Lili drew a shaky breath, her small frame trembling slightly as she approached the warmly glowing entrance of the Dancing Dragon Inn. Golden lamplight seeped invitingly from beneath the sturdy wooden door, casting a gentle amber pool upon the dirt-packed street beneath her bare feet. Her tiny fingers tightened nervously around the worn handle of her wicker basket, feeling the reassuring weight of her single remaining oversized strawberry inside as she stepped hesitantly forward.
Just as her hand reached out to push the heavy oak door open, her vivid blue eyes were caught by the exquisitely carved wooden sign swaying gently above the entrance. Beautifully detailed, the carving depicted a fierce western dragon with its wings majestically spread, head tilted back proudly in a bold, defiant roar. For a fleeting moment, the image vividly reminded her of Deathwing, the legendary dragon from World of Warcraft, sparking a nostalgic warmth that briefly eased her anxious heart.
Yet, it wasn't the impressive dragon itself that gave her pause. Instead, it was the elaborate inscription beneath the beast, letters twisting elegantly in a graceful, flowing script. Her delicate brow furrowed deeply, confusion clouding her delicate features as she stepped slightly back to better scrutinize the unfamiliar lettering.
"Th-the… D-Dan…" she mumbled softly, tracing each elaborate letter slowly with a hesitant fingertip. "C-Cing… D-Dragon… Inn?"
Relief surged warmly through her small frame as the words finally clicked into place. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly, embarrassment warming her cheeks faintly pink as she realized her initial difficulty. After all, she'd spent countless hours in her previous life immersing herself in medieval lore and historical scripts—albeit mostly through video games and online forums—but seeing such script vividly real rather than safely confined to a computer screen felt strangely disorienting.
Squinting again uncertainly, she leaned even closer to study the sign. The intricate lettering indeed seemed reminiscent of Old English, or perhaps even Elvish—at least from what she vaguely remembered from historical texts and fantasy novels she'd once loved.
"N-no, it c-can't be Old English," she murmured stubbornly, as if trying to reassure herself. "It's pr-probably just Elvish. Y-yeah, that's it. Th-this must be a m-medieval-fantasy convention or s-something."
Despite her quiet reassurance, the fluttering anxiety in her chest refused to fully subside. Her empty stomach growled insistently once more, a sharp reminder of her pressing hunger. Her knees felt sore and weak, each step becoming increasingly difficult after the long, exhausting journey. Yet the alluring aromas wafting gently from behind the wooden door—the inviting smells of warm bread, roasting meats, and rich stews—promised warmth, comfort, and desperately needed nourishment.
Her imagination briefly wandered, tantalizing her with vivid memories of beloved modern foods she missed dearly—hot, cheesy pizzas dripping with melted mozzarella, thick juicy cheeseburgers, crispy golden fries sprinkled generously with salt, and refreshing, ice-cold soda fizzing delightfully on her tongue.
She shook her head gently, pulling herself back to reality. Whatever awaited her behind that door, she doubted it would match her nostalgic dreams—but anything edible would suffice. She bit her lip, steeling her resolve, and adjusted her oversized hood lower over her platinum-blonde hair, shadowing her delicate features beneath its reassuring darkness.
"I c-can d-do this," she whispered softly to herself, her voice trembling slightly yet filled with quiet determination. "J-just open the d-door, L-Lili."
With newfound courage, her tiny hand pressed firmly against the sturdy oak door, gently pushing it open. Immediately, a wave of comforting warmth, cheerful noise, and savory scents enveloped her, pulling her forward and washing away some of her lingering hesitation.
Squaring her small shoulders bravely beneath her cloak, Lili stepped confidently into the lively heart of the Dancing Dragon Inn, determined to face whatever awaited her within.
Lili stepped timidly across the threshold, and the overwhelming atmosphere of the Dancing Dragon Inn instantly surrounded her like a thick, comforting yet disorienting embrace. The warm air was heavy with mingled scents of freshly baked bread, savory roasted meats, bubbling stew, and spilled ale. Candlelight flickered gently from every corner, casting dancing amber shadows upon the rough wooden walls and low ceiling beams, which bore marks of smoke, age, and constant use.
