On the exact same day, Zehron is working hard and diligent as always.
During the midday break, Zehron sat in his usual spot near the dock's edge, quietly eating his meal. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the bustling harbor, where workers rested in scattered groups, chatting and laughing between bites of food.
As always, Orien and his other friend Vaelen settled beside him.
Orien stretched his arms lazily before glancing at Zehron, eyes sharp with curiosity. "So," he started, tearing a piece of bread, "are you going to tell us what happened the other day?"
Vaelen leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "Yeah. The guards came out of nowhere and beat the hell out of you. Did you get into trouble or something?"
Zehron remained quiet for a moment, chewing slowly, as if weighing his words. He wasn't one to share much, but he also knew Orien wouldn't drop the topic so easily.
Finally, he exhaled, setting his food down. "No," he said simply. "I didn't do anything."
Orien raised an eyebrow. "Didn't look that way. People don't just get dragged out and beaten for no reason."
Zehron's jaw clenched slightly. He had no desire to talk about it—not the pain, not the humiliation, and certainly not the reason behind it.
"Must've been something serious," Vaelen muttered. "They didn't even say why?"
Zehron shook his head, looking away toward the waters. He didn't want to lie, but he also couldn't tell them the truth.
Because if he did, they'd know about Elvienne.
And the last thing he wanted was for anyone to drag her name into this.
Orien tore off another piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully before giving Zehron a knowing look.
"And… what about your lady?" he asked, keeping his voice casual. "I saw you walking alone today. Usually, she drops you off in the morning, but today, I didn't see her."
Zehron's fingers stilled around his food. He kept his gaze on the water, silent for a moment before replying, "She can't come… due to certain personal reasons."
Orien and Vaelen exchanged a glance.
Orien leaned in slightly. "Personal reasons, huh?"
Orien frowned. "Is she alright?"
Zehron nodded but didn't elaborate.
Orien sighed, resting his elbow on his knee. "You know… I always wondered," he said, lowering his voice. "Why does she always wear those long dresses? Covers everything from top to bottom, except her eyes. It's like she's hiding something."
Orien smirked. "Maybe she's secretly ugly."
Zehron shot him a sharp look, and Orien quickly put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just a joke."
Zehron exhaled a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Orien," he muttered, glancing at him. "Do you know how to make fast money?"
Orien blinked at the sudden change of topic.
"Or at least move up the ranks?" Zehron added, his voice calm but firm.
Orien leaned back, studying him. "That's a dangerous thing to ask, Zehron," he said after a moment. "What exactly are you planning?"
Orien's eyes widened dramatically as he suddenly gasped, slapping his hand on the table.
"I got it!" he exclaimed, leaning in with an exaggerated look of realization. "You're in debt, aren't you?"
Zehron gave him a blank stare.
Orien nodded to himself, as if piecing together some grand mystery. "That's it, isn't it? You borrowed from some shady guys, and now the loan sharks are after you! That's why they sent those guards—to drag you to them!"
Vaelen burst into laughter. "Oh, that's rich! Imagine Zehron getting tangled with loan sharks!"
Orien, ignoring Vaelen, gasped again. "And that's why you're suddenly asking how to make fast money! You need to pay them off before they break your legs!"
Zehron exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temple. "Orien."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Vaelen was still laughing. "Come on, you have to admit, it would've made a great story."
Zehron simply shook his head and returned to his food, while Orien grinned, clearly pleased with his own theory—even if it was completely wrong.
Zehron set down his cup with a dull thud, his expression unreadable as he finally spoke.
"I'm not in debt," he said clearly.
Orien squinted at him. "You sure? Because you look like a man who just realized he owes money to a very angry man with a very large stick."
Zehron just stared at him, his gaze empty, distant almost melancholic.
Vaelen leaned in and waved a hand in front of Zehron's face. "You good? You look like someone stole your last piece of bread."
Orien clicked his tongue. "Or worse, like someone promised him a gold coin and gave him a rock instead."
Zehron said nothing. He simply picked at his food with all the enthusiasm of a man who had lost the will to eat.
Orien, sensing the mood shift, cleared his throat. "Alright, alright. You wanna make fast money? There are ways." He leaned in as if revealing a great secret.
Zehron raised a brow, finally paying attention.
Orien held up one finger. "You could join underground fights! Break a few ribs, hopefully not yours and get paid!"
Vaelen grinned. "Yeah, but with his luck, the first guy he fights will be built like a mountain and named something terrifying like 'Bonecrusher.'"
Zehron gave them a flat look.
Orien held up a second finger. "Or you could gamble. Win big, make easy money!"
Zehron sighed. "And if I lose?"
"Then you'll be in debt!" Orien said cheerfully. "And then my loan shark theory won't be wrong!"
Zehron picked up a piece of bread and lightly threw it at Orien's head.
