Joe took a sip of water, hanging out on a seat in a park opposite the tavern. Damn but laying on the ocker aussie accent was useful, but it left you dry and parched.

He'd used it in his early days of business. Before people realised he was savvy. He'd used it to see how people treated you, how they reacted to someone who could be taken advantage of. It was also useful for defusing tension.

Plenty of tension in that room.

Those two were pretty serious. Good thing Flanno was a straight and narrow sort of mayor. Nothing to hide, no problem really.

He knew those two smelled of coffee, which meant one of two things. Either they were lying, or they called it something else here.

Just as Joe was getting comfortable, the crunching of gravel announced the arrival of two more figures. Greg, a massive man with a bushy beard and a gruff demeanour, and Charlotte, his daughter.

"You're in my spot," Greg grumbled, his thick brows furrowed in annoyance. His voice had a rough edge to it, like gravel under a heavy boot. He chewed a chicsum root and gestured at the spot Joe was occupying, his arms folded impressively over his broad chest.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at Greg's childish possessiveness over the seat, but said nothing. She merely crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes flicking to Joe with an unspoken question dancing in their depths. As for Joe, he just raised an eyebrow at Greg, took another sip of his water, and remained nonchalantly in 'Greg's spot'.

"Well, what brings you two out here this fine evening?" Joe asked, cocking his head slightly to one side as he eyed the unlikely pair. His eyes held a spark of curiosity as he studied them, a wry smile playing upon his lips.

"We're just out for a stroll," Charlotte responded quickly, her voice just a little too high pitched as she avoided Joe's gaze. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, her cheeks taking on a subtle pink hue.

Greg on the other hand, grunted dismissively, "Nonsense. The lass wanted to catch a glimpse of those cultivators." His voice was a low rumble, betraying no hint of amusement at Charlotte's expense, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Charlotte's eyes went wide as she shot an incredulous look at Greg. Her cheeks now flaming a deep red, she stammered, "Papa!" clearly mortified by Greg's blunt revelation. Joe merely chuckled, taking another sip of his water as he watched this entertaining scene unfold before him.

'Greggos, didn't know you had it in you.' Joe said.

Greg grunted. 'Still in my spot.'

Joe leaned back a bit, his gaze flicking to the tavern before landing back on Charlotte. His expression was thoughtful and his voice held a hint of caution as he leveled with her. "Don't reckon the young one's quite right for you, Charlotte," he said. "Got some mean vibes off him, not the sort you'd want around." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he casually gestured to the tavern with his water flask. "The older one, on the other hand, seemed quite the character." His voice took on a lighter tone as he continued, "He's got a certain charm, that one. Reminds me a bit of your old man."

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He gave Greg a knowing look, a hint of laughter lurking in his eyes. Greg harrumphed in response, but there was a grudging smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Charlotte, caught between indignation and amusement, could only shake her head at the pair of them.

"Cough, cough," Charlotte had to clear her throat to regain her composure, her cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. She managed to regain her voice, an eyebrow raised in curiosity as she turned her gaze back to Joe. "And just how old do you reckon he is, then?" she inquired, tilting her head slightly. Her tone oscillated between skepticism and amusement, her interest piqued by Joe's previous statement. The twinkle in her eyes revealed a spark of curiosity, the prospect of this mysterious cultivator intriguing her more than she cared to admit.

Joe shrugged, his gaze still on the tavern. "About late 40s, I'd say," he answered.

A flush crept up Charlotte's cheeks at his comment, her eyes wide as she processed his statement. "Joe, you absolute cad," she blurted out.

Joe merely shrugged again, a playful grin curling his lips as he continued his teasing analysis. "I mean, he could be younger. Hard to tell with the receding hair and pot belly," he remarked, his tone nonchalant. "Good talker, though," he added, giving the pair before him a knowing wink. The way he casually leaned back in 'Greg's spot' made it clear that he was enjoying this banter far more than he should.

"But you know," Joe continued, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "there's a peculiar aroma around those two cultivators. An aroma that strangely reminds me of home." He closed his eyes, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "It's like... you know, a mixture of burnt nuts and... and..." He struggled to find the right words, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Berry fruitiness?" he finally ventured, opening his eyes to find Greg and Charlotte staring at him incredulously.

"Berry fruitiness?" Charlotte echoed, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Seriously, Joe? You're saying these cultivators smell like... nutty berry juice?" She stifled a giggle, biting her lower lip.

Greg, however, just shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. "Magical bean juice, Joe?" he ribbed. "You've been out in the sun too long." His gruff laughter echoed around them, joining Charlotte's giggles.

Joe merely grumbled, adjusting his hat to shield his eyes from the setting sun. "You guys can laugh all you want. But mark my words," he said, pointing his water flask at them for emphasis, "that aroma... It's something special. And it's tied to those cultivators." His eyes twinkled with certainty, and despite their banter, Greg and Charlotte found themselves unable to entirely dismiss his words.

Greg, who had up until now been a source of amusement, suddenly turned serious. His laughter faded into the night, replaced by an intensity that wasn't often seen. "Listen here, Joe," he began, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo around them. His gaze fell on Joe, sharp and unyielding. "The ways of the royals, their cultivation methods... they're a closely guarded secret, not something to be trifled with." He paused for a moment, his broad chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. "I don't care what kind of trouble you get yourself into, but keep my daughter out of it." The protective undertone in his voice was unmistakable, his warning delivered with a stern look that left no room for argument. As the silence stretched, the previous mirth seemed to have been swallowed by the night, replaced by a tension that hung heavy in the air.

With one last chuckle, Joe downed the rest of his water and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, it's been a pleasure as always," he said, 'I've got a goat to see about a man.'