The tavern was alive with the usual morning hustle—chairs scraping, boots stomping, and the clink of tankards as adventurers fueled up for their next quests. A warm aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meat filled the air, though it did little to soothe the storm brewing at one particular corner table.

Marquis Raven, the elf mage in his pristine white robe, was in the middle of an impassioned lecture. “I’m just saying, if you did take the time to learn even the basics of magical theory, perhaps you wouldn’t be so—how shall I put this—reckless in battle.” He adjusted his glasses with a smirk, his staff leaning against the table as he relished the chance to flex his intellect.

Across from him, Elisabeth Ravenshield was gripping her tankard with dangerous intent, her fiery red hair looking almost literal. “Reckless? At least I don’t waste time mumbling about theories when I can just smash the problem flat!” Her glare could’ve knocked over a lesser man, but Marquis was unfazed, used to the warhammer-wielding woman’s fiery temper.

Luna Graywolf, seated between them, had opted out of the argument entirely. The wolf-eared beastkin was happily munching on a piece of meat, her tail swishing lazily behind her. “This is good,” she mumbled between bites, entirely oblivious to the tension at the table. The chaotic exchange of insults and glares around her didn’t even register—she was focused on more important things, like breakfast.