Fandral Empire.

Nestled within the rustic charm of the Agryb Province, stood the venerable Flying Calf Tavern. Its weathered wooden sign swung gently in the breeze, creaking like an old bard's song. The tavern, though humble in appearance, was a bustling hub for locals and travelers alike.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasting meats and the warm, comforting aroma of ale. Wooden tables, worn by years of laughter and merriment, were scattered across the dimly lit room. Patrons, clad in simple tunics and leather boots, exchanged stories and laughter over hearty meals, their voices blending with the lively melodies played by a minstrel in the corner.

The barkeep, a stout man with a bushy beard, skillfully filled tankards with the finest ale from wooden barrels stacked against the rough-hewn walls. The Flying Calf had earned a reputation for its generous portions and genuine hospitality, making it a favored stop for weary travelers seeking respite from their journeys.

The tavern's name was a nod to a legendary tale that had been passed down through generations. As the story went, a mythical flying calf once soared across the Agryb skies, bringing prosperity to those who spotted it. The tavern's owners, inspired by the tale, had chosen the name to signify good fortune and warmth within its walls.

Amidst the patrons, knights shared tables with peasants, creating a rare scenery that transcended social hierarchies.

Disguised in a cloak that concealed her noble lineage, Renna Dantwuch, the younger sister of the famed Sword Saint, ventured into the lively embrace of the Flying Calf Tavern. Despite her attempts to blend in, her fair and beautiful features, framed by cascading black hair, drew admiring glances from the curious tavern-goers.

Renna found a quiet corner where she could observe without being the center of attention. Her adventurous spirit and insatiable curiosity led her to the humble tavern, seeking tales that whispered of realms beyond her noble upbringing. She yearned for stories that resonated with the daring feats her brother often regaled her with.

Carefully avoiding the watchful eyes of her loyal servants, Renna reveled in the anonymity the tavern provided. She inwardly chuckled thinking to herself how daring she had become.

In the heart of the bustling Flying Calf Tavern, a hush fell over the patrons as a woman stepped onto a small podium at the center of the room. With a confident smile, she introduced herself as Lata, a bard with an insatiable thirst for tales from every corner of the world. Though she carried no instruments, her well-spoken words hinted at a wealth of stories waiting to be shared.

"Good eve, kindred spirits of the Flying Calf! I am Lata, a wanderer in search of the most enchanting tales our vast world has to offer," she proclaimed, her voice carrying a melodic cadence that immediately captured the attention of the gathered crowd.

Seated on her shoulder, a captivating avian companion with rainbow-feathered plumage preened itself. Lata gestured toward the bird with a flourish. "And this lively feathered companion is Chirp. He's not just a winged marvel; he's my devoted confidant on this grand journey."

A murmur of admiration swept through the tavern as eyes were drawn to the mesmerizing bird. Lata continued, "Chirp and I have traversed mountains and crossed rivers, seeking the tales that weave the fabric of our world. Tonight, in the heart of Agryb Province, we find ourselves in your esteemed company."

A grizzled man at a nearby table, tankard in hand, called out, "Tell us a tale, Lata! A tale to rival the legends of old!"

Lata chuckled, the twinkle in her eye matching the vivid hues of Chirp's feathers. "Ah, my friend, fear not, for I bring you a tale of love and valor, a tale that echoes through the annals of time."

"A love for gold, and a vile valor for blood," She teasingly added, a vision of boundless energy and amiable charm. Her demeanor exuded an adorable enthusiasm that resonated with the patrons. With a cascade of brown hair framing her expressive face, Lata's eyes sparkled with the promise of enthralling tales.

Lata's melodious voice resonated through the tavern as she began her tale of the Enderman, a notorious and enigmatic mercenary whose reputation was as dark as the shadows he lurked in.

"In a realm where gold flowed like rivers, there existed a man draped in the shroud of greed. They called him the Enderman," Lata proclaimed, her eyes gleaming with the mischief of storytelling.

A hush fell over the crowd, the crackling hearth the only audible companion to Lata's words. The avian Chirp on her shoulder seemed to sense the gravity of the tale, its rainbow feathers shimmering with anticipation.

"As petty as a thieving magpie and as greedy as a dragon guarding its hoard, the Enderman's heart beats to the rhythm of coin," Lata continued, her voice weaving the narrative like a master bard.

A curious onlooker, an older woman with weathered hands, chimed in, "How did he earn such a fearsome reputation?"

Lata chuckled, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Legend has it that the Enderman would take on any job, no matter how petty if the gold was heavy enough. His pockets grew fat with ill-gotten gains, and his name struck fear into the hearts of those who crossed his path."

A young lad, wide-eyed and eager, interjected, "But what about his anger? You mentioned he's the angriest!".

Lata nodded, acknowledging the question. "Ah, you see, the Enderman had a temper that could rival a tempest at sea. Cross him, and you'd witness a storm of fury unleashed."

With a flourish of her hands, Lata painted the scene of a dusty town square where the Enderman confronted a fellow mercenary who dared challenge his claim to a lucrative bounty.

