"And that, my dear friend, is what I call a ball well done." Bethran tapped Leo's shoulder with a heavy hand, his cheeks already rosy from drink. Distancing himself to avoid the waft of alcohol, Leo nodded in agreement. "It really was a once-in-a-lifetime event."
Hiccup
"I can't believe you managed to get drunk on such a momentous night." Leo clicked his tongue in disapproval, grabbing Bethran just in time to keep him from tripping over a white stone step.
Bethran burped quietly and tried to steady himself. "And you're the one who gulped down, what… twenty cups of that orange stuff."
"Ambrosia." Leo corrected him, wondering how Bethran could confuse mead with something much finer. "I didn't even know they served it at a ball."
"Stop right there." A firm, feminine voice called from behind them — a voice they knew far too well.
"Good evening, Elder Cassandra." Leo performed a short bow. Bethran followed clumsily, barely retaining his balance, much less a proper show of reverence.
Cassandra sighed quietly, the alcohol's scent already unmistakable. "Drunk… already?"
"What did you think I meant by upholding a good public image?" Cassandra said quietly but with barely contained rage, not wishing to draw unwanted attention to their exchange. At that moment, she regretted focusing all her training on Leo while neglecting Bethran — although none in the Night expected him to be knighted. His efforts that evening had certainly contributed to Wulfe's downfall, yet in order to keep his true nature a secret, the Night Elders and Alicia chose to keep most of his role concealed.
Or had Alicia betrayed them?
That seemed improbable, considering Bethran was still a free man without a price on his head. Then again, there was a chance the Sun could leverage this knowledge to blackmail the Night into complying with their demands.
Cassandra decided it was safest to wait and see how events played out.
"Are we to depart today, Elder?" Leo interrupted her reverie.
Clearing her throat, Cassandra replied, "Not yet. There's a meeting today between the royals and the Phoenix. Our host chose not to share the details."
"That's… hopefully a good thing." Leo nodded quietly.
Cassandra nodded in return, glancing at the dozing Bethran. "Until then… the two of you should… go sightseeing or something." She turned and walked away, leaving the two at the castle's gate.
"All right, Bethran." Leo said, slinging his arm over his friend's shoulder as they made their way down the red gold streets of Elyria. Bethran let out a strange, gravelly grunt, then fell into a nonsensical song about a wolf and an elven mage.
"Where to now?" Bethran scratched his head.
"The Leaf is definitely out of it." Leo sighed. "It'd take us two days' travel, and we'd miss the meeting… And it's not like I know this city that well."
He decided to let their feet carry them wherever the 'wind' might take them.
"Over there." Bethran whispered, his finger shaky as he pointed toward a massive wooden sign a few buildings down the main road. The picture displayed a greedy wolf with gold coins in its claws. "The Greedy Wolf."
Leo tightened his jaw. "You can't be serious."
"Aw, come on." Bethran staggered forward, his balance faltering with each step — a gentle breeze might be enough to send him to the ground. "A little fun never hurt anybody."
"Suit yourself." Leo turned away, reluctantly adding, "Be back at the royal stables by evening."
Bethran didn't care. In less than a minute, he was already at the heavy oak door, his eyes glimmering as he took in everything—the massive wolf's head mounted above the counter, the elven musicians straining their voices in song (the kind many called a mess), and the elegantly carved tables that made the place seem much more sophisticated than a typical tavern.
Bethran fell into a seat, trying to clear his already heavy head. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea…"
To his surprise, a barmaid walked up to his table, placing two massive mugs of ale alongside a plate of steaming stew. "The young man over there sends his greetings." She nodded toward a corner of the room, where a solitary dwarf and a monocle-wearing man raised their drinks in return. Bethran nodded back in acknowledgement.
"Dwarves." Bethran sighed quietly. "Never a dull moment."
Hiccup
"I think I've had enough." Bethran whispered to himself, staring down into his shimmering mug. The froth seemed to be calling him, assuring him that a single additional sip would ease his worries. "One more glass wouldn't hurt." He raised it to his lips and drained it in a few deep gulps.
He then turned his attention to the bowl of rich stew, relishingly consuming it — careful not to lick the plate afterwards — before leaning back in his seat. His eyes grew heavy, closing slowly as the dancers in the center of the room seemed to fade into oblivion.
Meanwhile, Leo kept a brisk pace down the bustling streets, much to his growing dismay. His path was constantly interrupted by well-wishers, children tugging at his black regalia, and numerous individuals eager to congratulate him. All this made him appreciate the anonymity a hood might provide — yet today, it was useless; everyone recognized him.
"I guess Emelda was right." He sighed quietly, patting the head of a small elven child who tugged at his side just to get a glimpse of the legendary Fanghyr. "This black is a little more conspicuous than I thought."
He pressed forward until he came to his destination — a small bookshop owned by a member of the Night, a man who used this secondary profession as a convenient disguise to observe everything happening in Elyria.
"How can I help you, Fanghyr?" The elderly man tugged at his thick grey beard, closing the wooden door quietly behind Leo.
"I'm looking for a book." Leo began, his fingertips gliding along the spines of the many ancient volumes that filled the small space.
"One that you couldn't find back home?"
"Yes, Gerald." Leo nodded quietly. "One I couldn't find at home."
"And…one that you've been secretly reading." Leo added with a mischievous smirk.
Gerald's mouse-like eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Nothing ever gets past the legendary Panther, huh?"
Leo chuckled softly. "I learned much from your literary lessons."
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice all those ancient texts you kept locked up in that chest?"
Gerald sighed. "I guess I taught you too well."
"Do you have it?" Leo asked quietly.
Gerald held his gaze, their brown and blue locking briefly in understanding. "I do… but you must do something for me first in order to access it."
Leo tightened his grip on the tome he was already holding. "What is it this time…?"
Gerald paused, then whispered, "I need you to steal something."
Leo sighed, unable to shake the strange sense of dejavu coming over him.