CHAPTER 88: THE RELIQUARY

The carriage wheels slowed to a stop, and the four of them stepped down one by one. Before them stood a grand establishment, its lantern-lit sign glowing softly against the evening sky.

The Whispering Orchard — the golden letters gleamed elegantly, as though the very name promised warmth and luxury within.

Ron, Lia, Selene, and Jax all paused for a moment, their faces lighting up at the sight.

"Wow..." Ron muttered under his breath, his amber eyes reflecting the glow of the sign.

Together, they pushed open the carved wooden doors and entered.

The soft fragrance of herbs and roasted spices filled the air, mingling with the quiet hum of chatter and the delicate notes of a string ensemble playing somewhere deeper inside. Almost immediately, a butler in a crisp black uniform approached, bowing slightly.

"Welcome, honored guests." His voice was polite yet carried a refined weight.

Selene stepped forward gracefully. "There is a booking for four. The name is Selene Raynhart."

The butler consulted a leather-bound book, then offered a warm nod. "Certainly, Lady Raynhart. Please, this way."

He guided them through the polished hall, past rows of glittering chandeliers and elegantly dressed patrons, before stopping at a table tucked near a wide window overlooking the softly lit city street.

"Your table, ma’am. I hope you enjoy your evening."

As they took their seats, Jax leaned back and let out a low whistle.

"So fancy..." he muttered, eyes wide in boyish awe.

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The plates were cleared one after another, laughter mixing with the gentle clinking of cutlery. When the butler finally returned, he placed down a gleaming silver tray with a flourish.

"The Whispering Orchard’s signature," he said, his voice carrying just the right note of pride. "The Cloudberry Tart."

The four leaned forward unconsciously. The tart was a jewel—its golden almond crust cradling a glossy, amber-orange filling that seemed to glow under the candlelight. A faint citrus tang wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet, nutty scent. A dollop of whipped cream crowned the center like snow upon a sunrise.

Jax’s mouth fell open. "I’m drooling already."

Selene smirked, folding her arms. "Well, of course. It was my choice, after all."

The first bite was enough to silence even him. The crisp crust gave way to a burst of flavor—sweetness wrapped in a lively tartness that danced across the tongue, chased by the richness of cream. It was unlike anything they had ever tasted, rare and fleeting, like the fruit itself.

For a few minutes, the table was quiet except for small murmurs of delight.

Jax leaned back with a satisfied groan. "Whooo... that was amazing. Worth every coin."

Selene lifted her chin in mock pride. "Naturally."

Ron and Lia exchanged a glance but said nothing, walking side by side as they left the restaurant, the evening breeze cooling their warmed cheeks.

As they stepped out of The Whispering Orchard, the night breeze swept through the streets, carrying the faint scent of roasted chestnuts from nearby stalls.

Selene brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright, time for the next stop. Let’s head to the weapon store—I need to pick up my custom staff."

Lia’s eyes widened slightly, as if remembering something. "Oh! You mentioned that once before, didn’t you? I never actually asked what kind of store it was."

Selene smirked, her tone playful. "Heh, it’s called The Reliquary. Not the kind of place you stumble into by chance. Small name, but every piece there is top-notch."

Jax let out a low chuckle, hands tucked into his pockets. "Yeah, I know that place. Been there once—it’s no joke. The craftsmanship there makes the big-name stores look like amateurs."

Ron, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke, his lips curving into a faint grin. "That sounds like my kind of store."

Lia glanced between them, curiosity written all over her face. "Now I’m even more interested."

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Meanwhile, in the quieter streets a short distance from The Reliquary, another figure moved with purpose.

Arin’s steps were uneven at first, his body still trembling faintly from earlier, but his eyes burned with manic focus. His gaze never left the path ahead, locked onto his destination.

"My Tempest Javelin is fine," he muttered to himself, lips curling into a sneer. "But a true protagonist... a destined one... should have a weapon that grows with him, that makes him unstoppable. One that will crush villains and bring heroines crawling at his feet."

His pace quickened, a feverish energy leaking from his leafy green eyes as he whispered the words like a promise.

"And that weapon will be the Black Thunder Spear."

A twisted smirk spread across his face, the reflection of street lanterns flickering in his eyes. He looked less like a chosen hero, and more like a predator finally catching the scent of prey.

The four finally stopped in front of a small but strangely enchanting shop tucked between taller buildings. Its sign gleamed faintly with an almost ethereal shimmer, the word Reliquary etched in elegant strokes across the wooden board.

Ron tilted his head back, taking in the sight with a small grin. "So this is the Reliquary, huh? Cool."

Lia stepped closer, her curiosity shining as she lingered at his side. "It looks... different. Like it’s hiding something inside."

Selene smirked knowingly and strode forward, her cloak fluttering behind her. "Well, don’t just stare. Let’s go. While I’m talking business, you two can browse for weapons."

"Oh yeah!" Jax pumped his fist, excitement sparking in his eyes—only to yelp when Selene’s hand shot out and grabbed his ear, tugging it sharply.

"Not you, mister," Selene said firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. "You already have your precious custom guns. Don’t even think about window-shopping. You are coming with me. "

Ron and Lia both snickered at the sight, exchanging amused glances as Jax whined dramatically.