The tavern was crowded with villagers, their laughter and conversations blending into a lively, raucous hum. Women, men, elderly villagers, and even young children mingled freely, each face alight with the joy of the evening's celebration. For a moment, the sheer vibrancy of the scene took Lili's breath away, leaving her frozen just inside the doorway, eyes wide beneath her hood.
Her heart quickened anxiously as she realized nearly everyone had turned their curious gazes toward her petite figure. She felt their eyes studying her carefully, whispers and murmurs rippling through the crowd, speculative and cautious. Her flawless skin, delicate figure, and ethereal beauty, so unusual among the rough villagers, immediately sparked assumptions of nobility or even royal lineage.
Feeling deeply self-conscious, Lili pulled the oversized cloak tighter around her slender shoulders and lowered her gaze, carefully beginning to navigate through the crowded tavern. Each step made her keenly aware of her vulnerability, her small size making her seem especially fragile amid the large, burly villagers gathered within.
As she passed between tables, conversations briefly halted; patrons' eyes followed her silently, their wary curiosity evident. Aware of their stares, she anxiously tugged her cloak's hood lower still, heart pounding loudly in her chest.
Quickly scanning her surroundings, she spotted a staircase to her left, likely leading to upper-floor guest rooms. Directly ahead stood a broad wooden bar, lined with villagers loudly requesting drinks from the stocky bartender bustling behind it. On her right was a modest wooden stage, a dusty, neglected lute propped forlornly against its edge.
Driven by hunger and the practical advice of Old Man Alcott, Lili decided the bar was her best hope for assistance. Navigating cautiously around a particularly noisy table filled with villagers clad in rough militia attire, she overheard fragments of their talk—discussions of road patrols, livestock protection, and ominous mentions of "cursed Lycans," their voices grim and serious despite their festive surroundings.
The sheer realism of their conversation unsettled her deeply. Her previous thoughts—that she might have stumbled into some elaborate cosplay event—rapidly faded, replaced by the uneasy recognition that her new reality might indeed be genuinely medieval.
At last, Lili reached the bar, only to discover a new challenge: the counter's height. Standing just over 130 centimeters tall, her eyes barely reached its polished surface, leaving her staring helplessly upward. With a quick glance around, she spotted a single empty stool nearby. Carefully, she placed her basket down and, gathering her remaining strength, pulled herself awkwardly onto the seat, her tiny legs dangling above the wooden floor.
Now finally visible, she nervously cleared her throat and softly called out, "E-excuse me… M-mister Greg?" Her voice trembled slightly, barely audible above the tavern's lively noise.
Greg, the innkeeper, turned toward her, his broad face flushed and sweaty from constant work. His heavy brows furrowed suspiciously as he eyed her critically, clearly unimpressed by her clean appearance and unusual attire beneath the cloak. Leaning forward gruffly, he demanded, "Yeah? What's a fancy little thing like you want here, eh?"
Lili winced inwardly at his tone, quickly realizing this wasn't the welcoming introduction she had hoped for. Swallowing nervously, she tried a polite, hopeful smile. "U-um… d-do you have a ph-phone I could use? I—I n-need to call my police captain to tell him I'm f-fine. It's been about… eight y-years or so since I last checked in."
Greg stared blankly at her, visibly baffled by her request. "A what now? A ph-phone? Police captain?" he scoffed dismissively, shaking his head. "Look, lass, I ain't got time for nonsense. If you're just here to waste my time, you'd best leave. Got a family to feed, I do."
His harsh dismissal hit Lili like a blow, her heart sinking sharply. Her stomach twisted into knots as she began to fully grasp her situation: this wasn't a fantasy event or elaborate game. She truly stood lost in a real medieval world, alone and entirely disconnected from anything she had ever known.
Drawing a shaky breath, she quickly reached into her basket, pulling out the large, vividly red strawberry—her last precious possession. She cautiously held it out toward Greg, desperate and hopeful. "P-please wait! I-I don't have money, b-but could I trade this berry for something to eat?"
Greg's skeptical eyes widened slightly, intrigued by the berry's unusual size and bright color. After a brief pause, he sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Fine, it's a deal," he conceded gruffly, carefully taking the berry from her delicate hand before disappearing briefly into the kitchen.