Orien caught it effortlessly and took a bite, completely unfazed. "Alright, alright. Third option, become a bard, but wait..can you even sing?"
Zehron deadpanned, "No."
"Ah," Orien nodded sagely. "Then that one's out. But if you want to move up the ranks? Yeah, no. That's impossible."
Zehron exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. He expected this answer. But hearing it still made his chest feel heavy.
Orien leaned back and smirked. "But hey, at least now you know your options....getting punched, going broke, or embarrassing yourself in public. Pick your poison."
Vaelen chuckled. "Great choices. Real inspiring."
Zehron just shook his head. Maybe he should've just kept quiet
Zehron sighed inwardly, realizing he needed more information. If he wanted to find a way to rise above his current status, he had to endure their ridiculous banter for a little longer.
He leaned forward slightly. "How do nobles even become nobles?"
Orien and Vaelen both blinked at him as if he had just asked whether the sky was blue.
"…They just inherit it," Orien said, his tone slow and exaggerated. "You know, parents pass it down, and poof! You're noble."
Vaelen nodded, biting into his bread. "Yeah, the throne just gets passed down the family line. That's how it's always been."
Zehron sighed, already knowing that much. "I get that. But… has there ever been a case where someone from a low rank became a noble?"
Orien and Vaelen exchanged glances before shrugging.
"Well," Orien said, dragging out the word. "There is one way."
Zehron perked up slightly.
"You marry one," Jareth finished, grinning. "That's about the only way a commoner climbs the ranks."
Orien suddenly smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Speaking of which…" He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Did you see the way she looked at you?"
Zehron blinked, his expression blank. "Who?"
Orien gasped dramatically. "Oh, please. The lady—the noblewoman. Aythea." He wiggled
his brows, grinning. "Maybe even a noble like her couldn't resist the charm of Zehron."
Vaelen snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "Yeah, yeah! You saw how she was looking at you, right? That wasn't just curiosity, my friend. That was interest."
Zehron exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You two are ridiculous."
"Oh, come on." Orien nudged his shoulder. "You're tall, you've got that mysterious, broody vibe going on, and animals love you for no reason—that's the stuff of legends."
Vaelen chuckled. "And if you marry into nobility, that's one way to rise up, huh? Just saying."
Zehron let's out a sigh... "I am not going to marry a noblewoman for that purpose."
"Not yet," Orien teased, winking.
Vaelen grinned. "Who knows? Maybe she's already planning your wedding dress."
Zehron finally gave them both a flat, unimpressed stare. "I'm leaving."
Orien laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him back down. "Oh, relax! We're just messing with you. But seriously, what is going on? You never ask questions like this."
Zehron hesitated, his expression darkening for just a moment before he simply said, "I just need to know."
Orien and Jareth exchanged another glance but, for once, didn't push further.
Vaelen leaned back with a thoughtful hum. "Well, if you're serious about moving up in life, marriage isn't the only way. It's just the easiest."
Orien nodded. "Yeah, but the other ways aren't exactly easy—or even possible."
Zehron looked up. "What other ways?"
Orien smirked. "Oh, now you're interested?"
Jareth grinned. "Alright, listen up, future noble."
Vaelen leaned in, lowering his voice slightly as if about to share a grand secret.
"There are only a few ways for a commoner to rise in rank." He ticked off his fingers. "One—you marry into nobility, but we already covered that." He waggled his brows, and Orien stifled a laugh.
"Two," Vaelen continued, "you do something legendary, like saving a high-ranking noble's life or winning some grand war."
Orien scoffed. "Yeah, because we all know how many wars are just waiting for some random dock worker to become a hero."
"Exactly," Vaelen grinned. "And three…" He paused for effect.
Zehron raised a brow, waiting. "And?"
Vaelen sighed dramatically. "Well, this one's a bit trickier… You have to be chosen by a noble house. Like, adopted into it. But that's basically a fairytale."
"Yeah," Orien added. "Unless you've got some insane talent that a noble wants, no one's gonna pick a random commoner and just adopt him."
Zehron mulled over their words, his fingers idly tapping the table. So marriage, war heroism, or noble favor… None of these were easy, and some were downright impossible.
Orien, seeing his thoughtful expression, smirked. "So? Which one are you choosing? Should we start looking for noble ladies who need a husband?"
Zehron exhaled sharply. "I just said—"
Vaelen laughed. "Oh, lighten up! But seriously, what brought all this on?"
Zehron was silent for a moment, then stood up, stretching. "It's nothing."
Vaelen gave him a knowing look but didn't push further. "Well, whatever you're planning, just don't do anything stupid."
Orien chuckled. "Or at least invite us to watch."
Zehron shook his head, already regretting this conversation. But one thing was certain—if he wanted to be with Elvienne, he had to find a way up.
And he didn't have the luxury of waiting.