The Three Mugs Bar was lively that night. Laughter and mugs clashing filled the air, but as soon as Arden and his group stepped through the door, the noise shifted, not silenced but colored with whispers. People had seen their faces on the battlefield, and respect carried quickly in a place like Greyhold.

The receptionist, a thin man with quick hands and a quicker bow, rushed forward. "Honored guests," he said, voice dripping with courtesy, "what may I bring you? Refreshments? Something to ease the wait before I fetch Master Boro?"

Rael leaned closer to Nyra and muttered, "This feels strange. Like we suddenly grew a second skin."

Nyra only nodded, though her eyes softened. It was a welcome change after the scorn they had grown used to. Arden gave a small smile and waved his hand. "Just water will do. Call Boro."

The man bowed so low Arden thought his forehead might hit the floor.

They were shown to a private corner, away from the noisy crowd. The drinks came quickly, not ale or wine but clean cups with slices of lemon floating in the water. Zephyra sniffed hers once and sneezed, unimpressed, which drew a chuckle from Arden.

"Feels different, doesn't it?" Rael said, looking around at the respectful glances cast their way.

"This is what nobles must feel like," Nyra replied, but her tone carried both relief and a touch of disbelief.

Arden shrugged and leaned back in his chair, smirking. "I wouldn't get too comfortable. Nobles usually end up targets more than they end up respected."

Moments later, Boro appeared, swaggering through the back door with his a half-drunk grin. His beard was unkempt, his clothes smelling faintly of old liquor, but his eyes were sharp, too sharp for the act he played.

"Ah! The heroes of Greyhold grace my humble corner again," Boro said with mock formality. "Tell me, did you come to drink me under the table this time, or is it business that drags you from the arms of cheering crowds?"

Arden tilted his cup casually and smirked. "If I wanted to drink you under the table, you'd already be lying on the floor. No, business this time."

Boro slapped his belly and laughed, clearly enjoying Arden's jab. "Straight to the point, I like that. So, what is it? You didn't walk through my door without something worth my time."

Arden reached into his pouch and drew out a carefully wrapped bundle. He set it on the table and pushed it toward Boro.

The merchant's smile faded into curiosity. He unwrapped it with care, and the pale, faintly glowing petals of the Moonveil Blossom spilled into the lantern light.

Boro's eyes widened.

He held it up gently, like it might vanish in his hands. "Moonveil Blossom," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how rare this is? I've seen it once in my life, growing in a swamp I barely survived. Do you know how many mages would slit throats to hold this in their palm?"

Rael raised a brow. "So it's worth more than a few mugs of ale?"

Boro ignored him, his focus entirely on the flower. "This herb… it shortens the time it takes to cross thresholds. Aether flows smoother with it, meditation becomes sharper, and growth…" He shook his head in admiration. "Growth is almost doubled, maybe more."

He glanced at Arden, narrowing his eyes. "You came to me because you want it processed into an elixir."

Arden chuckled and nodded. "That's the idea. Can you do it?"

Boro leaned back, stroking his beard. "Of course I can. But something like this isn't simple. It requires time, special care, rare reagents"

Arden cut him off with a grin. "And payment, I know. But you've made enough off me before. How about I make it easy? You'll keep this one safe, and I'll add a few herbs from my stash to sweeten the pot."

He placed a smaller pouch on the table.

Inside were herbs not as rare, but still valuable, taken from their hunts and from the organization's stores. Boro peeked inside, his eyes gleaming at the sight of what was offered.

"You drive a sharp bargain, boy," Boro said, but there was a hint of delight in his tone. "Fine. I'll prepare the elixir. Ten days, no less. You'll have something worthy of that blossom."

Arden leaned forward, his tone dry but playful. "If you don't, I'll come back for both the elixir and your beard."

Boro laughed so hard his cup spilled. "It's good doing business with you again."

Arden stood, tucking the pouch back. "Ten days then."

As they turned to leave, Boro called after him, "Don't go dying before then, Arden. It'd be a shame to waste such good herbs on a corpse."

Arden waved without turning. "If I die, I'll come back to haunt you for interest."

Outside, the cool night air greeted them. Arden took a deep breath. "That's one thing settled. Now, before training… weapons."

Rael perked up instantly. "New weapons?"

"Custom ones," Arden said. His grin stretched as he glanced at each of them. "Something made for us. Our fights won't get any easier, and I'm not planning to stand still while the world tries to crush us."

Nyra's eyes lit despite her attempts to stay composed. "Weapons built for our affinities… it makes sense."

Zephyra rumbled low, feathers shivering with excitement. "I want fire in mine."

Arden chuckled and scratched her neck. "We'll see what Belric says. If anyone can forge what we need, it's him."

The Artificer's Hall loomed ahead, its windows glowing with forge-light.

Unlike their last visit, they didn't waste time wandering the outer halls. They moved straight to where they had found Master Belric before, their steps echoing against stone.

The heat and sound of hammers grew louder as they approached. Arden's chest stirred with anticipation.

The battles ahead would demand more of them, and it was time their weapons reflected that.

A/N:

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