Soren’s words settled down onto everyone present, subverting their expectations completely.

  Remi’s hand, which had just been raised in agreement, lowered fully down to the wooden table. Soren’s eyes landed on Jorge, who didn’t look offended at his refusal, only a bit confused.

  Elise quietly closed her book that she had put down, leaning forward in interest. Faris frowned while he shifted his weight against the bar, watching Soren with a faint look of disappointment in his eyes.

  Jorge eventually broke the silence, and spoke in a calm tone, wanting to understand his refusal. “You won’t?”

  Soren didn’t look at him directly, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the window behind them. “No.”

  Asta tilted her head slightly in confusion, studying him as if his answer might change if she waited long enough, or gave him time to think.

  “Explain,” Jorge said, exhaling slowly.

  Soren drew a slow breath, before continuing, eyes still focused on the window. “It’s a tournament, and we agreed on three missions before you guys would help me.”

  Remi frowned, then nodded slowly before she spoke. "That's true, but Soren, this isn’t just a tournament. It’s so much more than-”

  “It’s duels and nobles drinking wine while people clap.” Soren cut in, leaving no room for argument.

  “You’re not from Lavon, so I understand if you don’t understand the scale of this. But Soren… this could change everything for us.” Remi said softly, looking a bit hurt after he interrupted her.

  He looked at her then, not angry, but his voice seemed a bit more strained than usual.

  “Maybe for you guys, but for me, it’s a distraction.”

  “A distraction from what?” Asta asked gently, shifting in her seat.

  Silence gathered around him as the group waited for his answer. His fingers pressed into the edge of the table as he grit his teeth slightly, unseen to the rest. He hadn’t meant for this to become a topic of discussion. He hadn’t meant for it to surface at all.

  “I don’t have time.” He said softly, his voice strained even more now.

  The tone of his words shifted the room, as the group began to piece together that there was something far more serious underlying.

  “Time for what?” Faris asked, his tone gentle but filled with genuine curiosity.

  Soren stood up, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor. The sound wasn’t necessarily loud, but it felt violent in the midst of the room's rising tension.

  “For this,” he said, gesturing faintly around them as he shook his head. “For festivals or recognition. I don’t see the point in playing warrior in front of a bunch of noble houses.”

  He began to pace slowly around where he sat. It wasn’t frantic, but it was restless. He seemed like someone trying to outrun a thought he didn’t like.

  “Every day I sit here,” he continued, his voice softer now, “every job we take that isn’t leading somewhere — is another day wasted.”

  “Wasted how?” Elise asked while she rose as well, her eyes sharp as she glared at him.

  Soren looked around for a moment, before sighing heavily.

  “You all know… that I have things I need to settle in Eirland.”

  “That’s not new,” Remi said evenly, trying to calm the room a little.

  “No. It’s not. Which is why I don’t understand how you’re all so comfortable stopping, when you know I can’t afford to.”

  “We’re not stopping,” Remi answered softly, meeting his gaze. “We’re advancing. You're advancing.”

  “Advancing where? Into politics?” He said sarcastically, shaking his head once again. His tone was one of faint disbelief.

  “Into visibility. Into connections. Into leverage that may end up helping you as well.”

  “Leverage takes time, Remi, and time is the one thing I can’t afford.”

  “Charge in blindly to whatever it is you’re planning, and you won’t have any time at all.” Jorge countered, his voice slightly disappointed, yet he could understand Soren’s frustration.

  That made him close his mouth before he could speak. Soren folded his arms, as if trying to hold back whatever he planned to say next. His hands were trembling slightly, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

  Remi sighed softly, before speaking, her voice a bit more careful now.

  “This is about your mother.”

  He clenched his jaw, and he didn’t respond. He looked upon the group, each of them holding a different expression. He had told them what happened to his mother, but he had never gone into the severity of it, at least not with any of them beside Remi. Though from looking at her, it seemed even she did not understand the full extent of its effect on him.

  “How bad is it?” she asked. Whatever sharpness that may have been present was now gone from her tone.

  He turned his head to the left slightly, looking down as his eyes fixed on the sword still sheathed at his side.

  “I’m handling it.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Jorge said, a hint of concern now present in his voice.

  “I didn’t ask for your help, or your pity.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “That’s not what I’m offering.” Jorge replied bluntly.

  Soren’s composure thinned at his response, and he stepped a bit further away from the table. “I don’t need this.”

  “Don’t need what, Soren?” Remi asked.

  He faced her fully now. He was trying his best to prevent an outburst, but his temper had begun to stretch thin.

  “This idea that I can afford to play games and run off wherever you guys decide you wanna go.”

  “We aren’t playing. None of this is a game to us. It could be an opportunity for you too, if you’d just listen to what we’re saying.”

  “It’s a festival, Remi.”

  “It’s the capital of Lavon.”

  “Filled with nobles who won’t lift a finger to help anyone unless it benefits them.”

  “And what do you think we’ve been doing? Working for free? That’s not how the world works."

  “This isn’t about coin, and you know it.” Soren shot back, temper now rising despite himself.

  “Then what is it about? This could be a better way for you to get to your mother.”

  He hesitated, before clenching his fists in anger.

  “She doesn’t have forever!”

  It was a guttural, desperate shout which he had let out. A sound born of pure, shattered rage, mixed with sadness and worry. The room fell into stillness as the words faded, with no one daring to speak.

  After a few moments, Soren continued, his voice hoarse and desperate.

