"I didn't bring enough with me. Mind if one of you accompanies us back to collect the rest?"
Horizon's voice was steady, unfazed by the fine or the tense atmosphere around him. The subtle challenge in his words didn't go unnoticed, drawing even more attention as people waited to see how the guards would react to his boldness.
As Horizon's words left his mouth, a wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. Hidden behind smirks and hushed tones, the spectators sneered, mocking the group with biting words.
"Did you hear that? 'Come with me,' he says," one of them scoffed. "It's obvious they don't have the money. They're just stalling, hoping to sweet-talk the guard into lowering the fine once they're out of sight."
Another chimed in, voice dripping with disdain. "It's not the first time, either. This kind of stunt has happened plenty of times in past competitions—always the same tricks with these small-timers."
Someone else in the crowd let out a dry laugh. "They've got guts, I'll give them that. But seriously, facing Veilborne inside town without 10 Bullions in hand? They might as well have thrown in the towel already."
"I can't even blame them," added another, shaking their head. "Earning that kind of money in Eternia is no joke, especially for independent players and low-ranking guilds. Scraping together 10 Bullions? It's like squeezing water from a stone."
More whispers and chuckles followed, the crowd's harsh words cutting deeper as they continued to ridicule the group. For many, it was more than just a fine—it was about status, reputation, and survival in a world where wealth and power ruled.
And right now, Horizon's group looked like the perfect prey for mockery.
"You messing with us?" the guard sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the group. "If you can't produce 10 Bullions right now, all of you will be jailed."
Nightshade, Ironfist, Stormcaller, and the rest of the Veilborne Guild grinned in satisfaction from the sidelines. They had set this up perfectly—insulting them in town was a grave mistake, and now Horizon and his group were about to face the consequences of crossing Veilborne.
"This is your fault, thief," Nyx hissed under his breath, glaring at Lydia.
Lydia's face went pale, clutching Silphie tightly. "I don't want to get jailed. Horizon, Von, do something!"
Silphie, ever unfazed, muttered in her usual lethargic tone, "Do they have dessert in jail?"
Cappy raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "No, Silphie, there's no dessert in jail."
"Then I definitely don't want to go there," she said, her voice still monotone.
Horizon's mind raced. He didn't have enough Bullions on him, only 1,000 gil. The main stash, the bag of gold, was back at their house, carefully guarded by Frigid. He hadn't expected this confrontation—he hadn't expected *them. It was a rookie mistake, and next time, he'd make sure to bring enough gold to slap down and shut everyone up.
Lydia, who had been on the verge of panic just moments before, practically leaped with excitement. "Wow, you're amazing, Von! What did you do?"
Von puffed out his chest and raised his head, his voice full of pride. "Hohoho, it's just that I'm originally from here, so I know how to speak the elven tongue fluently. A little sweet talk goes a long way, you know."
Silphie clapped lazily, her lethargic expression unchanged, while Nyx shot a dry look at Von. "Looks like you're finally proving useful for once."
While the others praised Von, Horizon stood back, his gaze narrowing. Something wasn't right. That wasn't just a matter of talking in their language. He could tell there was more to it, but he decided not to press further—for now.
Meanwhile, the Veilborne guild, who had been watching with smug anticipation, now had their faces darkened with confusion and frustration. Nightshade, glaring at the unexpected turn of events, approached Horizon with a thin smile.
"This isn't over," Nightshade whispered coldly. "Enjoy your little victory while it lasts."
With a final sneer, he turned and motioned for his guildmates to leave.
Ironfist spat on the ground as he passed by. "Watch your back."
"You might've slipped away from this one," Stormcaller added, her eyes full of malice. "But when the competition starts, you'll be the first to fall."
Horizon remained silent, watching them leave, their threats lingering in the air.
Lydia stuck out her tongue. "Bleh!"
Von stretched lazily. "Let's ignore them. I'm starving, and I bet Frigid's hungry too."
The crowd slowly thinned, murmurs filling the air as they exchanged glances. Whatever Von had said to the guards had clearly worked. He must have connections—perhaps with the Noble Elves of Crownjade Woods, though that didn't quite add up. His skin, dark as midnight, contrasted sharply with the pale, almost ethereal complexion of the Crownjade Elves.
Whispers rippled through the onlookers.
"Could he be from another elven race?" someone mused.
"He must be," another answered. "The Crownjade Elves are all fair-skinned, but he carries the shadow of a different lineage."
Horizon felt that there was more to it than that. But right now, he followed his friends back to their lodging.