Marvin and William stepped out of the alleyway into the bustling city streets. The echoes of their ret battle had faded, leaving only the question of their move.

  "How are we supposed to find someone who knows about the warrior?" William asked, crossing his arms.

  "Fate will guide us," Marvin replied.

  As they walked, Marvin spotted a dimly lit bar between two old buildings.

  "I’ll che there," he decided.

  William raised an eyebrow. "The bar? Are y to get drunk?"

  Marvin sighed. "No. I do not drink. Wait outside—you are not old enough to go in."

  William huffed but leaned against the wall outside as Marvin stepped ihe st of aged wood and ale filled the air. He walked to the ter and sat down, sing the room.

  "What would you like to drink?" the bartender asked.

  "A water will do," Marvin said.

  As he sipped, a loud versation to his left caught his attention.

  "That’s a lie!" a man excimed. "All the warriors died during the war."

  "There ’t be any survivors," anreed.

  A figure in a top hat leaned forward, his voice fident. "It is true! I saw a warrior myself."

  The table fell silent.

  "He wasn’t very open," the man tinued, "but he told me he once wielded a battle axe."

  "If you know so much about him," another man scoffed, "then why don’t y him to us?"

  The man iop hat hesitated. "I... ot."

  "Oh, maybe because he’s not real!" anhed, prompting the others to join in.

  The man, unfazed, simply shrugged. "Believe what you want."

  He stood and walked out. Marvin immediately followed, stepping outside to where William was waiting.

  "William! Did you see a man with a top hat leave here?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "Which way did he go?"

  "Left."

  "Follow me. He’s the key to finding the warrior."

  William’s eyes widened. "Wait… really?!"

  "Yes. Let’s go."

  They hurried through the streets and spotted the man sitting on a bench. Marvin and William approached him.

  "Hey, Top Hat," William called.

  The man looked up. "Who are you? What do you want?"

  "I want to know more about the warrior you spoke of," Marvin said.

  The man frowned. "Why? You’re just going to ugh at me like the others."

  "No. I am ied."

  The man studied them before sighing. He stood up. "e. We ’t let the guards hear us talking about this. Last time, I almost got arrested."

  "Whoa," William muttered.

  "Yeah."

  They moved to a quieter spot.

  "So what do you want to know about Afleton?" the man asked.

  "Afleton?" William repeated. "The warrior’s name is Afleton?"

  "Yes."

  Marvin narrowed his eyes. "I found his battle axe in a jail cell. It once beloo him, but now I wield it."

  The man’s eyes lit up. "Yes… Yes! He told me he left his axe behind."

  "Do you know where he is now?" Marvin pressed.

  "I do. He was here in N?rsēville for a time. He told me he was heading to the own—Chērol."

  "Chērol?" William mused. "Sounds like a safe town."

  "Do not assume," Marvin warned.

  "We will head to Chērol tomorrow," he decided.

  The man nodded. "You bunk with me for the night."

  Marvin and William followed him to his modest home.

  "It’s cramped, but it’s better than nothing."

  They settled in for the night.

  M arrived, and Marvio shake William awake.

  "William, wake up. It’s time to tinue our journey."

  William groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, Old Man."

  As they stepped outside, their host stood in the doorway.

  "No goodbyes?" he asked with a smirk.

  "See ya," William said.

  "Goodbye," Marvin added.

  The man crossed his arms. "May I ask why you want to find Afleton?"

  Marvin fell silent, his expression unreadable.

  "For my own reasons."

  The man nodded. "Fair enough."

  Without another word, Marvin and William left N?rsēville, heading toward their destination—Chērol.