Chapter 33 - Tavern tensions

(Apologies for the slight delay. Will most likely be an additional chapter later today or tomorrow)



People were staring.

That might’ve been bad enough, but some of the Hollowstone Table folk were staring with wide eyes, like they’d just seen something they shouldn’t have. The drunk man in front of Vera looked as if his legs might give out at any moment.

No one spoke. It felt as though they were all waiting.

“…Aren’t you going to apologize?” Vera finally asked.

The man blinked at her, dazed. She gestured toward Gloria, and then to Serel.

His face blanched further. He glanced between the three of them, then swallowed hard. “S-Sorry. Sorry about that.”

Gloria was quiet for a moment, then flashed Vera a small smile before turning to Serel. “I’m fine. What about you?”

Serel’s eyes flicked to the man, then lowered. She gave a small nod. “Mmm.”

“That’s great.” Gloria let out a breath, knelt down to pick up her fallen tray, and turned back to the drunk with a sharper edge to her voice. “But you better pay attention next time. Ma and me aren’t the ones you’ll have to deal with if you make trouble here again.”

The man bobbed his head quickly. “‘C-Course. I’ll… be careful.” He darted one last nervous glance at Vera—she could almost see the shiver that ran through him—then spun on his heel and stumbled back to his companions. They watched him sit without a single word.

But soon enough, more eyes slid back to Vera.

She tried to ignore them. She didn’t know how much Resonance she’d let slip, but if it had shaken that man so badly, the others were almost guaranteed to have felt that she was far, far stronger than any of them. Hopefully that was all they’d guess. Plenty of people walked the path of House Hollow. Veralyth Mournvale wasn’t the only one.

It should be fine. Right?

“Wow. Your mom’s intense, huh?” Gloria’s voice broke the brief silence.

Vera’s eyes shifted back to the two girls. Gloria was smiling at Serel, then glanced at her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Maybe you didn’t need to scare him that much, but I get it. Those types aren’t bad folk, just… they forget themselves when they drink. Still, might’ve done him good. Maybe he’ll think twice next time.”

“…You’re welcome. And sorry.”

“Sorry?” Gloria gave her a strange look. “For what?”

“For… making a scene.” Vera nodded slightly toward the watching tables. “I might’ve overreacted.”

Gloria waved it off. “Nah. I didn’t mean it when I called you intense. You should see what Ma does on rowdy nights. Bet she’s tossed out half those folk at some point.” She jerked a thumb in that direction.

“I… see.” Vera studied her for a second longer before turning back to Serel. “Are you sure you’re alright, Serel?”

The girl looked up at her. “Mmm. I’m okay.”

Vera’s eyes dropped to the locket at her chest. She needed to look into that. Soon.

“What was all this noise?” the matron’s voice called as she came walking out from the kitchen, gaze sweeping the room. It lingered on the Kindled before settling on her daughter, Serel, and finally Vera. She approached them. “They’re not troubling you, are they?”

Vera hesitated, then shook her head. “No. Just a small accident. It’s handled.”

The matron’s gaze lingered a second longer, then she gave a short grunt. “If you say so.” She turned to her daughter. “Don’t keep your da waiting, girl. He needs help with the spit.”

“I will, Ma,” Gloria answered, though Vera caught her rolling her eyes for Serel and laughing softly. She winked at the younger girl’s puzzled expression, gave a jaunty wave, then tucked the tray against her chest. As she passed Vera, she leaned in close.

“Miss, are you Kindled?” she whispered, eyes bright with curiosity.

Vera paused, looking at her.

“Whatever you did back there was scary,” Gloria continued in an easy rush, “but also amazing. I’d love to hear how it works.”

Before Vera could reply, the girl had skipped away with a grin, disappearing toward the back. Her mother followed her with a narrowed eye before turning once more to Vera. She offered a small nod, and then she too left.

Vera followed them both with her eyes, then shifted her focus to Serel.

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Serel,” she said, dragging her chair and sitting down close. She carefully reached for the locket. “Can I take a look at this?”

