Tavern of Witchita

3 | Kingdom of Lucerr

‘This smell… It's familiar...’

The beautiful aroma of lavender overruled her mother's brewing room. Both empty and half-filled bottles were found willy-nilly on every counter, a couple of butterflies surrounding them.

Weaved boxes filled with an assorted of exotic ingredients garnished the countertops along with two bloomed, hanging plants.

Her mother's brewing room was the most enchanting area of the whole house – of the whole world even.

A hefty cauldron sat in amidst it all, half-full with bubbling liquid.

Her mother's soft voice lingered.

“Narra, sweetie. Can you lend your mom a hand?”

Her periwinkle-purple witch hat settled softly on her head, matching well with her sleek mahogany hair. The warm, comfortable aura she gave off had always been Narra's favorite part of her.

She was an exact mimic. Indeed her one and only mother: Witchita Stockholm.

“Okay, how can I help?” The little girl bounced gleefully, receiving a soft smile from her caretaker.

Witchita leaned down to her daughter's height.

“Listen here, darling. I'm making a medicinal liquid to soothe people when they feel overwhelmed. What do think I should put in?”

The little brunette placed her finger to her lips. Her eyebrows tightened, pondering immensely about it for a while. Hopefully, all her time spent studying herbology won't be a waste.

Recalling the various berries, herbs, and strange add-ons, Narra finally finished thinking. The child's face lit up, gleaming.

“I know!”

She aimlessly wandered around the brewing room, only halting to pick a few items as her little hands clutched various ingredients at once. Witchita watched proudly at her little girl's efforts. The test didn't seem too difficult for a young child.

Narra returned to the cauldron, stepping on a stool as she dropped in her chosen ingredients. The mixture inside gurgled and she waited, staring deeply into the pot in hopes of success.

An aromatic mist emitted from the mixture as it slowly shifted colors. Narra smiled at her work, turning to her mother as she was scooped up into her arms. Witchita nuzzled the child's cheek into hers releasing a couple of giggles of joy.

“Great job!”

-

Scrunching noises radiate from the leaf-filled ground as a pair of black eyes stare aimlessly upon walking.
Two men lead the way, one is a traveler and one is a demon. A satisfied smile shows on Norman's lips as he strolled.

Horns looks over his shoulder. Eyes peek back at Narra, iris yellow while its pupils remain black; a standard trait of a demon. Slowing down his walking pace, he leaves Norman to take the lead as he walks beside the female.

Narra smiles at the notice of his presence.

“Yes, Horns? How can I help you?”

The demon stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants, a relaxed smirk on his face.

“Nothing really, I just wanted to walk by my buddy.”

Narra snickers at him, her eyes now focused ahead of the path Norman is leading them on.

“Your way of words is strange,” she says.

“And you talk too formally,” Horns argues. “Lighten up Narra we're all friends here.”

Narra merely gives him a glance in acknowledgment and continues to focus on the road.

It's somewhat reassuring to see Horns return to being his signature, cheeky and reckless self. With the presence of someone new, the guy tends to act like a completely different person, but it seems that he and Norman are on good terms now.

Eyes trailing over to the unusually silent white-haired, she observes his persona.

Narra hasn't known him for long. From her observances, the young lad does his best to appear dependable to people, but he's quite kind inside. The witch has seen him help out a few animals before, maybe even people since he is indeed an adventurer.

The air around them grows humid which is strange considering they're in a forest. A bead of sweat drips off her forehead as she wipes it off with her arm.

The girl slides the hood off, letting the fresh forest air cool her down. So that's why she felt hot.

As Narra strolls with her companions, she notices that leaving her home wasn't as scary as she made it to be. Norman is probably used to leaving; not staying too long at once place and moving to another only to repeat the cycle.

They haven't even reached the mainland yet; in fact they're quite far from it and still in the outskirts of Chrono.

The kingdom is unfamiliar to her despite being a citizen. The main democracy was held in the central cities. Anywhere else was discluded as a pig-pen for the poor.

The snow-haired male kneels down, confusing the two people behind.

“What's wrong?” Horns asks.

As the pair take a closer look, the Norman's just cutting a few odd-looking mushrooms from the soil.

“No, nothing, ” He explains. “I just needed to pick these up for a couple of copper, maybe iron.” Norman closes his pocket knife and stuffs it back into his bag.

He scans the appearance of the mushrooms, trying to identify it.

Narra steps forward, kneeling down to take a better look at the plant her friend obtained. Horns peers above her shoulder.

The large head of the mushroom is dyed a muggy purple, cracks decorating its top like baked bread. Underneath is a network of pink strings just above the inch-long stem. The smell of raw fish and peanuts linger around it.

“Those are Gaia mushrooms,” she explains. “As its name suggests, they're named after this forest and can only be found here. Those taste amazing when roasted.”

The two males look at her in astonishment. It's a wonder where she got all that knowledge from. Maybe books?

“Woah, it could be worth a dozen iron then!” Norman gleams, one-by-one placing the mushrooms in his bag.

Narra and Norman stand up and the three continue on their path to the central city. Norman would most likely be exchanging his money and mushrooms there.

To pass time, the group make silly jokes along the way, telling stories about past experiences as a way of entertainment. It brings a smile to their faces, maybe even a couple of laughs.

Soon enough, the gallops and neighs of horses cloud their sentences. Norman stops talking and Horns frowns. Eyebrows knitted, the demon bites his lip and glares onto the ground. Narra gives them a worried glance.

Looking over to the source of the noise, they are met with at least six demons on horses. The clothing they wore bear similarities to Horns’ outfit. However, gold sigils decorate their sleeves and a badge of a neighboring kingdom hung on their chest.

They're near the border between Lucërr and Chrono but it's still unlikely for an armed army of demons to openly arrive here.

There's no softness in their gazes.

Narra scavenges through her memory for possible people she could have wronged. No memory of them stirred, not that she has left her Tavern before. Norman's just as confused as she is.

Their expressions remain cold as they leer at Horns’ presence. Horns doesn't spare them a glance and turns his head elsewhere. Now it's clear who they're after.

He can't just ignore them though – Horns is aware of that much. Norman and Narra look at him concerned, frustrated even. What trouble is happening now? Such a nuisance.