Sometimes, Zaveid felt odd entering a city. Maybe that was because he forewent the gate in favour of leaping onto one of the guard towers flanking it, but then again, he rather felt he did not like cities much. From his perch, he took a moment to study Lastonbell; not much had changed, even though everything had. He still saw the old Stonebury before his mind's eye, a frontier village of just a few dozen people living in a handful of buildings around the fields. One could have put five or more Stoneburys into a single district of what he beheld. Perhaps this was what human elders meant when they said they were getting old.

Zaveid shook off those thoughts and soared into the streets below, light as a breeze for the moment; some passersby shuddered or huddled deeper into their coats. Spring may be close, but it remained cold outside. Zaveid, hardened by many years spent in the wilderness, barely even noticed.

He spent over a week with Aifread and his gang before parting ways with them, now he was here, having decided it was about time he showed his face after agreeing to assist the Bloodwings. Three months passed since he last saw Velvet and Laphicet.

Wandering the streets, Zaveid could not help but muse; it had been a weird last year. The original Calamity returned from beyond, more or less, and brought along a god he used to hate but who turned out to be a decent guy while not on a worldending bender. That was as far from normal as he could imagine it to be, but then again, times seemed to be odd in general.

The siblings had not given him a place to go to beside Lastonbell itself, so he considered asking one of the local seraphim; he would have done it too, but his stroll carried him past a pair of housewives gossipping. Which was almost as useful as asking someone, really.

"Did you go yet?"

"I did, just yesterday."

"And? Is it true? Can you really speak to the seraphim there?"

"It is! I had a long talk with this sweet older lady who lives around here, not that we could see her normally."

"Really? It's so hard to believe, even with so many people swearing on it. How can you tell she was a seraph?"

"Oh, you won't believe it! She showed me this beautiful spell where she formed a flower out of ice without even touching it!"

"I'm so jealous! I really need to find the time to go, too!"

He tuned them out at that point and began listening to other gossip, having less of a hunch and more of a certainty. Of course those two would think of turning a god's power into a business model. He would have laughed at anyone else suggesting something that brazen, but hey, they were the actual gods, so more power to them. Or not.

Some more careful listening told Zaveid that the Crowe's Nest, and whoever thought of that pun deserved both a medal and a whack on the head, had appeared by and fused with Randgriz Inn, subsuming the neighbouring buildings. It showed up almost over night, the other buildings torn down and replaced in a matter of a week where it normally took months at best to construct something that big. So yes, he had a winner. Finding the place was even easier with how people kept pointing toward it while discussing. A throng of people moved that way, too; it made sense, what with sunset approaching. People were in need of a good rink, a sentiment Zaveid could empathise with.

He found the tavern after a leisurely stroll, whistling at how it dominated its entire street; at least an entire storey taller than the surrounding buildings, a large sign hung from the front proudly proclaimed the Crowe's Nest. Someone painted an actual bird's nest below the name and artfully placed black feathers in the background. The building itself was pristine where most of the neighbourhood had at least some damages or signs of age. Zaveid could tell that it was drawn from the ground by earth seraphim, formed and put into shape; the earth was then baked and partly molten by fire seraphim before being left to cool, improving stability; the result was then polished by the gales of wind seraphim and everything cleaned thoroughly by water seraphim. Perhaps some of the artes had been cast by some not native to the element, but he doubted that it mattered.

Either way, the result was nothing to scoff at. Smooth, dark grey stonework created an imposing front before turning into dark red wood around the entrance, with a door in the same colour and the sign hanging just above. Windows of polished glass looked out onto the street, revealing a vast taproom filled with people talking animatedly or toasting each other. He could not even distinguish seraphim from humans at this distance, the great amounts of mana pinging his senses of the building in general, to the point he could hardly feel Innominat's domain. Had he not known it was there, he would have missed it entirely.

Shaking off his amazement over the cozy atmosphere, Zaveid strolled forward. At the same time, someone else did similarly after having admired the building some ways away; a stern-looking man, his face all hard lines amd short if messy brown hair. He was decked out in plate armour with Rolance-red plating down its center, sword strapped to his hip and a red cape cut like wings fluttering behind his back; if that was not enough to declare him a commander, the steel wing welded to his pauldron was. Zaveid felt like he saw him before, most likely on one of his previous visits.

A moment before they reached the door, the knight turned his head in surprise and stepped aside; their shoulders had almost touched. "Oh, pardon, I did not see you there, sir," he apologised politely, the behaviour at odds with his hardass look.

Zaveid just shrugged at him and grabbed for the doorhandle. "It's fine, pal. Not like you could've." He then pushed it open and swaggered into the sudden noise of chatter and smell of food and drink. The door he left open for the knight that followed after him.

Just as it appeared from the outside, this place was full of life and held an upbeat mood; he could not count how many people there were. A barmaid walked past and drew his eye, the woman now obviously a seraph to his senses from up close; he had her eye as well, for a moment. Zaveid winked at her and took note of a few other heads being turned his way as well; most of them likely human that were just idly curious instead of checking him out. Some of the younger women were doing that as well, though.

