Chapter 2: Orb
Zephyr woke well into midday with a splitting headache, his skull throbbing as if a smith had smacked it with a hammer.
"Urgh... what was that stuff yesterday?" he groaned, rubbing his temples as he shuffled into the living room.
Old Bjorn stood by the window with his arms crossed, staring outside with an absent look in his eyes. The dwarf seemed deep in thought, barely acknowledging Zephyr’s presence.
Zephyr cleared his throat. "Old man, what was that crazy wine you gave me last night?"
Bjorn’s eyes refocused, locking onto Zephyr before scoffing. "Hmph. You don’t even know the treasure you drank. That was Ragnar’s Wine, boy. A dwarven speciality. Brewed from ember-fruits that only grow near magma pools deep underground. We don’t drink it lightly, much less share it." He huffed, as if slightly regretting his generosity. "Be honored."
"Yeah, well, my head doesn’t feel very honored right now," Zephyr grumbled.
Bjorn jabbed a finger toward the eating table. "There. Drink that and get some food down your belly. The drink will ease your hangover."
Zephyr sighed, dropping into the chair and taking a hesitant sip of the murky brown concoction. The bitterness made him wince, but warmth spread through his body, dulling the pounding in his skull almost immediately.
"Ahh... it’s actually working." He looked up and found Bjorn staring at him with an unreadable expression. "What?"
The old dwarf let out a long sigh, scratching his head before turning toward the door. "Eat up and get moving. You still need to register at the town hall today. Get it done quickly."
Zephyr groaned. "Crap. I still have to do that?"