Keziah opened the door to his room and saw Annette sitting on her bed, evidently waiting for him, as he judged from her posture. She made no indication of wanting to initiate the conversation she must have been dreading, so he handed her the mug of water and told her to drink it. He then sat on his own bed, thinking of what would be the best course of action. He considered being stern and forbidding her to drink alcohol altogether, but that would probably have the opposite effect. It wasn't like she couldn't stop herself from the booze. As far as he could gather, she just had one mug and must have been feeling bad about it already. Adding additional punishments would be fruitless. He just had to make sure she understands the dangers of uncontrollable thirst for the dazing liquor.

"So, is everything alright?" he asked after she finished her gulp.

"Promise you won't be mad?" she asked first.

Does she think that I didn't notice her drinking? Keziah thought to himself, confused. "Sure."

"I took the coin from your pouch to buy a pin—"

"You WHAT!?" shouted Keziah, expecting a different answer.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have drank, but I was bored and ale is usually cleaner than water and —"

"No, not this. You used my money?" Keziah asked, still in a little shock.

"Yeah. I didn't have any of my own, so…" she started explaining before another thought struck her. "Wait, that's what you are mad about? The money? Not that a fourteen-year-old drank ale alone in a tavern?"

"Ye — I mean, of course not. Who would value some bronze and silver pieces over the health and well-being of their student?" he quickly corrected himself. "It's not like I worked for a year to earn it…" he mumbled to himself.

"Right…" she clearly didn't believe him.

"Ekhem," he coughed to change the topic. "How about you start again? You sto — borrowed my money and bought yourself a pint. What then?"

"Well… nothing much except that, to be honest. I just watched the bard and drank the ale, as I said. You told me not to leave the inn, so I didn't. It was just… You weren't coming back for so long that I got worried. Then I felt guilty about drinking and got more worried. I got up to retire to our room and then that commotion happened and you came back."

Keziah studied her for a moment. "Haha, as long as you know that drinking could be bad then there is nothing wrong, I guess," he concluded. "There I was, thinking of all the words that would make you understand this…" he said under his nose.

"Just like that?"

"What do you mean?" Keziah asked, confused.

"No punishment or anything?"

"Oh, now that you mention it, I could make you do more jumping jacks the next training day…" he mused aloud.

Annette looked at him, not completely believing him. She almost waited for him to say that he was joking and make up elaborate punishment for her. That was what usually happened with all her previous guardians for misbehaving.

"If you want to drink, then you might have to wait a few years more, though," Keziah added to his 'punishment'. "Your body can't handle it yet and it might be damaging to your training. If there is no good water, then only drink in my presence so that I will make sure you don't go overboard."

She nodded eagerly, almost welcoming some restrictions.

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"Well then, we both had enough happenings for one day, it seems. Time to go to bed. Goodnight," Keziah announced, took off his coat, boots, and vest, and lay in his bed.

"...Night."

----------------------------------------

Keziah couldn't fall asleep. He was tired, having spent most of the day doing something, but sleep yet eluded him. He had already taken a nap on the way here and the hour wasn't so late to warrant dozing off so soon. The bed was also much softer than what he was used to. His apartment in Avinea was severely lacking in many aspects, bed included. The mattress there was extremely rough. He liked it, though. It was closer to the hard ground on which he spent so many nights as a teen. He hated every second of it then, but now he was already used to it, whether he liked it or not.

He heard light snoring from his left, indicating that Annette must have already fallen asleep. The alcohol probably helped with that. Sometimes he wished that he had the low tolerance of alcohol of mages without fully developed channels or the common people without channels at all. It wasn't like he couldn't get drunk. He certainly could. It was tested many times in the past and he was the main subject, researcher, and client who ordered it done. Still, it took longer, and he had to pay much more to get himself tipsy.

Just when he was finally about to cross into the realm of dreams, he heard some noises in the alley beneath their window. At first, he just cursed them, wishing them to go away to let him get some shut-eye. When the noises turned into shouts and mocking laughs, that almost made him care. It still wasn't enough for Keziah to check it out. Sleep so far triumphed over curiosity.

What made him move out of his bed was the voices themselves once they got closer. He realized he recognized them, and he would really prefer not to. They were the sailors that harassed those elves. He wasn't quite sure why he even intervened in the first place then. It's not like he was a massive supporter of letting all kinds of elves — except centaurs. They would rather remain isolated and completely autonomous — be of equal standing to humans. He believed it the way it should be. Fighting with his life for it like many factions all over the four kingdoms and beyond was a different question, and he valued his own life over whatever ideals he might currently have.

Maybe what made him "protect" those elves was the thought of giving an example to Annette. The subconscious urge to be a better version of himself might have been enough to push him to stick his nose into other people's business. Annie was also much more "noble" than he was, citing trying to help people as one of her goals in becoming an adventurer. It might have been naïve and born of childlike preconceptions, but it was still what she believed right now. It could change in the future, but for now, he might be forced to committing more selfless acts of kindness in the future, whenever the situation permits.

Fueled by a faint sense of responsibility, he pushed himself out of bed and gently opened the window, to not make it creak. Down on the small space between the buildings that served as an alley of sorts, he spotted 6 figures in the dark. No lamps reached this deep, only a few rays from the candles and small lamps inside the tavern could illuminate the passageway, breaking through the glass of the windows of the inn. He couldn't see exactly who the men were, but he could make an educated guess based on their voices, silhouettes, and number.

They were the sailors he lied to earlier that evening. They must have come back after realizing that there was no fighting between the crews. Embarrassed, they would seek to regain their "honor" by punishing the one who set them up, which in this case would be Keziah. Not finding him in the tavern, they probably changed their target and picked a random inn-goer and decided to make an example of him instead. Predictable as they were, Keziah was not used to dealing with the consequences of his actions so soon, so he kinda forgot of the possibility of it happening.

He resumed observing for now. They weren't getting physical yet, so he studied them for potential weakness and he thought about his course of action. They had no visible weapons, but he wouldn't rule out some knives or shivs hidden somewhere on them. Sailors tended to be more experienced in brawling, as the entertainment on the sea was sparse and the need to blow off some steam was always high. They usually triumphed over regular, ordinary workers, farmers, or miners. Some lower-end adventurers also would fall to an angry sailor. This was their biggest strength, but it also often proved to be their downfall.

Their vast experience with fighting caused them to be overconfident, rarely taking on an opponent clearly stronger than them. Keziah often saw a group of sailors getting rowdy and picking on the wrong target just based on their looks. What they never got was that the most ordinary-looking travelers could prove to be the most dangerous ones.

In the middle of his analysis, Keziah realized that he recognized the sixth member of this merry group; his eyes were now used to the dark somewhat. It was the bard that was playing in the tavern. His blond hair was easily recognizable in the darkness. They must have picked him because beating on a young, handsome man would boost their ego further than bringing down an old farmer.

The moment he recognized the man was also the moment that the fists finally came swinging. The big man — seemingly the leader of the small group — was the one to take the first swing. He aimed for the bard's abdomen first, apparently not wanting him to pass out early by hitting him on the head. Just as the fist was about to land, a streak of blood stained the ground in a movement so quick and Keziah, being unprepared for it, it caught him off guard.