The somber mood of the late evening stroll back to the tavern was calming, Ryan's steps as measured and cautious as possible. A subconscious part of him wanted to avoid tripping over the uneven cobblestones.

Ryan's mind was far away in his memories, a blissful smile on his face as he approached the tavern. The sounds of jeers and cheers distorted the evening calm. No doubt the patrons were drinking themselves to stupor, fighting, or having heated arguments.

As soon as Ryan passed through the open doors of the tavern, all three events were unfolding before his eyes. Sad adventurers who had lost comrades sulked in corners, some trying to show superiority in terms of strength, and others in heated arguments that would most likely end up in fights.

Ryan had seen it happen often, and at this point, he didn't really care much about the behaviors exhibited. The tavern had always been a place for all—both adventurers and statics—to release their stress from the day. A place to goof around and experience camaraderie, to beat or get beaten, to get drunk to the point you couldn't even remember why you'd come in the first place.

There wasn't anything that Ryan hadn't seen at the tavern, and there were a lot of things that Ryan wished he'd never seen. There were also some sights he thought he'd never see again—such as the visage of his long-lost friend, Leo, back in the tavern that they'd once called home.

Ryan strolled towards the big man who was hunched over, seemingly taking a few sips of ale—as that was the only drink Carl served—his face scrunching up at the taste, which Ryan found laughable. The ale definitely had a terrible taste, but Carl was proud of it as it was a family recipe.

Most patrons couldn't bring themselves to tell the big man that the drink he was so proud of tasted like rat's piss. Of course, some thought to complain since they paid for the ale—a terrible, terrible move, as it wasn't advisable to offend someone who handled your food or drinks. A mistake that those who complained had to learn the hard way.

"Leo, what brings you back to the slums?" Ryan said as he finally got to the table where Leo sat.

"Why, if not to see you, my friend?" Leo said, his face still scrunched as though he'd just swallowed something bitter—something that Ryan could personally attest to.

Waving to Carl to bring him some drinks, he allowed himself to relax after a long day.

"You've always been good with words, Leo," Ryan said with a chuckle.

"What can I say? It helps with getting the ladies too," Leo said.

Ryan almost mentioned that it definitely didn't help with Maria but knew there were some things that just needed to remain buried.

"I'm sure it does," Ryan said instead.

An awkward silence stretched between them as the sounds from the other patrons in the tavern filled the atmosphere. Leo sighed and began slowly nursing his ale, trying and failing not to flinch with each sip.

Ryan could understand the man's plight; it'd be difficult for anyone to pivot from the sweet mead of the Siren's Call to whatever Carl cooked up and labeled ale. Certainly a difficult task for anyone, but Leo wasn't just anyone—he had basically started his adult life alongside Ryan in this very tavern.

A gentle thud on the table made Ryan realize that his tankard had been served, and the retreating form of Carl was all he needed to know about who dropped it off. It wasn't like Carl worked with any other static anyway; he ran the entire tavern himself, a feat which Ryan found highly commendable.

With a sigh, Ryan took a swig from his tankard, careful not to really taste the liquid, rather allowing it to roll down his throat. Something that was impossible as he scrunched up his face at the taste.

"The ale has definitely gotten worse over the years," Leo said in response to the look on Ryan's face.

"It certainly has," Ryan said, agreeing with the sentiment.

"Want to tell him that?" Leo said, looking towards Carl's direction.

"Nope, but you're free to," Ryan said as he eyed the big man.

A chuckle escaped Leo's lips.

"Bollocks, still afraid of the man?" Leo asked.

"Would be a fool not to. You never mess with people who handle your food—always keep that in mind," Ryan said as he took another swig. "Besides, it isn't that bad."

"Are we drinking the same ale, or have my taste buds gone bad?" Leo asked.

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"Or maybe you've gotten too used to the good stuff," Ryan said bitterly, and this time it wasn't because of the ale.

Leo's face fell as his eyes now held guilt in them, the former silence returning and enveloping their table, their easy-flowing conversation from the previous day proving not to be the same today.

Ryan could hardly care as the feeling had been boiling up since he'd seen his friend. He'd tried to push it down but had ultimately failed.

Taking another swig of Carl's family's concoction of an ale recipe, he decided to savor the taste—if you could savor something like that. He let the liquid roll around in his mouth before swallowing, doing that as punishment to himself for hating on his friend.

"You know it wasn't all green on the other side," Leo said, finally speaking up.

"I know. It must've been scary for you?" Ryan asked with a sigh.

"It was. I was terrified and scared," Leo sighed. "Some of those who started the journey with us didn't make it to Wergon."

Ryan's face nearly blanched at the words, color draining from his face.