Serel looked down at it, one hand rising. “Mommy, where did this come from?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I want to look.” Vera slipped the chain over Serel’s head and turned the locket in her palm. Its surface gleamed as if new now, all traces of rust and dried blood really gone. Her thumb pressed against the face to open it, revealing the hollow compartment within, still holding a tiny, delicate, ornamental blade.

She frowned.

What was this? Why was it tied to Serel?

She looked back at the girl. “Serel, does this feel… special to you in any way?”

Serel stared at it, her little brow furrowed in—dangerously cute—concentration. After a long pause, she shook her head. “No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“…No.” A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “Should I…?”

“No, no,” Vera said. “I’m just checking to be sure.” She fell silent for a moment, then added more softly, “…Earlier, you said you felt strange. Can you tell me about that? How did you feel strange?”

Serel didn’t answer right away. Several seconds passed as she sat still, not moving, not speaking, until Vera’s worry began to rise. Just as she was about to press her, Serel bit her lower lip and whispered. “I don’t know. I can’t remember…”

Vera watched her closely, noting the genuine concern in the girl’s expression. Without thinking, her hand rose and brushed across Serel’s cheek, stroking the delicate skin. She froze briefly when she registered the action, but didn’t pull back. Eventually, she cleared her throat. “Serel, you can be honest with me. Are you sure you can’t remember?”

Serel met her eyes, then gave a small, reluctant nod.

“Then… are you worried that I’ll be disappointed because of that?”

The girl didn’t answer.

A tightness pulled at Vera’s chest. And it wasn’t only from seeing Serel’s hesitation. It was from a possible realization taking root in her mind. One she wasn’t entirely sure of yet, but which was starting to make uncomfortable sense, and that maybe she should have noticed before.

It could be that, just as Vera didn’t truly know Serel, Serel didn’t truly know her.

Because if she did, she would know Vera could never be disappointed by something like this.

Vera already knew that in Serel’s ‘backstory’, her parents hadn’t always been around. It made sense that she felt some uncertainty and hesitation around them. More so when Vera wasn’t purely the Veralyth Mournvale Serel remembered.

But she was beginning to suspect that wasn’t the whole of it. And Serel herself didn’t seem aware of it.

At first, Vera had dismissed most of the signs. Chalked them up as quirks of Ashen Legacy’s game systems bleeding into this world, like with Caldrin. But even he still appeared to know her very well, some quirks and flaws included. This with Serel… felt different.

There might be more to it.

Her gaze dropped to the locket in her palm again. She closed her fingers around it, and it vanished back into her Vaultring. Though she doubted it would stay there.

She needed to get to the bottom of what the locket was and its connection to Serel.

Her only lead was the vision they’d shared during the Rite of Embercalm. It wasn’t much, but it had given her a direction to look, at least. That moment of overwhelming betrayal she’d felt in the space hadn’t been hers, so it had to belong to whatever was responsible.

Among the pantheons of Ashen Legacy, there was so much overlapping imagery and symbolism tied to the different gods and aspects that it could be genuinely difficult to separate some of them from one another. That was one of the reasons House Hollow and the Pale Reconciliation got mixed together here in Marrowfen. But betrayal… she only knew of a single entity that claimed that as one of its domains.

The problem was that it wasn’t an entity tied to any of the Houses. It was one of the Forgotten Thrones. And the Forgotten Thrones were invariably ancient existences—immeasurably powerful, immeasurably dangerous—with very little written about them. Too much time had passed since they walked the world, and even in the game they had only mostly been built up toward.

She would check in Sablewatch Hollow to see if the archives there held anything. If not… There was one person she might be able to turn to who should theoretically have a strong connection to all of that. A close friend. But that depended on whether she could even find her.

Vera brushed her thumb against Serel’s cheek again, watching the girl’s uncertain expression ease just slightly.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was reading too much into things. But beyond the mystery of how she’d ended up in this world and what her role was, it looked like she had more important ones to solve now.