  “I don’t know how much time she has... I don’t even know where she is. All I know is that every day I’m not moving forward… it’s her life on the line, not mine.”

  He wasn’t shouting at them. He wasn't even angry anymore. His words resembled that of pleading more than anything else, and that was what made it worse.

  “You think I care about applause, or about banners, or recognition from nobles?”

  “No.” Remi said softly, her own voice trembling slightly from his outburst. She looked down at her hands, eyes glassy.

  “But that’s what it sounds like when you say this is an opportunity.”

  “It is,” Jorge replied steadily, glancing over at Remi’s troubled expression, before facing Soren once again. “For all of us.”

  “And what if I don’t want it?”

  “That’s the problem,” Elise said quietly, sharp eyes landing on him

  He looked at her in confusion, and met her gaze head on. She spoke again, her voice sharp, as if she was trying to give advice while accusing him at the same time.

  “You keep talking about yourself as an individual, like you’re going off back to Eirland to save your mother on what’s, frankly, a suicide mission. But not once-not once have you even considered the fact that we would join you.”

  Soren’s eyes widened at her words, and he briefly glanced around at everyone present in the room, before lowering his head and clenching his fists, his own eyes glassy now.

  “That doesn’t make it right… This is my responsibility. It doesn’t mean I have to drag the rest of you into it. We haven’t even known each other for a month, and you expect me to believe you’d put your own lives on the line to help me…”

  “That’s because we would. Do you want to know why?” Remi asked, taking a breath before continuing.

  “Because you’ve already done the same for us, Soren. You’ve put your life on the line, to save people that you didn’t even know for a month- hell, not even two days.”

  She looked up at him finally, her blue eyes still teary, but there was a fire in them that wasn’t there earlier. She continued, anger and determination in her voice as she clenched her fists.

  “So… don’t give us that crap. In the little time we’ve been together, you’ve helped us, you’ve lived with us, you even fought alongside us. You… helped me move past something… that I wasn't sure I’d ever be able to move past. And if you’re gonna try and make excuses, at least try harder, because everything you’re saying right now is BULLSHIT!”

  Soren felt his heart drop in his chest at her words. Her voice trembled a bit, as she leaned against the table with both arms, head lowering as she slowly sat down. The rest of the group didn't move, still in shock from the turn of events. Asta and Faris both shared wide eyes, while Elise nodded subtly in agreement with Remi.

  Soren stood unmoving, looking at the ground as he clenched his fists from guilt and embarrassment. He wanted to look at Remi, to say something, to maybe even apologize.

  But in that moment, all he could do was stare at the ground in silence, shame ridden across his features.

  “I understand how you feel Soren, I really do. But, if you walk away from this,” Jorge said carefully after a moment, “you’re not just declining a tournament.”

  Soren met his gaze slowly, not wanting to face him after all that had been said.

  “You’re separating from us, kid.”

  The words were not an accusation, rather they were presented as purely factual. Soren grit his teeth as he responded, knowing there was no point to argue against. His voice was low, cracking softly.

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  The question lingered for a moment, before Asta stepped forward, closing some of the space between Soren and the others.

  “What if the tournament really helps? House Valenne, House Silverglade, even the Knight’s Guild. You think none of them have reach into Eirland?”

  Soren didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. They were right about one thing. This was still a foreign land, one that he didn’t understand fully. Not in the ways they would. The ways that mattered.

  “Recognition buys access,” Jorge continued, his tone similar to that of a mentor explaining basic concepts to a student who only now agreed to listen.

  “Access buys information. Information finds people.”

  The logic was sound, even if part of him disagreed. He hated that.

  Remi’s voice softened as she finally spoke, looking at Soren once again. He still couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “You told me yesterday… that I wasn’t like him.”

  He swallowed heavily, and after a moment he finally glanced at her.

  “You told me not to let rage decide for me.”

  Her eyes held steady as their gazes met.

  “Don’t let fear decide for you.”

  The words had an impact on him. He looked down at the table once again, noticing the faint scratches carved by years of mugs, blades, and restless hands. No one spoke, giving Soren a chance to process everything with a clear head. They started looking a bit doubtful as the moment dragged on.

  “This can’t become a delay,” he said at last. “We go, and we compete. We don’t linger any longer than we have to. If we do, I’ll have to go off on my own, no hard feelings.”

  Jorge nodded once, a small grin beginning to form. “Agreed.”

  “No noble contracts unless it gives us an advantage. No extended stays unless it directly benefits finding my mother.”

  “Agreed.” Faris said lightly, nodding in approval.

  “And if we happen to make any allies?” Remi asked, head tilted as she glanced towards Jorge.

  “Then we use them.” He answered, voice gruff, but the grin on his face revealed his underlying excitement.

  The tension that had been present in the room didn’t disappear, but it had changed shape. It became shared amongst all of them rather than an individual burden.

  Soren looked at each of them, not merely as adventurers that had taken him in for a few jobs, but rather as people who had chosen to stand beside him without being asked, in spite of refusal.

  Jorge extended his hand over the table, towards it’s middle.

  “For the Hollow Stag.”

  One by one, the others came forward, and placed their hands over his. Remi’s hand came last, before she glanced at Soren expectantly.

  Soren looked at the stack before him, then narrowed his eyes and added his own.

  “For her.”

  The decision was made, and the group pulled their hands back, a shared feeling of excitement between them.

  Jorge smirked largely, and raised his mug into the air as he spoke loudly.

  “We ride at dawn.”