Left alone for a moment, relief washed over Lili, mingling intensely with isolation and confusion. Her new reality pressed heavily upon her shoulders, weighing her down with loneliness and uncertainty. She glanced nervously around the bustling tavern again, taking in the rough clothing, yellowed teeth, and weathered faces of villagers around her, each glance reinforcing her deep sense of displacement.
Quietly, she pulled her hood even lower, silently accepting her unfamiliar circumstances. For better or worse, she was now genuinely alone, lost within a harsh, unfamiliar medieval world.
As Lili sat nervously at the bar, a gruff yet oddly friendly voice suddenly broke through her anxious thoughts. She turned cautiously, finding herself face-to-face with a rough-looking man, clearly well into his cups. His dark hair hung in greasy, unkempt strands around a weathered face, his breath heavily scented with strong ale.
"Well now," he said with a crooked, gap-toothed grin, leaning slightly closer. "Ain't seen your pretty face around 'ere before, little miss. Name's Eadric—fisherman by trade. Most o' the fish in tonight's stew came right from my nets, y'know."
Though his initial greeting was friendly enough, something about the way his gaze lingered upon her delicate features sent an uncomfortable shiver down Lili's spine. Nevertheless, she managed a polite smile, swallowing her unease. "H-hello, m-mister Eadric. M-my name's Lili."
His grin broadened further, taking on an unsettling, wolfish quality. "Lili, eh? Pretty name for a pretty girl. An' tell me, little lady, you wouldn't 'appen to be marriage-age yet, would ya? Twelve? Maybe fourteen?"
Lili's eyes widened in startled confusion and discomfort, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. "I-I think I'm… o-only eight?"
Eadric laughed boisterously, the sound harsh and humorless, then abruptly leaned even closer, placing a large calloused hand upon her slender back, his touch lingering far longer than appropriate. "Well now, ain't you a well-developed lass for eight," he muttered, his voice dropping into a husky, suggestive tone. "Maybe you're a nobleman's daughter, eh? Got all them fancy looks."
A rush of panic flooded Lili's senses, her small body stiffening anxiously beneath his rough touch. She opened her mouth, desperately searching for words, but none emerged, her throat tight with fear.
Suddenly, a loud, angry voice thundered sharply beside her, accompanied by a fierce slam of a fist upon the bar. Eadric's hand jerked away immediately, startled. Lili turned her wide, fearful eyes toward the newcomer—a teenage boy no older than sixteen, lean and muscular, with short blond hair and stormy blue eyes now fixed furiously upon Eadric.
"Keep yer filthy hands off things that ain't yours, Eadric!" the boy snapped fiercely, roughly yanking Lili's stool closer to him, positioning himself protectively between her and the older man. His fierce glare was unwavering. "You've had enough ale for tonight, methinks. Maybe take yourself home 'fore you make more trouble."
Eadric hesitated, his expression souring briefly, but ultimately grumbled and retreated grudgingly back to his mug, clearly unwilling to argue further.
The teenage boy then turned his intense gaze upon Lili, his expression softening noticeably. "Sorry 'bout that drunken fool," he said, his voice gruff yet surprisingly gentle now. "Name's Osgar. Fisherman over there's good with nets, not so good with manners. Trust me, lass, best steer clear o' his sort."
Lili nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Th-thank you, Osgar," she whispered softly, her small voice filled with genuine gratitude and relief.
"No need for thanks," Osgar muttered quietly, shaking his head slightly. "Had enough trouble myself lately, no reason to let someone else suffer it too."
As he spoke, a flicker of pain passed briefly across his features, his eyes darkening momentarily with bitter sadness. He exhaled slowly, meeting Lili's eyes again. "Truth is, lost my girl Lisa not long ago—left me for some fool named Cerdic. Bastard got himself a good-paying job at the new mill, and suddenly she forgot all about me."
The vulnerability and raw hurt evident in Osgar's expression touched Lili deeply, stirring her empathy and quiet admiration. She offered him a small, gentle smile, hesitantly placing her tiny hand upon his forearm in comforting sympathy. "I-I'm sorry t-to hear that," she whispered softly, sincerity shining in her wide blue eyes.
