Alorne ✔️

Chapter 31

The floor feels a little cold beneath my feet. I guess that is a perk of living in a wooden house. My clothes are lying folded on my bed. The light shimmer of the white fur stands out and I let my fingers touch the soft fabric. Sighing and with a slight headache, I get dressed. With my armour under my arms, I make my way downstairs into the main hall.

Dozens of men and women chat whilst sitting at the long tables. Food is piled up on their plates, fruits and vegetables I have never seen before. The throne on the platform has been removed and replaced with two smaller seats and a table.

Beorn, Belethrorn and Fawnaya are already sitting at one of the tables up front. Fawn looks like her usual self, no traces of her being hammered remain. Beorn stares at his plate with his head clutched in his hands and Belethrorn seems a little dazed.

I mumble a good morning and take a seat. The boys only grunt in response and Fawn starts to chat right away.

"Could you, be uh, quiet?" I interrupt her as nicely as possible.

"Why?" She asks genuinely confused. I point to my head as an answer. It is pounding like crazy. Her mouth forms a soundless 'oh'.

"It's alright," I add softly, "not everyone here is gifted with the ability to just drink themselves to oblivion and not experience a hangover afterwards."

We eat our breakfast in silence, much to my relief. Fawn fastens my remaining armour pieces. With my cloak under my arm, my satchel over my shoulder and leaning on a large walking stick, I wait for my friends to join me.

"You guys ready?" I ask excitedly when Beorn approaches. He raises his eyebrows.

"Ready for what?"

"Move on? Go into the mountains?"

"Well, Arwyn, about that umm, could we move out after watching the tournament?" Beorn sounds hopeful, almost scared. His feet dance a little and he places his hand awkwardly in his neck.

"Sure, why not? You don't have to ask me like I would hit you for it. That's weird."

I completely forgot about the tournament. Seems like I had a little more to drink than I thought yesterday. "Oh, Beorn?" I call after him. He turns around with a smile, "could you help me get into my armour?"

He chuckles and makes his way back to me. "You still don't know where some of the parts belong, do you?" I shake my head. "Well, you better pay attention this time."

Beorn assembles every piece of my leather armour effortlessly, explaining the names of each piece and where to put in on. I am afraid he will have to explain it to me again before I can actually remember all of it. I slid my two tiny daggers in the leather straps on my underarm and one more in the inside of my boot.

Inside, the men and women start to cheer and they practically run towards the Pit. Eight of them carry the seats belonging to Darya and Jorah. The two of them walk behind the mass of people, happily talking about the gods know what. Darya spots me and waves.

"Are you staying for the Tournament?" she asks and leans back into Jorah. He throws his arms around her and smiles like an elf on High flyers. I have seen that plenty back in Nyr. High Flyers is the one illegal thing the guards can't get a grip on. A liquor brewed from Pegasus berries. One small vile is enough to knock you down for a whole day. It is especially popular with low living citizens. I once spoke with one of the Flyerjunkies, as we call them. He told me that High Flyers are his only way to escape his reality. A life in the gutters of Nyr without a chance to climb up the social or economic ladder. I found out that the poor man was thrown into the black cells of the castle. He had been accused of molesting me and been decapitated soon after. I never spoke with any other person on the streets ever again after that.