As he walked to the bar he spied, he began to take notice of some people who chatted openly with the seraphim seated at their tables; most, however, needed prompting and appeared more shy or overly respectful. That was when he realised the other purpose this place had: exposure. By letting people freely interact with seraphim, they slowly lost their nurtured reverence and treated them more like the people they were instead of minor gods. Clever. Almost every member of the waiting staff, male or female, was a seraph.

The clattering of armour and a short burst of his winds told him that the knight captain had the same destination as himself, though he seemed to walk a little slower than Zaveid did to take in the ambience. Getting closer to the bar, Zaveid finally spied the bartender and could not help but grin. "Damn, kid," he greeted before sliding onto a free stool. "You really went all-out on this!"

Laphicet turned his attention from another patron and offered a friendly smile. "Hello, Zaveid," he greeted. The boy was clad in a fine, black suit with white shirt and even a dark red tie.

"So, you choose that getup yourself or had Velvet force ya into it?" He quipped in response, receiving no response beyond a sour look, which was enough for Zaveid to chuckle.

Laphicet's eyes turned a little to the side when the knight climbed onto the stool next to Zaveid's, a stern gaze directed at the boy on the counter's other side. "Are you not a little young to handle alcohol?"

Zaveid had to smirk at that, even if it was true. He chimed in before Laphicet could: "Can't really tell with us seraphim, pal. I know the kid still looks his age, but he coulda been a thousand years old too." A more curious look now went to him while he scrutinised the boy. "Kinda doubt he'll drink either way, he's a goodie goodie boy who'll do like big sister says."

Who would have thought that poking fun at a god could be so amusing? Laphicet sighed in defeat. "That last part aside," he spoke up himself, which drew the knight's attention back to him, "I'm just helping out until we found a proper bartender, sir. I learn the fastest out of everyone on staff, so I took the spot for now."

"I see." The knight bowed his head at Laphicet. "My apologies for the rudeness, kind seraph."

"It's fine, you were right to ask. Now, what will it be?"

"Whiskey," Zaveid told him without hesitation. He was never one for fancy mixtures or anything of the like. So he received a bottle and a glass, the latter of which his bartender made a show of creating two ice cubes with an arte for; the man by his side watched the procedure in awe to the point he forgot to think of an order of his own for a time. Zaveid began to fill the glass while casting another glance at the merry people around. This place was basically chock full with them. "Looks like business is booming for ya."

He was given a cheeky grin. "It is as expected," Laphicet told him, "A conversation with an actual seraph, or even just being able to look at one, is enticing like few other things are." He then sighed. "If only the official documents hadn't taken so long, we could have opened right after we were done building two weeks ago, instead of the day before yesterday." He must have missed something. They could not have taken longer than a week to build this place; since when did paperwork go this fast- ah, Empyreans. Zaveid reminded himself not to question the arcane powers of the gods; at times, of course they could even bend bureaucracy.

He heard a faint sigh and some inaudible muttering from the knight, who then ordered a beer. "It is still difficult to believe that there are truly seraphim here, right before my very eyes," the man admitted, but paused when Laphicet hovered a filled tankard to him on a gust of air. "How is such a thing possible?"

One of the other men, an old fellow with curiously well-maintained hair and teeth, raised his own tankard at the knight with a wide grin. "Good question, sir knight; how's it, laddy, you willing to tell us?"

Zaveid could guess that the casual tone toward a seraph drew that frown out of mister law, so he clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Relax, man. This is a bar and not a fancy ball or something." That narrow-eyed gaze went to him now, to no effect, but then it faded away and any potential crisis was averted.

The boy smiled for some reason and cast a quick glance around, probably to find if he was needed anywhere; that was more or less unnecessary, seeing how everyone at the bar and even some people at the closer tables were waiting for him to explain. Nodding, he turned back to the knight. "Well, sir, what you have to understand is that every seraph, without exception, possesses a special power called a blessing. Some stand out, some are fairly normal, but they can be almost anything. In addition, there is an innate quality a human needs to possess to perceive seraphim, which we call resonance. It's a part of the soul and immutable by normal means. In this case, well." He made a sweeping motion for the taproom, the people around them listening with rapt attention. "We have a seraph on staff whose blessing boosts the resonance of people around them, for a time. They don't want to be identified, so I can't give you their name, but that's how we made it all work."

Cheeky. Zaveid threw the boy a knowing grin and leaned back while sipping his drink. Of course he knew all of this already, but all the humans around appeared as if they found enlightenment. He cast a glance to that knight whose sharp features were drawn into a thoughtful frown. "Say, what're you doing here, anyway? Aren't knights in armour on duty?"

The tankard that was on the way to his mouth stopped and the man blinked down at it. "I am," he admitted after a moment. Then his gaze turned back to Laphicet. "I am Sergei Strelka, captain of the Platinum Knights," he introduced himself. There were some double-takes from around them and Zaveid's initial assumption was thus proven right. "I was in the process of vetting the new businesses in Lastonbell, and to ensure there is no foul play involved here in particular." He cast a glance around before inclining his head. "I now know that there is none, though."

