[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Rumpelstadt]

The air in Rumpelstadt felt much heavier than before.

Alexander exhaled as his eyes darted over the empty town square, the boarded stalls, the faces that turned away whenever they met his gaze. "Where the hell are we even supposed to start with this 'investigation' of ours?" he muttered, irritation spilling into his voice. "Do they expect us to pull answers out of thin air?"

Ivan stood beside him, hands tucked behind his back, trace of exhaustion already settling under his eyes. "I have no clue," he admitted, his tone more reflective than frustrated. "We have to hold off on investigating the Retorta Guild; Dante and Tamamo might not find anything in the mines immediately. So… maybe the former miners would know something. They worked the mines for decades. They'd have heard things."

Alexander snorted, glancing at a group of townsfolk passing by — their eyes lowered, their steps hurried. "Yeah, right. Doubt they'll talk," he murmured. "Look at them. They can't even stand to make eye contact. Everyone's on edge."

Ivan nodded, his gaze following the same retreating figures. "Can you blame them? The mines were their entire livelihood — their pride, their means to survive. Now it's gone, stripped from them." He motioned ahead. "Come on. Standing here won't change anything. The tavern's still open. Maybe the owner knows something the others don't."

Alexander hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. "Fine," he muttered. "But I doubt he's gonna talk any more than the rest."

They walked through the murky streets in silence. The smell of soot and stale ale grew stronger as they approached the weathered tavern at the end of the lane — its sign creaking in the wind.

Ivan reached for the door and pushed. The hinges protested with a drawn-out groan.

Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating — the stale stench of cheap alcohol, damp wood, and smoke hung thick in the air. Only a handful of patrons lingered, their heads bowed over mugs or cards. No laughter. No noise beyond the faint clink of glass.

The two made their way toward the counter where the tavern owner stood polishing a mug with a rag that looked no cleaner than the tablecloths. The man glanced up, his weathered face scrunching slightly in recognition.

"Ah? You two again?" he said, his voice gravelly. He cocked a brow, half amused, half suspicious. "What is it this time? You actually gonna buy a drink, or are you just sniffin' around for another bounty?"

Alexander grimaced, his lip twisting. "I'd rather not drink anything from this place," he said dryly. "Who knows what diseases you could catch from one of your mugs."

The tavern owner barked a humorless chuckle. "Fair enough. Can't argue with that." He set the mug down with a dull thud. "So, then — if it ain't a drink, what's it gonna be? You here for work or just wasting both our time?"

"It's regarding the mines," Ivan said evenly.

That simple word — mines — changed the air instantly. The tavern owner's hands slowed, then stopped completely. The rag hung limp in his grip as his expression shifted, the faint humor draining from it.

"What about them?" he asked, his tone lower now.

Ivan met his gaze. "We heard what happened. The Retorta Guild taking control of the site, claiming ownership."

The tavern owner exhaled through his nose and leaned against the counter, eyes narrowing. "Then you've heard right," he muttered. "Bastards, the whole lot of 'em. Walk in here with their fancy clothes and their damn weapons, talking about rights and acquisitions — as if they've earned the dirt they're standing on." His knuckles tightened against the counter. "Men and women have bled in those tunnels. Died in them. Built their lives around those mines, and now they're treated like squatters in their own town."

Alexander crossed his arms. "So what the hell does the Retorta Guild actually want with it?"

The man looked at him as though the question were naïve. "What do they ever want? The minerals, the ore, whatever they can dig out and sell to the highest bidder."

"Normally," Alexander said, his tone cooling, "that would be the obvious reason. But do you even realize how big the Retorta Guild actually is?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hard. "They're not just some band of traders. They own land, ports, fleets — they've got enough soldiers to rival kingdoms. And yet they send a Legatus to sit here in a border town over mines they don't even need?"

The tavern owner frowned, the color draining slightly from his face. "When you put it like that…" he muttered, glancing away.

Ivan stepped in gently. "Can you think of any other reason those mines might be valuable to them?" he asked, careful not to sound accusatory.

The man's jaw flexed. He seemed to weigh something — a hesitation— before speaking again. "Not valuable in the way you're thinkin', maybe. But…" He paused, rubbing his thumb against the rim of the glass. "There's been talk. Old talk. Goes back years before the Guild even showed up."

"Talk about what?" Alexander prompted.

