The Crimson Dawn

Chapter 2

The tavern was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional roar of laughter. Derick—Barrett, Raphael, and Ari had already secured a large wooden table near the hearth. Their drinks foamed and spilled over the rims of their mugs as they swapped exaggerated stories about their latest escapades, their laughter booming above the noise of the crowd.

Gedeon dropped heavily into the chair beside Derick, letting out an exaggerated groan as he reached for a mug of ale. His shaggy black hair fell across his forehead, slightly damp from the journey. His striking violet eyes caught the light from the hearth, giving him an almost mysterious allure. “I don’t even care whose this is,” he muttered, taking a deep gulp.

Aydin, ever the gentleman, stood behind Stella, pulling out a chair with a small bow. “Milady,” he said, his polished English accent hinting at his noble upbringing.

Stella giggled, shaking her head as her platinum hair shimmered in the dim light. The loose waves framed her delicate features, and her radiant violet eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re too proper, Aydin. One day, you’ll have to let loose.”

“Perhaps,” Aydin replied with a faint smirk, his chestnut-brown hair neatly trimmed and his bright blue eyes catching the warm glow of the room. His sharp jawline covered with a neatly trimmed beard and well-fitted, though travel-worn, tunic and vest gave him an air of refinement he couldn’t seem to shed. He slid into the chair beside her, straightening his posture as he poured himself a glass of wine.

Derick, his short-cropped brown hair slightly tousled, leaned back in his chair with his usual quiet confidence. His hazel eyes, bright and expressive, scanned the room with a mix of amusement and calculated awareness. He took a long swig from his mug, his muscular frame relaxing as the warmth of the ale hit him.

Barrett, on the other hand, was impossible to miss. His massive frame, accented by his light grey skin, dominated the space. Long, dark hair was tied back, exposing features that bore a striking resemblance to legends of Orc and Giant kin. His bright yellow eyes gleamed with mischief as he raised his mug. “Careful, Ari,” he teased, his deep, rumbling voice full of challenge. “You might regret this game.”

Ari scoffed, her fire-red hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders as she leaned forward. Her sharp green eyes burned with determination, her freckled face lighting up with every laugh. “You’re all talk, Barrett. I can drink circles around you.”

Raphael gave a small shrug, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his soft brown eyes as he nursed his mug. His boyish charm made him seem younger than he was, but his toned, wiry build betrayed years of Paladin training. “Big words for someone so… pint-sized,” he teased Ari with a grin.

“Pint-sized?” Ari shot back, pretending to be offended, though a grin tugged at her lips.

Stella, seated beside Aydin, tucked a strand of her platinum hair behind her ear as she joined the banter. “Leave her alone, Raphael. At least she can handle a drink, unlike some people.”

The group soon decided to start a drinking game. Ari slammed her mug on the table with an excited grin. “Rules are simple: drink until you drop or toss your guts. Winner gets… bragging rights.”

Derick chuckled, raising his mug. “You’re on.”

Barrett leaned back in his chair, his yellow eyes narrowing playfully. “I’m warning you all now, you don’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t get cocky, Barrett,” Gedeon chimed in, swirling the ale in his mug. His violet eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “You don’t want to go down in flames.”

Raphael shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’ll drink you all under the table.”

“Big words,” Stella teased, her violet eyes sparkling as she raised her own mug.

As the game began, the table filled with laughter and jeering. Each participant threw back drink after drink, the mugs piling up in the center of the table. Aydin, however, sipped his wine slowly, watching with amusement.

Despite their time away from high society, Aydin still carried himself with a sense of decorum. He leaned back in his chair, his bright blue eyes observing the chaos with faint amusement.

Barrett, already several mugs deep, leaned over toward Aydin with a wide grin. “You’re missing out, highborn. What’s the matter? Afraid a little ale might loosen that stiff neck of yours?”

Aydin chuckled softly, raising his glass. “Someone needs to remain sober to ensure you all make it back in one piece.”

“Excuses!” Ari declared, downing another mug and slamming it onto the table, her red hair falling into her face as she grinned triumphantly.

Stella glanced at Aydin, her platinum hair catching the light. Her violet eyes met his, and her lips curved into a soft smile. “Leave him alone. He’s charming the way he is.”

A faint blush rose to Aydin’s cheeks, and he quickly turned his attention back to his wine, pretending not to notice.

As the night wore on, the drinking game continued, the group’s laughter filling the tavern and drawing more than a few curious glances. For a moment, amidst the chaos and camaraderie, they felt like more than a group of misfits—they felt like family.

The tavern’s lively atmosphere descended into chaos the moment the group of mercenaries stumbled by. One of them, a scruffy man with a jagged scar across his cheek, “accidentally” spilled his mug of ale all over Stella’s chest. Her platinum hair shimmered under the tavern’s dim light, and her bright violet eyes narrowed as the warm liquid soaked through her shirt.

“Apologies, love,” the man drawled, his smirk making it clear it wasn’t an accident. His friends laughed as he stepped closer, blocking her escape. “Why don’t you leave these kids and come join us for a real night of fun?”

