So there we were, standing in the middle of Port Ormos, where the streets smell like a blend of spice and suspicion, and the only thing more overwhelming than the noise was the sheer number of shady alleyways. If this place had a slogan, it'd be: "Come for the commerce, stay because your wallet got stolen."
"Alright, hear me out," I whispered dramatically, crouching behind a suspiciously large pile of melons, Greg perched regally on my head like a gremlin crown. "If only I hadn't speedrun this Archon Quest on my other account, I might not actually be surprised right now. But nooo, I don't know what's next. But I know we'll meet the scribe. With the Greek god physique. And we help him test alchemical nonsense."
Lumine didn't even look at me. She just held up a hand.
"Shhh."
Rude.
"You don't have to shush me like I'm a misbehaving ferret," I muttered.
"Then stop talking like one," she whispered back.
Greg flicked his tongue in agreement. Traitor.
Paimon peeked over the melon pile, eyes narrowed. "Can you two focus for once? We're here for info, not another episode of whatever sitcom you two are starring in."
We were hiding—not very well—behind a fruit stand while trying to eavesdrop on a group of Akademiya students arguing nearby. Paimon had somehow managed to wedge herself between two crates, looking like a suspicious fruit sprite. Me? I looked majestic. Probably.
The students sounded serious.
"It's no good..." said one of them with a heavy sigh. "I've tried asking around, but I haven't been able to learn anything useful. Not to mention that a bunch of scary-looking Eremite mercenaries have been posted along the streets now."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "There's been a lot of fighting between different Eremite factions. If we move on our own, we need to avoid them. Especially the ones shouting about King Deshret and resurrection. What were they called again? Ayn something...?"
"Ayn Al-Ahmar," the third one said like he'd been waiting for the moment all his life. Nerd. "I heard the thing we're after might be in their possession."
My ears perked up.
Greg shifted slightly, sensing the plot.
"Don't you see?" the third student continued. "Many Eremites deal with this kind of stuff. They're wary of outsiders, but not of students. As long as they know you're with the Akademiya, deals can be made."
"Where do they sell this kind of knowledge?" one asked.
"Djafar Tavern. And if you have half a million Mora, they'll give you info on anything."
I gasped.
"Half a million!?" I whisper-screamed. "For that price, I better get a side of fries and a moral dilemma."
Lumine side-eyed me. "You don't have a moral compass to begin with."
"I do! It's just... upside-down."
"Shhh again."
Greg slapped my forehead with his tail. Thanks, buddy.
Back with the nerds, one was panicking.
"That much for information? We might as well give up on graduating!"
"Nah," the third one reassured. "This field is so niche, nobody else will be looking for it."
Cue us. Literally crouching behind fruit.
Paimon looked horrified. "Did you hear that? They're buying shady knowledge with real money! Like it's a can of preserved rations!"
"Honestly," I said, standing up dramatically, nearly knocking Greg off, "they're speaking my language. Sketchy deals and unnecessary plot twists? Count me in."
Lumine gave me that look. The one that says: Please don't make me apologize to strangers again.
"Let's go to the tavern," she said firmly.
"Great. Nothing like heading straight into the fire armed with sarcasm and bad decisions," I said cheerfully.
Paimon blinked. "Wait, WHAT!? Didn't you hear them?! HALF A MILLION MORA! Have you lost your mind!?"
"Reliable information is priceless," Lumine said.
"Also, if it's a scam, we get to commit revenge," I added helpfully.
"That's... not how logic works," Lumine muttered.
Greg snorted. Which was weird, because I didn't think lizards could snort.
"Alright, but if we're doing this, I'm putting it on your tab," Paimon said, glaring.
"Joke's on you! I only have left socks."
"Why do you only have left socks!?"
"Because right ones always run away from commitment."
Lumine covered her face. "I can't believe I'm willingly going into danger with you two."
"You love us," I said with a grin.
"I tolerate you. That's not the same."
"Right, right," I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows. "Because you love me specifically."
Lumine turned beet red. "Shut up!" she stammered, stomping her foot and speedwalking ahead like the floor personally offended her.
Worth it.
Greg gave a knowing flick of his tongue. Absolute wing-lizard.
And so, with Greg on my head, Lumine pouting like it's her full-time job, and Paimon already regretting life, we set off for Djafar Tavern.