"The air crackled with tension as the two mercenaries faced off, words sharper than blades," Lata described, her eyes flickering like embers. "And in that moment, the Enderman's anger manifested in a whirlwind of chaos. It was said that even the bravest would cower before the storm within his gaze."

As she spoke, Renna observed the reactions of the patrons, her curiosity piqued by the vivid tale unfolding. The Flying Calf Tavern had transformed into a theater of imagination, and Lata held the audience captive with each word.

Lata, with a mischievous glint in her eye, concluded, "And so, the Enderman roamed the realms, a living embodiment of pettiness, greed, and anger, leaving tales of his exploits etched in the annals of mercenaries and miscreants alike."

Renna, intrigued by the tale but skeptical of its authenticity, couldn't help but voice her doubts. "If this Enderman is as infamous as you say, why have I never heard of him before?" she questioned, a quizzical expression on her face.

The patrons shared amused glances, and a seasoned farmer, his eyes twinkling with mirth, spoke up. "Ah, lass, the Enderman isn't the kind of legend that graces the noble courts or the polite conversations of high society. He's a shadowy figure, whispered about in the corners of inns and among those who tread the darker paths."

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Laughter rippled through the crowd, and another jovial soul chimed in, "It's an old folktale, dear. We all carry a bit of the Enderman within us, a personification of the darker aspects of our nature."

Renna arched an eyebrow, a playful smile playing on her lips. "So, you're saying this Enderman is just a metaphor for our inner demons?"

The laughter grew louder, coming from one direction— Lata, her eyes twinkling with amusement, joined in. "Oh, my dear, I'm not finished yet. I'm not talking about a metaphor. I speak of a living, breathing Enderman who walks among us, disguised in the mundane tapestry of everyday life."

The mirthful atmosphere took a momentary pause as the patrons absorbed Lata's words, realizing there was more to the story. Renna, now genuinely intrigued, leaned forward, her curiosity overcoming any skepticism.

Lata, with a theatrical flair, continued, "This Enderman is no mere symbol. He is real, and he is... bad news."

Lata's voice carried the weight of countless hardships as she continued her narrative. "The Enderman, my friends, is no mere legend. He is a man, flesh, and blood, whose shadow stretches across the lands. For years, I've traced his elusive steps, following whispers and rumors like breadcrumbs."

A middle-aged blacksmith, wiping his hands on a stained apron, chimed in, "You've been chasing this Enderman for how long now, Lata?"

Lata's eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and excitement. "Forever, it seems. His trail led me to the rustic charm of the Fandral Empire, where the legend of the Flying Calf Tavern piqued my interest. And here we are, gathered in its lively embrace."

Renna, still concealed in her corner, found herself drawn deeper into the tale, her noble curiosity now intertwined with the mystery of the Enderman.

A farmer, sipping ale from a tankard, asked, "What drives you to pursue this man, Lata? What makes the Enderman so special?"

Lata's gaze lingered on the memory of distant horizons. "He's a conundrum, a living paradox. A mercenary with a penchant for chaos, yet there's a method to his madness. I seek not just his story but the truth that dances in the shadows of his deeds."

As Lata spoke, the tavern seemed to shrink, enveloped by the gravity of her words. The patrons, enthralled by the bard's quest, listened intently.

Lata, her eyes gleaming with mischief, chose to unveil a glimpse of the Enderman's insatiable greed through a tale of dragons and regal ambitions.

"Imagine, if you will, the Enderman hearing whispers of a dragon, a majestic beast with scales as golden as his own lust for wealth," she began, her words casting a vivid tapestry in the minds of the listeners.

"Now, most would see a dragon as a threat, a creature to be feared. But not our dear Enderman. Oh no, he saw an opportunity," Lata continued, her tone teasing.

A farmer, anticipatory, called out, "An opportunity for what, Lata?"

"For gold, my friend. Always for gold," she replied with a conspiratorial wink. "Every time word reached the Enderman's ears of a dragon terrorizing a village or hoarding treasures, he would spring into action. Many hailed him as a hero for ridding them of the beast, but little did they know..."

Lata paused, building tension, and with a contemptuous smirk, she continued.

"He didn't do it for glory or to protect the people. No, our Enderman did it for the dragon itself. He coveted the hoard, the gleaming treasures, the very essence of the creature's greed," she revealed, her words weaving a tale of genuine avarice.

The patrons murmured among themselves, picturing the Enderman's mercenary ways. Lata, seeing her storytelling to be in effect, pressed on. "And here's the kicker—he refused to pay taxes for his newfound riches. Can you believe it?"

Amused murmurs and chuckles filled the air. But then, Lata's tone shifted, taking on a more somber note. "But the Enderman's greed knew no bounds. When a king dared demand his due, our audacious mercenary took matters into his own hands."

A hushed silence settled over the tavern as Lata continued, "He slew the king, not for rebellion or a noble cause, but to escape the clutches of taxation. The Enderman, driven by his insatiable greed, now walked a darker path—one stained with the blood of royalty."