"That dangerous, huh?" Ryan said, staring intently at Leo as he asked the question, the big man struggling to control his emotions.

It was as though the big man was about to burst into tears, and Ryan honestly didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Ryan said.

Leo took a deep breath and raised the tankard to his mouth, emptying it in one swift gulp. His left eye twitched, but Leo succeeded in keeping it down.

"No, let's talk about it," Leo said. "I haven't told many people about what happened on the road, but I might've signed up for more than what I can handle."

"What does that mean?" Ryan asked, perplexed.

"The adventurers were on their way to deliver some... valuables to a buyer," Leo said.

"So? That happens all the time," Ryan said, not getting the hesitation.

"The valuables were legendary items, Ryan. Legendary grade items," Leo said.

Ryan let out a gasp. How did they even get their hands on legendary grade items?

"What would adventurers with that kind of gear be doing in the Messy Inn?" Ryan asked.

"Look at the place, Ryan. It's filled with underachievers—no offense. It's the last place that anyone would look for items of that status," Leo said.

Even with the "no offense" tag attached to the statement, Ryan was still stung by the words. Of course, he was a little offended by the statement, but what could he really do? He really was an underachiever at this point, but he was getting distracted from the current matter at hand.

"So they had valuable gear on them," Ryan said.

"Yes, and apparently, the information leaked before they left town," Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. "We were ambushed; it was a one-sided affair. We managed to get away but at significant costs."

"But you did get away, relatively unharmed, right?" Ryan asked.

"I did. I don't know how, but I did. I still can't believe that I survived with all limbs intact and only little bits of superficial cuts here and there," Leo responded.

Ryan rubbed the stubble on his chin; it wasn't making any sense to him. Was it one of those things that Leo couldn't talk about, and he was trying his best not to run afoul of the situation?

He didn't understand why or how Leo could be unharmed in what he just called one-sided. In all the fights that Ryan was fortunate or unfortunate to witness, they usually went all out against everyone—no one had the time to stop and find out who was a static and who wasn't.

Everybody usually wanted to get everybody on the other side, irrespective of who was who. When they were done, they could try to identify who was who.

"So, you survived. Then what?" Ryan asked.

"We ran. We were injured and lacking members. They'd lost a couple of items too, and it honestly wasn't great to be amongst the lot," Leo said.

Ryan almost let out a snort. Of course nobody would be fun to be around at a time like that, especially when there wasn't any tavern in the middle of nowhere. He was sure that their party's morale and mood would've been terrible.

"That's quite unfortunate."

"It was a terrible sight to behold. I don't think I'll ever forget it," Leo said, rubbing his hands together.

"So what happened when you got to the city?"

"They did their thing, I did mine, and now I'm back in town."

"Come on, Leo. You know what I meant by that question."

"I can't tell you. I said so before," Leo said sadly.

Veron's clangers, what was up with Leo and this much secrecy?

"Leo, you can trust me."

"I know I can, but I can't share this even if I wanted to," Leo said.

He couldn't believe that Leo still didn't trust him or didn't want to.

"A merry-go-round, isn't it? We still can't talk about whatever that is. Fine. What can you tell me?"

"Listen very carefully, Ryan. Watch your back. Denair is changing, and I don't know if it's in a good way," Leo said.

"What does that even mean, 'in a good way'?" Ryan asked, perplexed.

"I can't tell you. I think it'd be best if I go," Leo said as he stood up.

"Wait..." Ryan began to say.

Leo had already turned and begun to walk away, dropping a gold coin on the table on his way out. The big man had done nothing but left him with more questions than answers.

Ryan was more concerned about the way Leo spoke throughout their interaction; he had maintained a somber mood. It was definitely a different vibe from what they had yesterday. The childish smiles had disappeared, and they were now having grown-up conversations. Unpleasant business, that.

He could count on the fingers of one hand how many times the young Leo had withheld things from him. He couldn't fault the logic though—people changed over time. It wasn't safe to share all your secrets with an old friend, no matter how strong a bond you'd once shared with them.

A lesson he was currently learning, without fail. He wouldn't fall for the same play again. He'd keep his cards closer to his chest the next time.

Smiling at his stupidity on how he'd managed to share everything in his life at the drop of a hat while his friend could keep his closer to heart with ease. Experience, they say, is the best teacher, and he'd just had his first lesson.

Signaling for Carl to bring him another tankard, he began to stare at the gold on the table, the emperor's face etched on the side facing him. He knew it'd be the same on the other side though; he'd handled enough gold within the past week to know that by heart.

He chuckled at the absurdity. If anyone would've told the Ryan of a month ago that he'd be familiar with gold, he probably wouldn't have believed them.

His tankard was swapped, and so were Ryan's thoughts. With nothing else to do for the night, he decided to indulge himself.