Osgar's hard expression softened further, gratitude flickering warmly across his face as he gazed down at her delicate, innocent features. For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between them, the noisy tavern fading slightly into the background.
Then Osgar cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting slightly to break the moment. "Look," he said, nudging his own mug toward her gently. "If you're thirsty, take mine. Reckon I've had plenty enough ale for one night."
She blinked uncertainly, yet his kindness was reassuring and comforting. Carefully taking a small sip of the bitter ale, she wrinkled her nose slightly, but still felt warmly appreciative of his protective presence beside her.
With a quiet sigh of relief, Lili relaxed slightly under Osgar's watchful gaze, feeling far safer than before. Though still lost and uncertain in this strange medieval world, she now had at least one ally to rely upon—even if she barely knew him.
Greg returned swiftly, dropping a small wooden tray onto the bar in front of Lili with an indifferent clatter. Her hopeful smile faltered immediately as she took in the sight before her. Upon the worn wooden tray lay a shallow wooden bowl, containing a watery stew dotted sparsely with small chunks of pale vegetables, limp bits of cabbage, and a few unidentifiable scraps of meat. Beside it sat a small, rough loaf of bread, dark and coarse, its crust appearing thick and hard, dusted with coarse flour that seemed more grit than grain.
"This… th-this is it?" Lili stammered softly, her voice barely audible above the bustling tavern chatter. Her expressive blue eyes widened with disbelief as they darted hesitantly between the meager meal and Greg. "B-but I gave you s-such a big, juicy b-berry…"
Greg merely shrugged, his expression unsympathetic as he wiped his hands on a grimy towel. "Food's scarce, little missy," he said bluntly, his tone dismissive and firm. "Next time bring real coin if ye want more." Without waiting for her response, he turned away to pour ale for another patron, leaving her staring helplessly at the meager offering.
A few nearby villagers who had overheard the exchange chuckled quietly among themselves, exchanging amused glances at the small girl's evident disappointment. Lili felt heat rise rapidly into her cheeks, embarrassment prickling painfully alongside her gnawing hunger. She lowered her eyes, biting her lip to suppress the sudden wave of humiliation.
Sitting beside her, Osgar noticed her crestfallen expression and offered a gentle, sympathetic smile. Leaning slightly closer, he nodded knowingly at the tray. "Bread here's always gritty," he explained softly, nudging his half-full mug of ale closer to her. "Drink some ale with it. Makes it go down easier, trust me."
With a shy, grateful nod, Lili hesitantly picked up the rough loaf of bread, feeling its weight and dense texture in her small hands. Taking a cautious bite, she immediately felt the gritty texture scrape unpleasantly across her teeth, coarse grains grinding harshly against her delicate gums. Her small face twisted in discomfort as she chewed slowly, trying to disguise her reaction. Quickly, she reached for the mug of ale, sipping carefully to wash away the unpleasant sensation. She nearly coughed at the unexpected bitterness, but managed to swallow it down, grateful despite herself for Osgar's thoughtful suggestion.
Osgar chuckled warmly, his blue eyes softening as he watched her valiantly struggle with the humble fare. "You're a funny one, aren't ya?" he remarked gently, clearly charmed by her delicate manners amid the tavern's rough surroundings. "I never caught your name earlier—properly, I mean."
A soft blush crept warmly onto her pale cheeks, and she lifted her gaze shyly to meet his eyes. Her voice, quiet and hesitant, held a gentle innocence. "I-I'm Lili."
"Lili," Osgar repeated slowly, thoughtfully testing the sound. A faint, genuine smile tugged at his lips, his gaze warm and approving. "That's a pretty name—suits ya nicely."
His unexpected compliment caused her blush to deepen further, her heart fluttering briefly. She lowered her eyes once more, nervously tearing another small piece of the gritty bread, feeling suddenly self-conscious yet oddly comforted by his kind words.
Osgar noticed her lingering gaze drifting longingly toward a nearby table piled invitingly with freshly baked pies. Their golden crusts shone appealingly beneath the tavern's flickering candlelight, and the mouthwatering scent of baked apples and spices filled the air tantalizingly. Leaning forward slightly, he gently nudged her slender arm. "Listen, Lili, if you're hungry for somethin' better, I'd be happy to buy you anything you like. Those pies look mighty good, don't they?"
