Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The four took a table near the window, where they could still see the lively street outside.

’’Welcome to our humble abode!”

A waitress in a crisp apron greeted them with a bright smile, handing over menus bound in soft leather.

’’Wow! Three handsome men!” The waitress secretly thought.

The pages were packed with options—hearty roasts, seasonal stews, and dishes that looked like miniature works of art.

They didn’t hold back.

Adam ordered a massive plate of flame-grilled beef ribs glazed with a honey-spice sauce, the meat so tender it fell off the bone at the lightest touch. Lux went for a golden roasted chicken seasoned with lemon thyme, served alongside creamy mashed potatoes and buttered green beans. Khione’s choice was a delicate seafood stew filled with shrimp, mussels, and tender chunks of white fish, the broth rich with garlic and herbs.

Blake, predictably, ordered something simple yet filling—a steaming bowl of noodles in a savory pork broth, topped with sliced boiled eggs and crisp scallions.

Nero, still feeling a celebratory mood, ordered a platter meant for two: slow-cooked lamb shanks bathed in red wine sauce, served with fresh-baked bread and a side of roasted vegetables. He made sure to share bites with whoever reached over.

As they ate, the warm atmosphere of the restaurant wrapped around them. The soft clinking of cutlery, the inviting scent of fresh food, and the chatter of the other patrons made the world outside their table feel pleasantly distant. They laughed easily—Adam teasing Nero for his extravagant order, Lux sharing a funny incident from training, and Blake quietly enjoying his meal while the others did the talking.

It was the kind of moment where time seemed to slow, letting them forget the battles, injuries, and trials they’d faced. Tonight, there was only good food, warm company, and the quiet comfort of being alive.

The warm summer air greeted them as they stepped out of the restaurant, the evening sky painted in hues of orange and violet, slowly giving way to the deep indigo of night. Lanterns strung between the buildings swayed gently in the breeze, casting golden pools of light onto the busy street. The entertainment district was in full swing now—musicians strumming lively tunes at the corners, merchants calling out their evening specials, and students from all over Glory Academy enjoying the reprieve from their grueling training schedules.

Nero, still in high spirits today, led the way down the cobbled street, a grin plastered on his face. Adam walked beside him, his gait confident and just a bit too casual—clearly already anticipating the drinks to come. Lux followed at a steady pace, hands in his pockets, scanning the lively crowd with quiet amusement. Blake trailed a step behind, his expression as unreadable as ever, though his half-lidded eyes betrayed the faint weariness that came from indulging in social activities he didn’t exactly volunteer for.

The pub they approached was well-known among both cadets and staff—The Rusted Tankard, a two-story tavern with large wooden beams supporting its high roof, and wide glass windows that glowed warmly against the darkening streets. A carved sign depicting a foaming mug and crossed swords hung above the entrance, swaying with the breeze. From inside, they could hear the rumble of laughter, clinking of mugs, and the distinct melody of a fiddle being played with enthusiasm if not perfect skill.

The moment they stepped inside, they were hit with a wave of warmth and the comforting scent of spiced ale and grilled meat. The tavern was packed—cadets in various uniforms lounged at tables, some already tipsy, while a few instructors sat in a corner booth, their expressions somewhere between amusement and resignation as they tolerated the youthful chaos around them. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath the crowd’s movements, and waitresses weaved expertly through the packed space, balancing trays of drinks and plates of food.

The four of them managed to find an empty booth near the back, slightly away from the loudest crowd but still close enough to feel the pub’s energy buzzing around them. Nero immediately flagged down a waitress with an easy smile.

”Four of your strongest ales!” he announced, holding up his fingers. ”And keep them coming.”

Adam grinned. ”Now you’re talking.”

Blake raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest—he simply leaned back in his seat, clearly content to let the others make the evening’s decisions. Lux chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. ”This is going to be one of those nights, isn’t it?”

The waitress returned quickly with four tall mugs, each brimming with frothy amber ale. The mugs were heavy, the liquid within swirling with a rich, malty scent that carried faint hints of cinnamon and clove. Nero grabbed his with both hands, raising it in a toast.

”To survival,” he said with a grin. ”And to drinking until we forget how close we were to not surviving!”

The others chuckled and clinked mugs.

The first round went down fast. The ale was strong but smooth, with a warmth that spread pleasantly through their chests. Adam was the first to call for the second round, and by then Nero’s cheeks already carried a faint flush. Lux, while clearly more measured, didn’t shy away from matching their pace, sipping steadily and keeping conversation flowing between bouts of laughter.

Blake, however, was another story. He nursed his drink slowly, clearly uninterested in trying to keep up. By the time the third round arrived, his eyes had taken on that distant, sleepy glaze. He leaned back in the booth, one arm draped over the backrest, and let the hum of conversation wash over him.

”You’re already done, aren’t you?” Adam teased, nudging him with an elbow.

”I’m fine,” Blake replied lazily... then promptly yawned and closed his eyes. Within minutes, his head tilted slightly to the side, his breathing evening out.

Nero snorted mid-drink. ”Did he seriously fall asleep already?”

Lux smirked, glancing at Blake’s peaceful face. ”Guess so. Should we wake him?”

”Nah,” Adam said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. ”Let the man rest. We’ll drink for him.”

They pushed Blake’s mug aside so it wouldn’t spill and continued.

The pub’s energy grew louder as the night deepened. A group of cadets at the center table started singing loudly, their voices off-key but full of enthusiasm. Someone began drumming their hands against the table to keep rhythm, and soon half the tavern joined in. Nero and Adam, in their increasingly inebriated state, decided they had to participate.

They stood, mugs in hand, and stumbled toward the makeshift singing circle. Lux, ever the responsible one, stayed behind with Blake, but he couldn’t help chuckling when Nero’s voice attempted to carry a verse he clearly didn’t know the words to. Adam, on the other hand, improvised his own lyrics entirely, earning a mix of laughter and mock outrage from the crowd.

When they returned to the booth, Nero slammed his mug onto the table with triumphant force, sloshing ale onto the wood.

”Victory!” he declared.

Lux rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself.

Another round appeared—Adam had apparently bribed the waitress with an extra point to keep their table stocked without needing to be asked. The mugs kept coming, and with them came stories. Adam told an exaggerated tale about his last duel, complete with wild hand gestures and sound effects. Nero spoke about how his team adventure went.

Each story was met with laughter, the kind that shook their shoulders and made them forget the weight of the days behind them.

At one point, a small crowd gathered near their booth—not for Blake, who still slept soundly, but for Nero and Adam, who had taken to arm wrestling. The table shook under the force of their match, mugs rattling dangerously. Lux had to steady Blake’s mug to keep it from tipping.

Nero won the first round. Adam demanded a rematch. Nero won again, though barely, and Adam swore he’d get stronger just to crush Nero’s smug grin the next time.

As the night wound on, the heat of the alcohol wrapped around them like a blanket, blurring the edges of the world into a comfortable haze. The pub was still buzzing with life—cadets challenging each other to drinking contests, staff members quietly enjoying their own mugs in the corner, and a small group dancing to the lively fiddle music.

’’Time to head back don’t you think?”

’’Yeah I agree.’’ Lux responded favorably while Adam clicked his tongue. He would have loved to continue but he guess that tonight celebration should end here for tonight.