The celebration carried on well into the night and even the early hours of the next day, the streets of Westmont alive with song, laughter, and the clinking of mugs.
Damien, who had initially planned to keep things light, found himself swept up in the festivities.
Arielle, ever the persuasive one, managed to coax him into trying more drinks, and before long, the young Mercenary was seated at a table surrounded by cheering townsfolk.
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” they chanted, slamming their mugs on the table as Damien tilted his head back, finishing yet another pint of beer.
He slammed the mug down, his silver hair disheveled, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m starting to see why people enjoy this,” he muttered, a lopsided grin on his face.
Arielle, seated beside him, laughed. “Told you it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a little!”
Damien shot her a mock glare but didn’t argue. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Vel and Jallen danced clumsily in the middle of the street, their arms locked in an awkward attempt at a jig.
Axiom was nearby, regaling a group of townsfolk with exaggerated tales of their battles, while the rest of his group cheered him on.
As the night pushed further, Damien’s eyelids grew heavier mostly due to the alcohol’s influence, and the world around him began to blur.
He tried to fight it, but the combination of exhaustion and alcohol proved too much. With a soft groan, he slumped forward, his head resting on the table.
He wasn’t the only one. All around him, others were succumbing to the same fate. Arielle was the last to fall, her laughter fading as she dozed off beside him.
The bright morning sun was unforgiving, its rays piercing through the remnants of the celebration.
“Ugh…”
“Arrggghh…”
“My back…”
Groans echoed through the streets as people stirred awake, their heads pounding and their throats parched.
Damien opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight making him wince. His head felt like it was being split in two, and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. He sat up, blinking at the chaos around him.
The streets were littered with empty mugs, discarded plates, and slumbering bodies.
Vel was sprawled across a bench, snoring loudly, while Jallen lay face-down on the ground, his arm draped over a chicken that had somehow wandered into the celebration. At least, that was what Damien believed.
Arielle woke up not far from Damien, rubbing her eyes and groaning. “What… happened?”
“You convinced me to drink,” Damien muttered, glaring at her half-heartedly.
Arielle chuckled weakly. “Well, you needed it to relax.”
The two of them slowly got to their feet, stretching and groaning as they surveyed the mess.
“We need to clean this all up.” Damien stated with a sigh. It was indeed a mess.
“Of course we will.” Arielle nodded, filling two cups of water for herself and Damien.
Other townsfolk were beginning to wake up as well, their faces a mix of confusion and regret.
“Alright! Let’s get to work. This place needs to be clean before we can proceed to resume the town’s reconstruction.” Arielle was a figure most of the people in the town looked up to.
It didn’t take long for the cleanup to begin. Under Arielle’s direction, everyone started picking up trash, stacking chairs, and dragging the unconscious to more comfortable spots.
Damien, despite his throbbing headache, pitched in as well, his movements simple but efficient.
Just as the streets were beginning to look somewhat presentable, the sound of hooves echoed in the distance.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Everyone paused, turning toward the town’s gate as a carriage rolled into view. It was an elegant vehicle, drawn by two sleek black horses and flanked by a pair of armored guards.
Damien straightened, his brow furrowing. “Who’s that?”
Arielle glanced at the carriage, her eyes widening in recognition. “The town’s lord.”
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Damien turned to her, surprised. “The town has a lord?”
Arielle nodded. “He’s usually away on business, but he oversees Westmont. I guess the recent attacks brought him back.”
The carriage came to a halt at the gate, and the door swung open. A man stepped out, his presence commanding attention.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a stern expression and sharp green eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his attire was a mix of nobility and elegance, befitting someone of his station.
The townsfolk stood in silence as the lord approached, his boots crunching against the dirt road. His gaze swept over the gathered crowd before landing on Damien. The man squinted his eyes as though recognise my Damien which caused Damien to take a step back.
To Damien’s surprise, the man’s stern expression softened, and he bowed deeply. “You must be the one they call Damien.”
Damien blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yes, that’s me.”
The lord straightened, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I’ve heard of your deeds. While I was away, you saved this town from certain destruction. For that, I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
Damien shifted uncomfortably, unused to such formal gratitude. “I just did what needed to be done.”
The lord smiled faintly. “Humility is a rare trait these days. But make no mistake, your actions have left a lasting impact on this town and its people.”
He turned to address the rest of the crowd, his voice carrying authority. “To all of you, I apologize for my absence during such a critical time. I will do everything in my power to ensure Westmont is fortified against future threats. But for now, let us acknowledge the hero who stood in my place.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, their earlier exhaustion forgotten as they raised their voices in praise of Damien once more.
Damien sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really didn’t do it for the recognition.”
Arielle grinned beside him. “Get used to it. You’re the town’s hero already.”
The lord extended his hand to Damien, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you have only to ask,” the lord said earnestly.
Damien nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, the lord excused himself, speaking briefly with a few of the town’s elders before heading toward his residence at the other end of the town. The crowd began to disperse, their energy renewed by the lord’s presence and words.
Damien turned to Arielle, his expression unreadable. “This town is full of surprises.”
Arielle laughed, nudging him playfully. “And you’re at the center of all of them.”