The patrons, once immersed in laughter, now sat in stunned silence. The tale of the Enderman had taken a dark turn, leaving them awed and shocked by the consequences of one man's avarice.

Consequences that the Enderman surely didn't mind.

A weathered farmer, his brows furrowed, broke the quietude. "What happened to the kingdom after the Enderman... did what he did?"

Lata sighed, her gaze drifting into the distant realms of the tale. "Chaos, my friends. The death of a king sparked a civil war that tore through that very country into smaller pieces. Loyalties were shattered, alliances crumbled, and the kingdom descended into a maelstrom of conflict."

A hushed murmur swept through the tavern, the gravity of the Enderman's actions settling upon the patrons like a heavy fog. Renna, still hidden in her corner, listened with a mix of fascination and horror.

A young lad, his eyes wide with curiosity, dared to ask, "And the Enderman? What became of him?"

Lata's lips curled into a sly smile. "Ah, the Enderman thrived in the chaos he sowed. With the kingdom embroiled in strife, he found himself in higher demand than ever before. More contracts, more battles, and, of course, more gold."

A grizzled veteran at the bar grunted, "So, he profited from the very war he ignited?"

Lata nodded, her eyes holding a glint of irony. "Indeed. The Enderman was a master manipulator of conflict, a puppeteer pulling strings for his own gain. As the kingdom bled, his coffers swelled."

The patrons exchanged uneasy glances, grappling with the twisted logic of the Enderman's actions. A seasoned traveler, nursing a tankard of ale, spoke up, "But how could he find success in such treacherous times?"

Lata chuckled, her laughter carrying a note of bitter irony. "War breeds mercenaries, my friend. In times of strife, the Enderman became a commodity, a sword for hire in a land torn apart. Contracts flowed like the rivers of Agryb, and his name became synonymous with ruthlessness and profit."

The patrons, still captivated by Lata's storytelling, leaned in, their eyes reflecting a hunger for more tales of the elusive Enderman. A burly blacksmith, wiping ale foam from his beard, spoke up with a hearty laugh, "Lata, you've got us on the edge of our seats! Tell us more about this Enderman's exploits."

Lata, basking in the eager anticipation, grinned and raised her hands in a theatrical gesture. "Ah, my friends, your enthusiasm is music to my bardic ears. But worry not, for I have another tale, a chapter in the chronicles of the Enderman that will leave you breathless."

As she prepared to continue, Renna, sensing an opportunity to delve further into the mystery, emerged from her quiet corner. With a playful smile, she joined the crowd, her noble attire now catching the flickering light of the tavern's hearth. "Pray, Lata, regale us with more tales of this enigmatic Enderman. I'm curious to know how his story unfolds."

The patrons, surprised by the unexpected appearance of a noblewoman in their midst, exchanged curious glances. Lata, however, welcomed Renna with a nod and replied, "Ah, a new listener joins our merry band! Fear not, fair lady, for the tale I weave shall enrapture you as much as it does these fine folks... But that's for another time, I am parched, and in need of rest..."

Lata smiled, tired. She added, "How about, I shall let my partner take center stage? Chirp, how about you regale them with a poem about the Enderman?"

"Sure, sure," The magical avian replied earning surprise and awe from the crowd of gathering patrons.

Chirp, the colorful avian companion, spread its wings and hopped onto Lata's outstretched arm. With a flutter of feathers, it perched on the small podium, its gaze shifting among the curious faces in the tavern. The patrons, intrigued by the unexpected performer, fell into a hushed silence, eager to hear what lyrical tale the magical bird might unfold.

Chirp, with a graceful tilt of its head, began to recite a poem—

> In caverns deep, where echoes call,

> He ventured on, his stride not small.

> Through dragon's lairs and kingdom's fall,

> He sought not glory, but treasures tall.

>

> In whispers of the wind, where secrets are spread,

> The Enderman walked, where silence was bred.

> A paradox embodied, in shadows he'd tread,

> His hunger for gold, a hunger unfed.

>

> Tempestuous temper, a storm within,

> In the Enderman's gaze, chaos would begin.

> The pettiest heart, a most hateful man,

> Behold the creature, the Enderman.

As the poem unfolded, Renna found herself captivated by the avian's performance.

As Chirp's poetic symphony reached its crescendo, a palpable energy filled the Flying Calf Tavern. The patrons, caught in the enchantment of the moment, erupted into applause. Lata, with a proud smile, joined in the appreciation for her feathery companion.

As the applause subsided, Lata addressed the eager crowd, "Thank you, kindred spirits, for indulging in the tales of the Enderman. Our journey has only just begun, and there are more chapters to unfold. Until we meet again under the welcoming roof of the Flying Calf Tavern, may your dreams be filled with the echoes of adventurous tales."

With a final flourish, Lata and Chirp took a bow, the magical aura surrounding them slowly dissipating. The patrons, still buzzing with the magic of the evening, returned to their conversations, each carrying a piece of the Enderman's story with them.