As Michael and Dillon chatted in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, an Earthen waiter approached their table. The waiter had a sleek and streamlined body with shimmering scales that glinted under the tavern's flickering lights. Her face was elongated and tapered, and her large eyes glowed with an otherworldly luminescence.
"Hello, gentlemen. What can I get for you?" the server asked, her voice carrying a faint hint of an accent that Michael couldn't quite place.
Dillon grinned at him, revealing a mouthful of freckles. "I'll have my usual," he said, winking at the waiter. Dillon's lack of experience in the world outside of the Sea realm meant that he wasn't too intimidated by Michael. Once Michael assured him he meant no harm, Dillon relaxed and resumed his usual demeanor.
The server rolled her eyes playfully. "You know I can't serve you that here," she said, shaking her head.
Dillon chuckled. "Fine, then. How about a pint of your best ale?"
The server scribbled something down on her notepad before turning to Michael. "And for you, sir?"
"I'll just have fruit juice, please. No booze for me," Michael said, offering a polite smile.
The server nodded, jotting down his order. "Coming right up," she said before heading back towards the bar.
Dillon looked at Michael, a curious expression on his face. "No booze, huh? You're a cautious one, aren't you?" he said, taking a sip of the ale in his mug.
Michael shrugged. "I just prefer to keep a clear head," he said.
Dillon nodded, taking another sip of his ale. "Can't say I blame you. This place can be dangerous if you're not careful," he said, his voice lowering to a whisper.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous? What do you mean?" he asked.
Dillon leaned in closer, his freckled face growing serious. "There are a lot of unsavory characters who come through here. Criminals, smugglers, that sort of thing. You never know who you might run into," he said, his eyes scanning the room.
"One of these unsavory characters happened to cross my path," Michael said calmly. Dillon became wary of Michael's words. As someone who prided himself on knowing every scoundrel in the city of Serpent Hall, he couldn't help but become curious when Michael mentioned encountering one of them.
"Do you know who he is?" Dillon asked, his curiosity piqued. He hoped that Michael's response would shed some light on the type of person he was dealing with.
"Cato, I believe," said Michael calmly. As soon as Michael mentioned the name "Cato," Dillon nearly spat out his ale. Cato was one of the most feared criminals in the waters outside the city, and Dillon couldn't believe that Michael had dealt with him and came out unscathed. Suddenly, Dillon felt a wave of fear wash over him as he realized just how little he knew about this mysterious stranger sitting across from him.
"What did you do?" Dillon asked, his voice slightly trembling with fear and curiosity.
"He's still alive if that's what you're asking. But I can't say the same for his minions," Michael replied, his tone casual and unconcerned.
Dillon let out a sigh of relief, realizing that Michael had dealt with Cato without killing him. As much as Dillon despised Cato for his despicable deeds, he knew that his demise could create a power vacuum in the criminal underworld, inviting even more dangerous and ruthless individuals to take his place. The last thing the city needed was another gang leader, causing chaos and destruction.
"Just be careful, okay? You don't want to get mixed up in anything you can't handle," Dillon said, a hint of concern in his eyes before taking another long sip of his ale.
As Dillon took another sip of his drink, Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out the shark head medallion that caught Dillon's eye.
"I've heard you can help me locate the individual who crafted this medallion. From my analysis of the runes inscribed on it, I can tell it holds significant power. There can't be many like it, so I need to find the craftsman and ask who they were made for," Michael explained to Dillon, holding up the medallion for him to see.
Dillon peered closely at the medallion, inspecting its intricate details. "I could possibly assist you," he replied after a moment.
"But why do you seek the craftsman?" asked Dillon.
"Let's just say that the medallion holds a clue to find someone I care for,"
Dillon raised an eyebrow but didn't press for more information. "Okay, I'll help you out. But it won't be simple. The craftsman you're searching for is known to be extremely private and doesn't accept just any customers,"
"Does he have a name?" Michael asked.
Dillon took a sip of his ale before answering Michael.
"So, the craftsman you're looking for is Aric. He's an elder of one of the most powerful noble families in the city. Mermon through and through, so be careful not to offend his pride."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Mermon? I've heard they're quite reclusive and rarely socialize with other races,"
Dillon nodded. "Yeah, they're proud of their heritage and don't take kindly to outsiders. But Aric's the best at what he does. He's the one who crafted that medallion you're holding, and there's a good chance he knows who he gave them to,"
"I see," said Michael, taking another look at the medallion. "Well, I appreciate the warning. Do you know where I can find Aric?"
Dillon typically didn't offer his services without a fee, but he made an exception for Michael. This was no ordinary job; Mutrad had personally instructed Dillon to do whatever Michael asked. Knowing that Mutrad would owe him a favor was worth more to Dillon than any amount of money.