The tavern owner hesitated before letting out a long sigh. "Back when I was young, there was a part of the mine that got sealed off. Deepest section the lifts could go. They said it was unstable — too dangerous. But everyone knew that wasn't the real reason. Men who went down there stopped coming back. No bodies, no screams. Just… gone."

Ivan's brow furrowed. "Gone?"

The man nodded, grim. "A few search teams tried to find out what happened, but none of 'em made it far. After that, the foreman ordered it sealed. Said it was cursed. Folks stopped asking questions." He shrugged, though the gesture didn't hide the tension in his shoulders. "Sounded like hogwash at the time. Still does, mostly."

Ivan said nothing, but his eyes darkened slightly, thoughts building behind them. ("Could the source of those disappearances be the reason for the Guild's sudden interest?") he thought grimly. ("If that's the case… then whatever's down there isn't just superstition.")

Alexander, meanwhile, frowned and leaned back against the counter. "Hogwash or not," he said, "something doesn't add up. A sealed shaft, a missing crew, and now the Guild with their military parked over it? Yeah, that's not coincidence."

The tavern owner looked at them both, uncertainty in his eyes. "You're not thinking of going down there, are you?"

Ivan met his gaze.

"Not exactly."

"I see," the man muttered, nodding his head. "You two are smarter than you look."

"Maybe," Alexander said under his breath. "Let's go, Ivan."

Ivan turned toward the exit as Alexander mirrored him.

The tavern owner watched them leave in silence.

"Something in the mine, huh? I hope Dante and Tamamo are doing alright."

The tavern door creaked shut behind them.

Alexander huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets with a low grunt. "You're still worried about those two?" he asked, glancing at Ivan.

Ivan's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "They're our companions," he said simply. The tavern door thudded behind them, the muffled chatter from inside fading into nothing.

Alexander let out a snort. "Companions, right." He scoffed under his breath. "I wouldn't call that damn fox a companion of mine."

A smile tugged at Ivan's lips. "You still mad she called you smelly?"

"Of course I am!" Alexander bellowed, throwing his arms up. His voice echoed through the near empty street, catching the attention of a few nearby townsfolk who quickly averted their eyes. He huffed, leaning back against the tavern's wooden wall. "She's one to talk," he muttered. "She smells…"

Ivan tilted his head slightly, his tone amused. "Smells?"

Alexander froze mid-sentence, glaring at the cobblestones as though they were personally responsible for his embarrassment. "Tsk… damn it," he muttered, his voice dropping to a begrudging growl. "She kinda smelled nice."

Ivan's lips curved into a teasing grin. "I'll tell her you said that."

"Only if you wanna end up without your head," Alexander shot back without missing a beat, but the faintest hint of color rose to his cheeks.

Ivan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're hopeless."

The humor faded after a moment, replaced by a thoughtful silence. The wind brushed through the narrow street, rattling the tavern sign above them as Ivan's expression sobered. "But she is… odd," he murmured, almost to himself.

Alexander raised a brow, pushing off from the wall. "Odd is putting it lightly," he replied. "She called herself a spirit, remember? First time I heard that, I thought she was just another one of those talking Deseruit Beasts. Would've made more sense than all that cryptic nonsense."

"I remember," Ivan said, his tone pensive. "But the way she spoke… it wasn't like someone bluffing or pretending. She doesn't seem like she needs to lie, and her eyes suggest she has seen too much pass by. She seemed experienced, old in a way that's hard to describe..."

Alexander grunted. "Even though she called you foolish?"

Ivan sighed, a small, self-deprecating smile ghosting across his lips. "She was probably right." His voice softened. "Who knows what the Legatus would've demanded if I'd gone through with that negotiation? Maybe we would've lost the town anyway." He looked down, his expression shadowed by the thought. "Still… I just wanted to help these people. I didn't want this to turn into another bloodbath."

Alexander's gaze turned to him, his brow furrowing slightly. "You and me both," he said after a pause. "As annoying as Tamamo is, she wasn't wrong about one thing — if a Mortifer ever shows up here, we're screwed. No army, no barricade, nothing would stop them." His tone grew grim at the last words, a tension settling in his jaw.

Ivan's eyes darkened, his voice barely above a whisper. "It won't come to that," he said. "We'll save this town. We have to."

For a moment, Alexander didn't respond. The two stood there beneath the glow of the tavern lantern. The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

Alexander glanced at him again, his expression unreadable. The rough edges in his voice softened. "You always say these things like you actually believe it," he murmured. "I hope you're right."

Ivan gave a tired smile — one that didn't reach his eyes. "So do I."

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