Rubbing his ear, Jax sulked as the others laughed, but Selene didn’t give him room to argue. She pushed the door open, the soft chime of a bell echoing through the air. One by one, they stepped inside, the scent of aged wood, oil, and faintly humming enchantments washing over them.

The four stepped inside, and their eyes widened immediately. Rows upon rows of weapons lined the walls and stands—gleaming swords, polished shields, single-edged blades, and massive greatswords. Alongside them were racks of rifles and pistols, shelves stacked with magic tomes, and even displays of staffs and wands radiating faint enchantments.

The place was far larger than the storefront suggested. Lia’s brows furrowed, and a single thought crossed her mind. Space manipulation...

At the counter, Selene picked up a small brass bell and rang it. The gentle chime echoed, and a calm voice responded from the back.

"Coming..."

The door creaked open, and an elf stepped out. His long blonde hair was tied loosely, his green eyes hidden behind round, black-framed glasses. Despite his youthful face, there was a timeless weight to his presence—a calm, wise aura that filled the room.

He closed his eyes briefly as though sensing them, then smiled faintly. "Welcome to the Reliquary... oh, it’s you, Selene. And Jax." His gaze shifted, lingering on Ron and Lia. "And these two? Who might they be?"

Jax scratched the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. "Uh... hi, sir."

Selene’s lips curled in a playful grin. "Hi, Grandpa Isilme. I’m here to pick up my magic staff."

Before the elf could answer, a gruff, booming voice rumbled from the back. "Oi, Isilme! Who’s out there in the shop?"

Selene turned toward the doorway, raising her voice. "It’s me, Grandpa Durak! And I brought friends."

A rough chuckle echoed from inside. "Oh, it’s you, kiddo. The troublemaker boy with you too?"

Jax froze on the spot, going stiff like a soldier caught sneaking sweets.

Selene waved a hand quickly. "Don’t worry about him, Grandpa. He’s behaving himself this time."

"That’s good," Durak muttered, his voice fading as if he’d returned to his work.

Isilme adjusted his glasses and shook his head gently. "Durak doesn’t talk much these days. Always working. But Selene..." He tilted his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "You didn’t tell me about your new friends."

"Oh, right," Selene said brightly, turning to gesture toward her companions. "Let me introduce them properly, Grandpa. This is Lia Isolde, second princess of the Thesmeris Kingdom. And this—" she motioned to Ron, who gave a small nod "—is Ron Volkov, second prince of the Glimmereach Kingdom."

Isilme blinked, taken aback, before a low chuckle escaped him. "A prince and a princess? Well now... this shop hasn’t had guests of such standing in a long while."

Ron and Lia both bowed politely.

"Nice to meet you," they said in unison, their tones respectful despite the casual setting.

Isilme’s expression softened into a warm smile. "The pleasure is mine. Please, feel free to look at any weapons that catch your eye. Everything here has its own story."

Ron grinned, his eyes already darting toward a rack of blades. Lia’s curiosity shone through as she drifted toward the staves and books.

The two moved deeper into the shop, browsing with growing fascination.

Meanwhile, Jax had started edging away, his gaze flicking toward a set of gleaming pistols displayed behind glass. He tiptoed like a thief sneaking into a pantry—only to freeze when Isilme’s calm voice cut through the air.

"And where do you think you’re going, Jax?"

Jax stiffened, turning slowly with a sheepish grin. "N-nowhere, grandp—sir. Absolutely nowhere."

Isilme raised an eyebrow but kept his smile, the kind that carried both patience and a quiet warning. "Good. Best you keep it that way."

Selene covered her mouth, snickering at Jax’s panicked expression. Ron, glancing back, couldn’t help but smirk, while Lia tried—and failed—to stifle a small giggle.

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Selene and Jax stayed near the counter, chatting casually with Isilme, while Ron and Lia drifted deeper into the shop.

Ron’s eyes naturally wandered to the spears. He folded his arms. Well, I don’t really need another spear—I already have the Cinderbrand Lance... but it won’t hurt to take a look.

Lia, meanwhile, walked toward the single-edged blade section, her fingers brushing against hilts and scabbards, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

That was when Ron noticed it.

A spear—jet black, its shaft etched with faint, storm-like veins of dark energy—rested on a rack near the counter. The moment his gaze fell on it, his chest tightened. An odd repulsion surged through him, instinct screaming to stay away.

Still, something inside pushed him forward. Each step made the sensation stronger, like the air itself was resisting his approach. But when his hand finally closed around the weapon, the repulsion... vanished. Almost entirely.

Ron frowned, lifting the weapon. Weird... it felt like it hated me, but now it’s just... silent. He shook his head. I don’t even know why I picked it up. Whatever.

"Hey, Ron, what did you get?"

He turned to see Lia approaching. She held a slender, white single-edged blade, its faint glow illuminating her fingers.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You chose that sword?"

Lia nodded, glancing down at the blade with an oddly soft expression. "Mm. It felt... attractive to me somehow. Like it called out."

Ron tilted his head. "Attractive, huh?" He gave the dark spear in his hand another glance. "I wanted to ask about this one, too. Let’s take them both to the counter."

But just as they turned—

A furious voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.

"PUT THAT SPEAR DOWN, YOU BASTARD!!!"