Dillon reclined in his seat, pondering for a moment.
"Actually, I think I know where to find him," Dillon said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Aric's nephew is the best place to start. Lucky for you, I know where to find the young lad. Only one problem though, they are not very fond of outsiders either,"
"Well, we'll see about that. But first, let's find this nephew of Aric's,"
Dillon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Aric's family runs a dance house in the city. It's quite exclusive, and only the most affluent clientele are allowed in. But Aric's nephew often visits the place. If we're lucky, we might be able to catch him there. Just one thing you should know, they don't usually welcome inferiors like us,"
As Michael was about to ask Dillon to finish his drink and lead the way to the dance house, the wooden door of the tavern creaked open, causing Dillon to turn his head in the direction of the entrance. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the group of Mermons entering the establishment. Among them was a young man with an air of confidence who led the group, and Dillon recognized him immediately as Aric's nephew.
Dillon couldn't believe his luck. Just as he was about to lead Michael to find the young man, he had walked right into the tavern. Dillon's surprise was evident on his face, and he quickly leaned over to Michael and whispered,
Excitement surged through Dillon as he leaned over to Michael, his whispered words betraying his astonishment. "That's Aric's nephew!" he said, his eyes widening in disbelief. "The very one we were just about to search for. We don't even have to leave this tavern now. Either you're incredibly lucky, or he's incredibly unlucky,"
Michael was taken aback to see Aric's nephew in the same tavern as him. He was used to having to perform tiresome tasks before getting what he wanted, but this time it seemed as though luck was on his side. Upon turning around, Michael saw a Mermon who stood tall and proud, exuding an air of arrogance. His sharp, piercing eyes seemed to size up everyone in the room, while chiseled, defined facial features only added to his commanding presence. With high cheekbones and a strong jawline, his face appeared sharp and angular. Jet black hair, styled in a sleek, sophisticated manner, was slicked back from his forehead and fell in a glossy wave at the nape of his neck. Despite his unpleasant demeanor, it was undeniable that he was undeniably handsome and had a regal bearing that demanded attention. The young mermon's commanding presence drew the eyes of everyone in the room, leaving little doubt that he was used to being the center of attention.
While observing the young mermon, Michael couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to enter this particular establishment. It didn't appear to be the kind of place that a proud mermon would frequent. Regardless of the reason behind his presence, Michael knew that he needed to speak with him as soon as possible in order to meet Aric.
One of Young Master Tertis' minions strode up to the tavern owner with a haughty expression on his face. "Young Master Tertis requires a table," he said imperiously.
The tavern owner looked nervous but managed to stammer out a response. "Of course, sir. Right away, sir. Follow me, please."
As they walked towards a table, the minion continued to look around the tavern with a sneer on his face. "Make sure it's a good one," he ordered. "Young Master Tertis doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The tavern owner nodded quickly. "Right away, sir. Here you are," he said, indicating a table in a quiet corner of the tavern.
Young Master Tertis' minion looked at the table critically before deigning to sit down. "See that we are served well," he said, turning to the tavern owner. "And make sure our drinks are never empty."
The tavern owner nodded quickly, eager to please the arrogant mermon and his entourage.
Meanwhile, the server brought Dillon's order to the table. Michael gave a nod of appreciation and leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted towards Young Master Tertis and his minions as they settled at the table that had been prepared for them.
"Unbelievable," one of Tertis' minions exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Those mermon girls dared us to come to this filthy tavern of all places."
"I know, right?" another minion chimed in. "But we couldn't refuse. That would be a sign of weakness."
"I can't stand the stench of this place. I'll have to bathe for hours to get rid of it," a third minion said with a look of disgust. "And don't even get me started on the terrible music. I feel like my ears are bleeding."
"At least we proved ourselves," the first minion said. "But what about the mermon girls? We need to come up with a challenge that's actually worth our time."
One of the minions glanced around the room, eyeing the inferiors with contempt. "Look at these inferiors," he said with a disgusted tone. "As if this place couldn't get any worse."
"Those girls really played us," another minion grumbled. "But we can't let them think we're weak."
ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom Tertis smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I have an idea," he said, his voice low and sly. "Something that will really put them to the test,"
"Perhaps we should wait for the opportune moment and politely request Tertis to arrange a meeting with his uncle. If we're fortunate and he's in a cooperative mood, we might have a chance to see Aric sooner than expected," Dillon scanned the group of Tertis and his minions and spoke with a low voice.
"I have a quicker and more effective solution," Michael said, cracking his knuckles. Dillon felt a sense of unease from the look in Michael's eyes.
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