"Hm. I guess there are quite a few charlatans pretending to see or be seraphim?" Laphicet inquired curiously, to which the knight nodded.

"Yes, quite." Sergei took a long drag from his tankard after that and set it down with an appreciative nod. "But as I said, this, here, would not be possible to be just some charlatans."

Zaveid finished off his own glass and began to refill it, a silly grin on his face as he chimed into their conversation: "Best part is always the guys who pull that stunt right next to an actual seraph. Suddenly they keep stumbling or have a small raincloud pouring down on them, that kind of thing."

He chuckled and some of the people around joined in. Sergei wore a faint smile as well and nodded in agreement. "That is usually how we find such charlatans. It is good to know the seraphim will not stand for such trickery."

"Now I feel like I missed out," Laphicet told them with a frown. "I have been traveling for months and couldn't do that kind of thing even once." He shook his head sadly before dropping the subject. "But that aside, captain, if you wish, we can show you around the facilities later so you can make sure there is no foul play involved."

Sergei looked taken aback for a moment, though he caught himself soon. "You are too kind to offer this freely," he replied with a more open smile. "I am glad I do not have to insist against your wishes." Then he frowned for an instant. "Although, are you allowed to offer such things, kind seraph?"

The boy just smiled back. "It's kind of you to worry, sir, but there is no need. I am Laphicet Crowe, co-owner of this tavern. My sister Velvet is in in charge of acquisition and personnel while I mainly tend to the books and other such matters." He pushed some kind of drink over to another patron as he spoke, but his eyes never really left the knight captain, who stared at him a few moments longer.

"Ah, I see. My apologies, once again. I had no idea I was talking to one of the owners."

Zaveid just laughed over the uptight man and rummaged through one of his pouches, then put money on the table, next to his empty bottle. "Here you go, and one more beer for the captain. I'm gonna pay Velvet a visit now." He slid out of his chair while Laphicet pointed down to a door behind the bar with his thumb, the other hand already clearing his spot. Zaveid grinned at him and swaggered off.

Good thing he kept the money he took off of the hellions he killed. Some may think differently, but he did pay for stuff... most of the time. The few times he did not, the previous owners deserved it for one reason or other.

Left behind, Sergei's eyes followed the confident seraph until he was through the door. Then they turned back to the young bartender. "Was this really alright?"

The blond boy huffed at that as he began to wash and then wipe dry the used glass. "He is a good friend, so there is no need to worry." Silence reined after that, for a time. It was not truly quiet with how the chatter from around the room filled their ears, but the handful of people at the bar drank in peace. Sergei, too, enjoyed his beer despite the fact he was on duty; he completely forgot about that the moment he entered this place.

Their next distraction came in form of a girl, or rather a young woman. What drew his attention was her blonde, almost golden hair as it shone in the warm firelight. What kept it was the sword strapped to her hip. She stood a bit taller than the average woman and wore trousers instead of a skirt or dress, which was just a little unusual. He could not really guess her age; strangely, he felt he saw this girl around town before. He said nothing, merely watched as she tapped the boy seraph's shoulder. "I'm done with my exercises," she then told him. "Anything else you need me for?"

"Nothing for now, go and enjoy your evening."

And off she was. Sergei's gaze followed her through the door in the back, a thoughtful frown etched onto his features again. He could not help but ask: "Another young seraph?"

Laphicet Crowe then turned back to him with a shake of his head, but the elderly man down the bar laughed out loud and spoke first: "Nay, but it makes sense ye're thinking that! That's the innkeeper's daughter, Margaret. Started turning into a fine woman recently, that one. Really dedicated to whatever she's doing." Laphicet nodded along and Sergei mulled it over; so he had seen that girl before.

Either way, duty called. He emptied his second tankard and was sorely tempted to order a third, but ultimately forced himself to be reasonable. "Would it be possible to have someone show me around then? I will not be long, it is quite clear this is the real deal." Perhaps a few words with Velvet Crowe as well, but he doubted he would find anything suspicious.

"Of course, just a moment. Bell!" His call drew one of the barmaids from her path around the room and to the bar; she was a pretty, shapely thing clad in a plain, brown dress made to emphasize her curves. "Please show captain Sergei around the facilities. We're an honest establishment, so there is nothing to hide."

"Sure thing, boss!" The woman sounded bright and Sergei forced his eyes to stop wandering, forced them past the red scarf covering her throat and up to her freckled face; going by the sly grin she threw him, she noticed anyway. "Off we go, captain. This way, please!"

He was quickly led away and into the backrooms where more people were at work preparing ingredients and supplying the bar. Part of him still wondered whether this was all a dream; this place felt more like a miracle taken form, to allow everyone to partake in communion with the seraphim.

He would need a while to come to terms with it.

He would take a long walk to clear his head after this.

He would definitely come again.

But for now, he had a duty to fulfill. So Sergei cast all these feelings aside to focus.