “I am Mei, the owner of this establishment. It is an honor to host Anchor tournament members within these walls.”

  Her words were polite, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed more than courtesy. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking to make her both worry and be happy by our presence.

  I gave the woman a polite nod and spoke first. “I’m Riven. This is Jase, and that’s Balt. We’re friends of Chu’s; we came here to celebrate with him.”

  At that, her shoulders eased, the formality in her posture softening as though my words had lifted a weight.

  “Oh… Riven and Balt,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I’ve been told about you by Wren.” She dipped into a short bow, her jade clasp glinting in the lantern light. “Thank you for helping to save Ling. It means more than I can say.”

  I brushed it off with a small smile. “I was happy to help.”

  Balt chuckled, breaking the moment. “Well, I was happy to help too, especially when I found out Chu’s sister owned a wonderful inn. I’m thirsty enough to wrestle a dragon for a mug.”

  That earned a faint laugh from her, the tension fading further. “Then come,” Mei said, gesturing toward a long table near the back wall. “I’ll have some drinks brought out for you.”

  We followed her across the polished wood floor, the quiet murmur of the few patrons around us blending with the scent of spice and roasted meat.

  Not long after we settled in, Chu’s family came down from the upper floor. Wren led the way, her grin wide, followed by Ling and Jen. Platters of food and pitchers of drink appeared as Mei and her staff moved with practiced grace, setting the long table until it was heavy with roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and steaming bowls of broth.

  The boys wasted no time peppering Chu and his kin with questions about their fights, their voices overlapping in excitement. I leaned toward Ling, catching his eye. “You should’ve seen your dad,” I told him with a grin. “He kicked that guy so hard I thought his opponent’s armor was made of paper for all the good it did him.”

  Chu gave me a smile at that, quiet, proud, the kind of smile that said more than words ever could.

  Around us, the inn came alive. Mei and her staff moved between tables, serving patrons with efficiency and warmth. Outside, the sky darkened, and lanterns were lit one by one, their glow casting golden light across polished wood and dragon-carved beams. The Hungry Dragon swelled with sound, laughter, clinking mugs, the hum of voices rising in celebration.

  Balt raised his empty mug and called out, “Refill, please! I’m not done celebrating yet.”

  But just as Mei turned to answer, the noise died. Conversation dimmed around them, not suddenly, but in a slow ripple, first one table, then the next, until half the tavern had gone quiet without realizing it.

  The huge front doors to the inn swung open, and an imperious-looking man strode in, flanked by twenty purple robed figures and… standing behind the man in the lead was that buffoon Jox, giving me a toothy grin.

  The man’s voice boomed across the room, sharp and commanding. “Where is that bastard, Chu? And the man called Riven?

  The Warlord turned to Mei then, "answer me, wench, before I burn this place to the ground. Where is that brother of yours? Warlord Ryn Don has come to reclaim his honor this night!”

  I exhaled slowly and stood, my thoughts sour. Oh great. A warlord who talks about himself in the third person. And here I was just starting to unwind.