Because clearly, nothing says "good plan" like walking into a den of mercenaries with a lizard and questionable wallet choices.
Adventure, baby.
***
The Djafar Tavern. You know you're in for a good time when the paint is peeling, the air smells like cheap ale and incense, and the barkeep looks like he moonlights as a bounty hunter. I mean, I've walked into some shady places before, but this? This was peak suspicious.
Even Greg seemed to tense up slightly. And that's saying something because Greg has two settings: napping or lording over my scalp like he's some ancient deity who demands offerings of head pats and sunbathing.
We walked in—me, the chaos gremlin, Greg the Royal Lizard perched like a divine relic on my head, Lumine who still wouldn't look me in the eyes after the whole "because you love me" bit, and Paimon who looked two seconds from smacking me with a menu.
Technically, this wasn't even a tavern with walls or doors—it was more like a glorified street bar with tables shoved under wooden awnings and a few mismatched chairs scattered about. Very open. Very exposed. Very suspicious.
"Wow," I muttered as we walked in and looked around. "No doors. No walls. No way out if things go south. I feel incredibly safe."
"Shigeru," Lumine warned.
"What? I'm just appreciating the ambiance. It's got a charming 'we're-about-to-be-stabbed' vibe to it."
Paimon groaned. "Can we just pick a seat already?"
"Ah yes, yes," I said, gesturing grandly to a slightly rickety table near the edge of the space. "Right here. Front row seats to whatever shady exposition dump is about to go down."
Lumine gave me a look like she was reconsidering all her life choices. But she sat. Greg settled comfortably on my head, and Paimon hovered nearby, scanning the area like a pint-sized bodyguard.
I leaned back in my chair dramatically. "So… what now?"
"We wait," Lumine said, trying to appear nonchalant. But I noticed the way her eyes flicked toward the entrance every few seconds.
"Waiting," I nodded sagely. "Ah yes. The classic adventurer pastime. That, and awkward silences."
Paimon floated awkwardly, arms crossed. "Okay, we sit, we wait, we don't cause trouble. That means you, Shigeru."
"Moi?" I said, clutching my chest. "I'm the picture of discretion."
Lumine didn't say anything. She just gave me the look. You know the one. The one that says "You already did something, didn't you?"
I did.
"So," I said, sipping the free water like it was fine wine, "when do the sketchy info dealers arrive?"
"Soon, Paimon hope," Paimon said. "This place is making Paimon nervous... and hungry."
"Hungry? Here? You want suspicious fish pie and mystery meat kebabs?"
"...Paimon will wait."
Greg flicked his tail in agreement. Smart lizard.
We passed the time the only way I know how—teasing Lumine.
Cue awkward silence.
I decided it was time to break it. "Soooo… Lumine~."
She didn't look up. "Don't start."
"Oh, I wasn't going to start. I was just going to say… you've been looking kinda blushy lately. Heat stroke? Or… love stroke?"
Her eyes twitched. "Shigeru."
"Right, right," I continued, grinning like a devil. "Because you love me specifically."
"Shut up!" she snapped, cheeks flaring pink. "S-Stop saying weird things like that!"
Greg's tail flicked lazily like he was enjoying the show.
"I mean," I leaned forward, grinning wider, "I get it. I'm irresistible. The hair, the aura, the emotional damage—"
Lumine stood up suddenly, hand raised like she was about to karate chop me into next week.
My soul left my body.
"PAIMON!" I yelped, arms shielding my head. "RED ALERT! CODE L! I REPEAT, CODE L! LUMINE IS ABOUT TO COMMIT A FELONY!"
Paimon blinked. "Huh?"
"HELP. EMERGENCY. I'm about to be assassinated by the golden menace! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! She's going to punch me into another dimension! Stop her! Activate DEFCON 1! Use your cuteness! DISTRACT HER!"
Paimon flailed her arms like a tiny emergency siren. "Lumine! Not the tavern! Not again! Remember last time? The waiter still walks with a limp!"
Lumine stopped mid-swing, eyes darting around. Realizing she had an audience, she groaned and lowered her hand.
"Fine," she muttered. "But only because we're in public."
"I owe you my life, Paimon," I whispered, dramatically clutching her tiny floating hands.
"Yeah, yeah," Paimon rolled her eyes. "You'd better not make her mad again."
"Better?" I scoffed. "It's practically my full-time job."
Greg adjusted himself proudly. I think he was disappointed she didn't punch me.