Her head snapped back toward him, eyes wide with surprise at his generous offer. Immediately, she shook her head vigorously, her silvery-blonde hair fluttering softly beneath her hood. "N-no, I c-couldn't possibly," she stammered quickly, genuine gratitude mingling with embarrassment. "You've already b-been so kind. I-I'd just be t-taking advantage."
"Nonsense," Osgar insisted earnestly, offering a reassuring smile. With casual ease, he lifted the modest coin purse from his belt, allowing the faint jingle of coins to punctuate his words gently. "I've enough coins tonight, Lili. The offer stands—just say the word."
She hesitated, torn between her aching hunger and her deep reluctance to accept more charity from someone who had already helped her. After a moment, she lowered her gaze shyly, her voice soft yet firm. "Th-thank you, Osgar, b-but I'll manage."
He studied her quietly for a moment, clearly impressed by her quiet dignity. Eventually, he nodded gently, clearly respecting her decision. Still, his voice was kind and encouraging as he replied softly, "Fair enough. But don't hesitate if you change your mind."
Sipping more ale to mask the gritty bread's unpleasant taste, Lili turned her attention to Osgar as he began speaking again. His calm voice carried gently over the tavern's lively noise, providing comfort and distraction from her current discomfort.
"Einsway's small but lively," he began warmly, leaning against the bar comfortably. "Tonight's special—celebratin' the harvest, best we've had in years. Been a tough few seasons, y'see, but Prince Arthur's generosity lately has brought some hope. Had the mill built nearby too, bringing coins and work. Good for the village, though not for me personally." His voice briefly grew bitter, his expression tightening. "Cost me my girl, Lisa, that blasted mill. She ran off with Cerdic, the lucky fool who got hired there."
Lili nodded sympathetically, her eyes reflecting genuine empathy. Chewing another bite of the gritty bread slowly, she struggled humorously each time she swallowed, mirroring her deeper anxieties and frustrations. Every gritty mouthful seemed to reinforce the harsh reality of her new existence, underscoring her struggles to adapt and survive in this unfamiliar world.
Yet, as she glanced again toward the delicious pies and felt Osgar's gentle, reassuring presence beside her, a small flicker of hope and warmth began to bloom softly within her heart, gently challenging the uncertainties surrounding her.
After finishing another painstaking bite of gritty bread, Lili took a small sip of ale and let out a quiet sigh. The bitter aftertaste lingered stubbornly, mingling with her mounting frustration and hunger. Her delicate gaze wandered again toward the pies, their golden crusts gleaming tantalizingly under the warm, inviting candlelight. She quickly averted her eyes, determined to ignore the gnawing longing in her empty stomach.
Noticing her internal struggle, Osgar offered another sympathetic smile. "Cheer up, Lili. Village life's rough, no denyin' that—but it's not always this grim. We have good days too."
She nodded gently, mustering a weak smile in return, appreciating his kind reassurance even if she struggled to believe it fully in that moment.
Still, a deeper resolve began quietly stirring inside her. She refused to be defeated by these circumstances, refused to be merely another hungry, helpless villager trapped by poverty and fate. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she lifted her chin with newfound determination.
Suddenly, an idea sparked clearly in her mind, vivid and promising. Her gaze swiftly fixed upon the neglected lute leaning forgotten against the tavern's modest wooden stage, dusty strings barely illuminated by the gentle flicker of candlelight. Her heartbeat quickened, excitement and anxiety blending sharply within her small chest.
Swallowing nervously, Lili raised her voice, calling out clearly above the tavern's noisy din, "M-mister Greg! I… I have an idea!"
Greg turned back toward her, his heavy brows raised skeptically, clearly unimpressed by her sudden boldness. "Eh? What sort o' idea would that be, girl?"
Her small voice trembled slightly yet remained firm as she bravely continued. "C-could I work here to earn m-my food and shelter? I… I c-could perform music!"
A few nearby villagers quieted briefly, intrigued by the unexpected offer from the small, delicate stranger. Greg stared at her thoughtfully, his skepticism clearly deepening. "Music, eh? And just what makes you think you can play an instrument, missy?"
