Chapter 26: Into the Wolf’s Den
We ended up having lunch at a local tavern that catered mostly to travelers and merchants. The air inside was thick with the scent of grilled meat, roasted root vegetables, and freshly baked bread. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the food was hot, hearty, and just what we needed after a morning on our feet. We sat by a corner window where a breeze from the nearby sea drifted in, ruffling the curtains and cooling the sun-warmed room.
After eating, we strolled back into the market. The place was as lively as ever—vendors shouting over one another, children chasing each other between carts, and stalls bursting with goods from every corner of the region. We passed spice merchants with crimson and golden powders piled high, leatherworkers displaying satchels and belts, and weavers selling cloth dyed in every hue under the sun.
I stopped at a small glassmaker’s stall for a moment, drawn in by delicate perfume bottles shaped like tiny sea creatures—octopuses, shells, dolphins. Their smooth, translucent forms shimmered in the light, and I couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship.
Eventually, though, the constant shouting and foot traffic wore on me.
Since we were staying in a port city, I figured there had to be quieter corners—places where fishermen or sailors went after long voyages to ease their aching muscles and battered spirits. Maybe a simple bathhouse. Maybe a tucked-away sanctuary where the waves could be heard more than the street hawkers.
The sun was beginning to set as we left the market and made our way through the streets.
We wandered toward a quieter part of town, stepping into the alleys that branched off from the main road.
That’s when something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.
’Huh... isn’t that boy...?’
My memories flashed back to that moment in the market—when Alessio, Khan, and I had stepped in to help a boy and his little sister who were being harassed by a group of thugs. The fear in their eyes, the way the girl cried and begged for mercy, trembling as she tugged at the attacker’s sleeve—trying to protect her brother in her own way—it all came rushing back like it had just happened.
"Alessio, that boy..." I murmured, pointing subtly.