Aydin felt his chest tighten with a rush of anger and jealousy. His noble upbringing instilled self-control, but this? This was too far. Rising from his seat, his sharp blue eyes locked on the man. “You owe her an apology. And I suggest you bugger off before this gets ugly.”

The mercenaries roared with laughter, their attention shifting to Aydin. One of them sneered, “Look at this highborn brat, trying to play hero. Run back to your manor, boy, before you hurt yourself.”

Before Aydin could retort, Stella stood, brushing off the ale and drawing their attention back to her. She smiled sweetly, tilting her head in feigned amusement. “Boys, boys, no need to get heated. I’m flattered, really.” Her voice dripped with charm as she moved closer, her curves swaying just enough to hold their attention.

The lead mercenary’s grin widened as she leaned in, but he didn’t notice when her delicate fingers slipped into his belt and snatched his coin purse. With a quick flick, she tossed it over to Aydin, who instinctively caught it and slid it up his sleeve. Stella winked, her violet eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Thanks for the drink,” she purred, turning to walk away.

But the man grabbed her arm, his grip tightening. “Oh no, darling. You’re not going anywhere. Let me show you what a real man can do.”

Stella turned back to him with a seductive smile, leaning in as if she might kiss him. “Real man? Please.” She straightened, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The room erupted in laughter, but the mercenary’s face darkened. As she turned to leave again, his hand shot out, grabbing her rear.

Before Aydin could react, Stella spun, her knee slamming into the man’s groin. He doubled over with a groan just in time for her fist to connect with his nose, sending him sprawling to the ground. She smoothed her shirt, cleared her throat, and said matter-of-factly, “Not interested.”

The room went still for a heartbeat before chaos erupted.

Barrett roared with laughter, his towering frame barreling into the fray like a living battering ram. His deep yellow eyes gleamed with excitement as he sent one mercenary flying into a table. “Now this is what I call fun!” he bellowed, throwing another man over his shoulder.

Gedeon, light on his feet, ducked and weaved through the punches like a dancer. His shaggy black hair whipped around as he grinned, his violet eyes flashing with mischief. “You’re all so clumsy,” he taunted, easily dodging a swing.

Ari, however, didn’t join the fight. Instead, the redhead slumped over a potted plant in the corner, her pale skin flushed as she vomited into the leaves. “I told you I could drink more than Barrett,” she groaned weakly.

Derick moved through the chaos with a different purpose, his hazel eyes scanning the room for opportunities. While the others fought, he deftly lifted coin purses from the unconscious patrons scattered across the floor. “What a profitable evening,” he muttered, smirking as he pocketed his earnings.

Aydin, meanwhile, had his focus on Stella. She moved gracefully, dodging and striking like she’d been doing it all her life. Her platinum hair gleamed under the flickering candlelight as she held her ground against two of the mercenaries.

One of them lunged at her, knocking into her side. Stella stumbled, falling forward into Aydin, who was just standing to join the fight. They tumbled to the ground in a heap, Stella landing on top of him.

Her big, bright violet eyes met his, and for a moment, the chaos around them faded. “Hi there,” she said with a cheeky smile, her lips inches from his.

Aydin blinked, his breath hitching as he stared at her. Before he could respond, his eyes flicked past her, widening as he saw a large orc mercenary losing balance and about to crash onto them.

Without thinking, Aydin wrapped his arms around Stella and rolled them to the side, shielding her as the orc hit the ground where they had been. Aydin ended up on top of her, his chest pressed against hers.

He brushed a strand of platinum hair from her face, his voice soft. “Are you okay?”

Stella chuckled, her smile teasing. “Yeah, I’m fine. But tell me, Mr. Starash, is that a potion in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Aydin’s face turned crimson as he stuttered, struggling to form a coherent response.

Before he could say anything, a booming voice cut through the noise. “ENOUGH!”

The tavern keeper, a massive giant of a man with curved horns and a scowl that could melt steel, stood in the doorway. His presence alone made the brawling patrons freeze.

“Who started this fight?” he growled, his deep voice shaking the walls.

The room fell silent as every finger pointed toward Stella and her group.

The tavern keeper’s eyes narrowed. “The f*****g Crimson Dawn,” he muttered.

Derick raised his hands in mock surrender, his hazel eyes sparkling as he stepped forward. “Now, now, my good sir, let’s not be hasty. Surely we can—”

“Pay for the damage or get out,” the giant barked, cutting him off.

Derick groaned, fishing a bag of coins from his pocket and tossing it to the tavern keeper. “Fine. Here. Keep the change.”

The tavern keeper caught the bag, nodded, and pointed to the door. “Out.”

The group staggered out of the tavern, giggling like children. Ari hiccuped, leaning against Barrett for support. “Was that… the fifth tavern we’ve been kicked out of in Jeric?”

“Seventh, my dear,” Stella corrected, laughing as she leaned on Gedeon, her platinum hair falling over her shoulder.

Aydin sighed, adjusting his vest as he looked over the group. “I’m guessing we’ve no coin left for a room, then?”

Raphael patted his empty pockets, shaking his head. “Not a chance, friend.”

Aydin nodded, resigned. “Camping it is, then. Again.”