Lili pointed quickly toward the forgotten lute, determination shining vividly in her large, sapphire-blue eyes. "I c-can play the lute! Let me s-show you!"
An amused murmur rippled softly through the tavern. Greg's expression darkened slightly as he glanced toward the dusty lute leaning forlornly against the stage.
"That lute?" he echoed with mild disbelief. A sardonic smirk curved his lips as he shook his head slowly. "Oh, little missy, that lute's cursed—at least that's what everyone 'round here believes. Last bard to touch it fell down dead on that very stage. One minute singing like a songbird, next clutching his chest like he'd been stabbed, flopping around like a landed fish. Poor man didn't even finish his song."
A few villagers chuckled quietly, nodding solemnly in agreement, clearly recalling the unfortunate event. Yet, beneath Greg's humorous description lay a genuine discomfort—a quiet superstition that had kept the instrument untouched and neglected ever since.
Lili's eyes widened in immediate recognition. From Greg's vivid description, she understood exactly what had happened to the unfortunate bard—likely a sudden, fatal heart attack rather than any supernatural curse. A pang of sincere sorrow flickered briefly within her, sadness at the bard's tragic, misunderstood demise.
Yet her resolve remained strong. Straightening her delicate shoulders bravely beneath her oversized cloak, she met Greg's skeptical gaze firmly.
"C-cursed or not, I can honor his m-memory," she declared resolutely, her voice growing steadier with every word. "I can p-put smiles back onto your villagers' faces and—and earn my k-keep. Just l-let me try, p-please."
Greg studied her carefully for a long, thoughtful moment, clearly wrestling with his own doubts and curiosity. The tavern quieted further, villagers now openly watching the small, determined girl with growing interest.
Finally, Greg gave a reluctant nod, his voice cautious yet slightly intrigued. "Alright, lass, I'll humor ya this once. If you reckon you're brave enough—or fool enough—to touch that lute, have at it. Just don't come cryin' to me if spirits carry you off."
A ripple of amused chuckles broke the tense silence around them. Lili exhaled shakily, relief and excitement flooding warmly through her veins. Sliding quickly off her stool, she cast Osgar a grateful, hopeful glance, her heart buoyed by the quiet encouragement shining warmly in his eyes.
Carefully, yet with newfound confidence, Lili made her way purposefully toward the modest stage, determined to prove herself—to Greg, to the watching villagers, and above all, to herself.
As Lili approached the modest stage, her eyes widened slightly in surprise at its unexpected height. The rough wooden platform rose dauntingly before her, coming nearly up to her stomach, clearly designed with adult performers rather than a small, delicate child in mind. She paused momentarily, her heart fluttering with uncertainty as she considered the imposing barrier.
For a fleeting moment, she glanced back toward Osgar, who gave her an encouraging nod, his expression both warm and supportive. Taking comfort from his silent reassurance, Lili felt a surge of quiet determination. She remembered vividly the countless times she had climbed towering trees, scaled rocky ledges, and navigated slippery riverbanks during her years surviving in the forest. Compared to those, this simple wooden stage seemed hardly daunting.
With a renewed sense of confidence, she gathered her oversized cloak carefully around herself, her small hands gripping the rough, splintered edge of the platform firmly. Beneath her delicate fingers, the coarse texture reminded her of rough tree bark, familiar and oddly reassuring. She took a deep breath, steadied her heartbeat, and effortlessly lifted her petite frame upwards, muscles moving fluidly beneath her smooth, porcelain-like skin.
The villagers, who had been idly observing, suddenly took more careful notice as the tiny girl displayed surprising strength and agility. Murmurs rippled quietly through the tavern, admiration and curiosity filling their whispered tones as Lili gracefully maneuvered herself onto the stage. Her slender legs swung easily upward, her lithe body twisting gracefully as she pulled herself onto the platform with practiced ease.
"Did you see that?" whispered a wide-eyed young woman to her companion, her voice filled with quiet amazement.
"Aye, graceful as a forest nymph," murmured an elderly man approvingly, leaning forward in his seat.