“Serel,” she said as she lifted her hand to instead brush aside the girl’s fringe, “trust me when I say there’s nothing you could ever do to make me disappointed. You might not believe me, but when I was your age, I was the very epitome of a problem child. You’re a literal angel in comparison. And even if you weren’t, I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible for me to be disappointed in you. So please… don’t worry about those things.” She tried for a reassuring smile. “If not for yourself, then for me. Because seeing you worry hurts me too.”

Serel’s eyes went wide, as if the words were too big to fit into her understanding. But then, instead of replying, she leaned forward suddenly, wrapping her arms around Vera’s neck, whispering, “I don’t want you to hurt, Mommy.”

There was still a piece of Vera that felt awkward whenever she was embraced like this, but it was shrinking quickly with the passing days. Now, she let herself hold Serel fully, one hand resting against the girl’s small back. “Thanks, kiddo.”

She thought she should probably say more, to wrap up the conversation neatly—but for some reason, this felt like enough for the time being.

They stayed like that for a while, until Vera finally glanced back down at the table and their unfinished plates.

“You know,” she said, “if you don’t want to finish your meal, I can finish it for you. It’s getting cold.”

That got Serel to release her at once, spinning back to her food. A spark of hunger lit in her eyes. Vera chuckled to herself, watching as the girl dug in again. Vera did the same, enjoying the brief calm.

Of course, she’d figured it wouldn’t last.

By the time they were both nearly finished, a trio of footsteps crossed the room and stopped at their table.

Vera suppressed a sigh, turning away from watching Serel scoop up the last of her mash—pointedly avoiding the greens, which Vera realized might have been Gloria’s influence—and looked to the new arrivals.

Three of the Hollowstone Table members stood there, a few steps away, watching her closely.

It had only been a matter of time before they approached. She’d considered leaving early and making their escape, but that new stubborn part of her had refused the thought, and another part had simply wanted to let Serel finish her meal in peace.

“Do you need something?” she asked, surprised at how easily her voice slipped into a colder, harder edge.

One of the three, a tall man with scars running crooked across his nose, flinched and took half a step back. The other two—a stocky woman with close-cropped hair and heavy shoulders, and a lanky middle-aged fellow who looked more suited to a desk than a monster hunt—kept their expressions carefully neutral.

“We came to apologize,” the woman said, taking the front. “Our mate earlier caused trouble. Fool was drunk out of his skull, but he still shoved where he shouldn’t have. Our leader will hear of it and likely see him with a broken bone or two. You don’t have to worry about him making the same mistake any time soon.”

Vera’s brows rose slightly. “Is that so?”

Her gaze drifted to their tables. At least half their number had slipped out at some point, though she hadn’t noticed when.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Serel slowing her chewing, watching the exchange with what might have been something like curiosity.

Would the scene back at Hollowstone Table repeat itself?

The stocky woman regarded Vera for several seconds.

“Is there more?” Vera asked.

The woman’s face tightened. “…You new to Marrowfen?”

“What if I am?”

“You familiar with what folk like you did here before?”

A frown touched Vera’s brow. “…Folk like me?”

The scarred man laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder, as though warning her. She glanced back at him, then turned to Vera again. “Yeah. Hollow folk. Best be careful showing off like that. Not all of us appreciate it as much as we do.”

Vera leaned an arm against the table, expression flat. “You don’t seem all that fond of it yourselves.”

The woman’s jaw clenched into a scowl. “That’s not—” She stopped, then shook her head. “Just know that our leader will probably—”

She stopped again, but this time because of a loud crash that thundered through the room.

The tavern door burst inward, bone rattling loose as one of the Hollowstone Table members flew inside and hit the floor with a heavy crack. A scuffle raged just outside—shouts, boots pounding, the clatter of what might have been weapons—and the next instant a guard in bone-plate armor was hurled through the doorway, skidding across the floor to land in a heap beside the fallen Table member as more yells erupted.

The woman and others in front of Vera snapped their heads toward the commotion, eyes narrowing in alarm.

“What—?”

Vera frowned.

What now?