Right about then, the air shifted. Three figures entered the tavern area like they owned the whole desert. Eremites. You could spot them a mile away with those scarves, smug expressions, and an aura that screamed "Yes, I've done questionable things and I'll do it again."
They sat at the table closest to the center and started talking like the place wasn't full of innocent bystanders—or eavesdroppers like us.
"Oh, you've arrived. Please take a seat,"
One of them—beefy, glowy-eyed, and exuding misplaced confidence—grumbled, "So they think they can go toe to toe with the boss? Hah. Once we reclaim King Deshret's power, they'll be the first to fall."
Another piped up, "Our main rival now is The Caracal Battalion. They've also amassed a significant amount of Mora this time, so we mustn't underestimate them."
I narrowed my eyes. "They named their faction after a cat? Are we in a villain starter pack meeting?"
"Shh," Lumine hissed.
The third one was getting passionate now. "With the Boss's fervent devotion, he'll be able to use this power to bring our god back this time."
Paimon leaned in, whispering, "They keep talking about King Deshret. Sounds like we found the right people."
And then, like they'd hit a personal nerve, the worst line of all dropped:
"Greater Lord Rukkhadevata... That traitor and her followers must not be spared! The day will come when King Deshret exacts vengeance on Sumeru!"
"Excuse me!?" I said, loud enough to draw attention but not quite enough to blow our cover. "Did he just—"
"Don't," Lumine warned.
"No, no, no," I fumed. "You don't just talk about Dendro Mommy like that. She's the queen of plants and good decisions. She sacrificed for y'all. Put some respect on her name!"
Greg hissed supportively.
"I second that emotion, Greg."
Lumine gave me a tired look. "Do not start a tavern brawl."
"But justice!"
"No."
"Just a little slap—"
"Shigeru."
I sighed, deflated. "Fine. But only because Greg told me to behave."
Greg, smug and majestic, did nothing.
We kept listening. Their whole conversation was basically a mix of cult recruitment pitch, aggressive rants, and enough plot-relevant keywords to make even a Quest Marker raise an eyebrow.
"Think we have enough?" I whispered.
"Almost," Lumine murmured. "Let them finish. Then we move."
I cracked my knuckles. "Good. Because I've got questions. Like why are their fashion choices all desert rogue meets bad decisions."
"Shigeru," Paimon warned.
"What? I'm just saying—if you're gonna do world domination, at least accessorize properly."
And so, we waited. Letting them ramble, letting the intel build. My fingers twitched for justice. Greg flexed a claw. Lumine stared forward like a calm, quiet storm.
Soon, it'd be time to step in. But for now?
We were professionals. Silent. Watching. Waiting.
"It seems like they're finished." She muttered slightly. "Let's approach them."
"Good call," I whispered. "Because if I hear them insult Dendro Mommy one more time, I might just activate my final form."
"Which is?"
"Extreme pettiness."
Paimon groaned. "Why is this always how it goes with you?"
Greg flicked his tail dramatically. Even he was done.
And so we sat in silence again, eavesdropping like the professionals we pretend not to be.
Because sometimes, the best way to gather intel… is behind a mug of lukewarm water, next to a lizard king, and trying not to punch a blasphemous mercenary in the face.
__________________________
End of Chapter 89
Quests Completed:
*Locate the suspicious tavern in Port Ormos
*Eavesdrop on the Eremite members
*Confirm their connection to King Deshret's return
*Learn of the rivalry with the Caracal Battalion
*Stay alive despite provoking Lumine's wrath
*Survive Lumine's emotional damage counterattack
*Calm Paimon before she panics mid-air
Sub-Quest:
*Maintain Greg's royal approval
Rewards:
*+1 Insight into Eremite Operations
*+400 Adventure EXP
*+100 Relationship EXP (with Paimon, barely)
*+1 Suspicious Street Fish (Not Edible)
*+1 Greg Approval Point
*+3 Vivid Images of Lumine Blushing
*New Tavern Unlocked: Djafar's Outdoor Disaster Patio
Achievements:
"She Almost Punched Me (Again)"
-Survive a Lumine rage moment with nothing but sarcasm and a floating emergency button named Paimon.
"Blasphemy Detected: Defense Mode Engaged"
-Hear someone insult Greater Lord Rukkhadevata and resist (barely) the urge to throw hands in public.