Once atop the stage, Lili stood gracefully, dusting off her cloak with a shy yet elegant dignity. Suddenly, she became aware of dozens of expectant eyes fixed intently upon her—curious faces of men, women, and children alike watching closely, awaiting her next move. For a heartbeat, anxiety flickered sharply in her chest, momentarily threatening to overwhelm her newfound confidence.
Closing her eyes briefly, she steadied herself, mentally visualizing the comforting, confident image of Officer Bruce—strong, assured, and commanding. The familiar, vivid memory quickly eased her nerves, allowing a gentle calm to replace her brief moment of anxiety. Opening her eyes once more, her delicate features softened with renewed determination, a faint yet genuine smile gracing her lips.
Carefully, she stepped forward and picked up the neglected lute, its polished wooden surface dimmed beneath layers of dust and grime. Her small, delicate fingers traced gently along its smooth, rounded body, brushing away the accumulated dirt with quiet reverence. Its strings, slightly slack from neglect, offered only faint, muffled tones beneath her gentle touch.
With practiced ease, she adjusted the tuning pegs gently, her fingers tightening and loosening each string methodically. Softly, she hummed clear, pure notes to herself, carefully matching her voice to the instrument's slowly improving sound. Each subtle adjustment sent ripples of curious whispers through the tavern, anticipation steadily building among the villagers.
Several village children, captivated by the unfamiliar sounds and movements, quietly moved closer to the edge of the stage, their wide, curious eyes fixed intently upon the lute and its delicate young player. Their eager expressions—open, innocent, and filled with hopeful curiosity—filled Lili's heart with quiet warmth, gently bolstering her confidence.
She allowed herself a soft, affectionate smile, directing it warmly toward the children gathered nearest her. Then she paused briefly, thoughtfully scanning the tavern's diverse crowd. Her gaze drifted over men with weathered faces lined by years of hardship, women with cautious, weary eyes, elderly villagers whose expressions spoke of quiet, dignified patience. Even teenagers like Osgar watched closely, their youthful expressions filled with cautious optimism and quiet intrigue.
Rapidly, she considered—what sort of song could possibly appeal to such an unfamiliar, varied audience? Her thoughts raced, considering and discarding options quickly, her heart beating faster with each passing moment. She needed something simple yet engaging, humorous yet heartfelt, and—most importantly—cheerful enough to cut through the grimness of everyday medieval life.
Suddenly, inspiration flashed brightly within her mind—a familiar tune from her previous life, both playful and universally delightful. She smiled quietly to herself, decision made clearly and confidently. She adjusted her stance slightly, comfortably balancing the lute in her slender arms, her fingers resting gently upon the strings, poised gracefully for the first note.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, she softly strummed a bright, playful melody—familiar notes instantly lifting spirits and drawing smiles from the fascinated children clustered eagerly at her feet.
"Perfect," she whispered softly to herself, smiling shyly as the melody echoed warmly throughout the hushed tavern. She raised her chin confidently, her clear, angelic voice rising gently and brightly above the crowd:
"Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O…"
Immediately, cheerful laughter erupted softly from villagers caught by surprise. Faces brightened warmly, eyes widening with delighted surprise as the charming, playful song captured their hearts. The joyful melody resonated clearly through the tavern, effortlessly transcending age and hardship, gently uniting every listener through its simple, innocent humor.
Children clapped and giggled joyously, their eager participation quickly encouraging hesitant adults to join in. Men and women exchanged amused, affectionate glances, their smiles spreading naturally, creating an atmosphere of genuine warmth and community.
Lili's confidence blossomed fully, her voice soaring sweetly through each playful verse, captivating the gathered villagers completely. The tavern quickly filled with the cheerful, infectious energy of her performance, each note further cementing her place within the village's heart and gently washing away the lingering shadows of uncertainty from her own.
ChatGPT sanoi:Chapter 16 – Part 7 (Expanded): An Angel Revealed
As Lili joyfully reached the final verse, the tavern had transformed completely—its usual gloom replaced entirely by laughter, clapping, and genuine cheer. Her final notes resonated sweetly, fading gently into silence, leaving a warm afterglow hanging pleasantly in the air.
Breathing deeply, she smiled radiantly, her cheeks flushed with excitement and triumph. Encouraged by the enthusiastic applause and lively cheers from villagers young and old, she gracefully bent into a modest bow, her long platinum-blonde hair shimmering faintly beneath the dim candlelight.
Yet, as she straightened, the oversized hood of her cloak suddenly slipped away from her head, gently pooling around her slender shoulders. The room fell immediately silent as her delicate, striking features were fully revealed for the first time.
Her porcelain skin, flawless and radiant, seemed almost luminous in the soft candle glow. Her long, silky hair cascaded gently around her slender form, catching every flicker of light, its silvery sheen ethereal and mesmerizing. Her vivid sapphire-blue eyes widened shyly, their innocent, expressive depths reflecting quiet surprise and embarrassment at her sudden exposure.
A collective gasp rose softly from the captivated villagers, their eyes widening with wonder and awe.
"Would you look at her…" murmured an elderly woman softly, her eyes misty with admiration. "As lovely as a princess, she is."
"Aye," whispered a young farmer to his companion, awe coloring his hushed tone. "Only noble blood could be so fair—surely she must be royalty."
Speculations quickly rippled through the crowd, whispers filled with fascination and curiosity weaving gently around the tavern, each voice openly expressing amazement at the ethereal beauty before them.
Yet, amid the quiet murmurs, a small, innocent voice suddenly rose clearly from the gathering of children near the stage. A tiny girl gazed upward at Lili with wide, hopeful eyes, her young face alight with wonder.
"Are you an angel, miss?" she asked earnestly, her small voice ringing clearly through the tavern.
Gentle laughter immediately rippled warmly among the villagers, affectionate smiles spreading fondly across their faces. Lili blushed deeply, her cheeks turning a charming shade of pink as she smiled shyly down at the child.
"N-no, sweetie," she stammered softly, warmth and affection filling her gentle voice. "I'm n-not an angel. I'm j-just Lili."
Her modesty and innocence only deepened the villagers' admiration, their fondness clearly visible. Immediately, enthusiastic voices rose from around the room, villagers eagerly calling out with bright smiles and cheerful anticipation:
"Please, Miss Lili—sing us another!"
"Aye, another song! Keep the music going!"
"You've brought life to this dreary old village—don't stop now!"
Lili felt a joyful warmth fill her chest, her heart buoyed by their eager demands. She laughed softly, nodding happily as the children cheered delightedly at her agreement.
"Alright!" she called out brightly, her confidence blossoming fully within the lively, supportive atmosphere. "I'll s-sing another!"
The villagers erupted into hearty applause, their smiles wide and genuine as she carefully adjusted her lute once more, the strings now resonating sweetly beneath her practiced touch. The feeling of genuine belonging—something she'd deeply longed for—swept warmly through her, replacing all traces of anxiety and fear. In that perfect moment, she knew she had found her place and purpose among these humble yet welcoming people.
Yet as the joyful melody once again filled the tavern, darker eyes watched carefully from the shadowy corner of the room, unnoticed beneath the celebration. At a small, secluded table, the secretive Kane Brothers sat hunched forward, their faces partially concealed beneath heavy hoods. Their intense gazes studied the small, captivating girl performing effortlessly on stage, their expressions grim and calculating.
"Did ya see how the villagers reacted to her?" murmured the eldest brother coldly, his voice edged with greed. "Girl sings like an angel—looks noble-born too. She could fetch us a fortune, easy."
"Aye," nodded another brother, his voice low and dangerous. "Imagine the ransom her family would pay. Or perhaps we keep her—make her our personal bard. Villages far and wide would pay dearly to see her sing."
The third brother leaned forward eagerly, his voice even darker. "We wait till everyone's distracted or drunk, then quietly snatch her. Before dawn, we'll be miles away. The girl'll be ours to profit from."
The brothers exchanged silent, grim nods, their plotting masked beneath the joyful celebration around them. Completely unaware of the silent threat gathering in the shadows, Lili continued to sing sweetly, her heart filled with newfound hope and happiness. Her mind began swiftly planning, already considering how she might leverage her popularity and newfound position to better her life, and perhaps even improve the lives of these villagers.
She remained blissfully unaware of the challenges and dangers swiftly approaching—danger hidden quietly beneath the villagers' smiles and laughter, waiting silently within the darkness.