Rise Online: Return of the Legendary Player

While the dark elves began to drink in the village tavern, Talfor worked hard to tidy up the stables, where the Shaccares, large and ferocious black cats, waited impatiently. The old stables were rusty, with damaged roofs and rough weathered walls, but they were the best the village had to offer.

Valthorn and the other soldiers dumped balls and gadgets on the floor, laughing loudly and exchanging harsh words in their guttural way of speaking.

Inside the tavern, tension hung in the air. The dwarves who were there drinking and chatting at rustically carved wooden tables glanced nervously at the dark elves who occupied most of the tables, avoiding their gazes completely. The tavern keeper served beer and food with trembling hands, fearing the reaction of the newcomers.

Valthorn, with his penetrating gaze, watched every move. While his subordinates devoured their food and drank in silence, he sat in a larger chair with a smile on his face.

Talfor, after ensuring that the Shaccares were comfortably placed, returned to the tavern, prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead. He took a deep breath before entering. As he entered, Valthorn, who was in the center of the tavern, surrounded by his subordinates, spotted Talfor.

"Ah, Talfor, come and sit with us. You don't want to be rude, do you?" he said, forcing a wry smile. This was his way of showing the other dwarves what power was.

Talfor nodded, approaching the central table where Valthorn stood. He pulled up a chair and sat down hesitantly. "How can I help you, Valthorn?" he asked, maintaining a respectful but firm tone of voice.

Valthorn ignored the question for a moment, appraising Talfor with cold eyes. "Talfor, you're brave. That's something I don't often see in the dwarves of these lands. You must have a lot of confidence in yourself."

Talfor kept his gaze steady, without flinching. "I serve my village, Valthorn. And it is my duty to protect my people, after all, this is my home. We are willing to fulfill our obligations and..."

Valthorn let out a mocking laugh, interrupting the dwarf. "Home? This village is a pile of stones and wood. But don't worry, we're not here to cause trouble. We're here to get what we need, and then we'll leave as usual. You know how it works."

Talfor raised his eyes and looked at Valthorn. This time, he stared into the eyes of the leader of this gathering garrison. At that moment, Talfor noticed that Valthorn actually believed he wasn't doing anything much, as if it was natural for the dwarves to be his servants and live in such precarious situations. Talfor clenched his hands into fists and bowed his head again.

The dwarf's reaction was noticed by Valthorn's shrewd eyes. Silence enveloped the tavern as Valthorn let out a deep laugh, his voice echoing off the aged wooden beams. Both the locals and Valthorn's subordinates looked on in surprise and confusion.

Valthorn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze fixed on Talfor. "Talfor, I am fair, fairer than many realize. I see that you are a respected leader here, and I appreciate that. So, in the spirit of fairness, I propose a game, a game that could change the course of this evening for both of us."

Talfor raised an eyebrow, cautious. "What kind of game do you propose? I don't think we have much time to waste on entertainment, given the situation."

Valthorn smiled, revealing sharp teeth. "Oh, don't worry, we won't waste much time. The game is simple, something everyone here can understand. A game of dice, a quick round of luck. If you win, all the supplies we've collected will be returned to your village, no questions asked. If I win, however..." He paused, observing Talfor's reaction before continuing.

"You will double the amount of tribute that will be delivered to us in the next collection. Fair game, don't you think?"

Talfor's gaze became even more serious. He looked around, seeing everyone's reaction. The murmurs in the tavern began to grow, the dwarves exchanging worried glances while Valthorn's subordinates were also tense, aware that their leader was risking something considerable, after all, if they returned with nothing from this village, the lord would be furious.

"Valthorn, you're crueler than I thought..." Talfor declared, keeping his voice steady. "We know that, for you, everything is a game, but for us, it's a question of survival. You know that, don't you?"

The dark elf laughed again, but this time there was a hint of disgust in his laugh. "Maybe you're wiser than you look too, Talfor. However, I am a man of my word. If you win, your village will no longer suffer from our demands for a considerable time. If I win, well... you already know the conditions."

Talfor looked around, sensing the growing nervousness among the other dwarves in the tavern. This wasn't the kind of decision that should be made in haste, but it was also a unique opportunity, and making a hasty decision could lead to disastrous consequences.

The suspense in the tavern was almost palpable when Valthorn's voice dissipated, leaving the echo of the proposal hanging in the air.

However, before Talfor could formulate a response, the tavern door opened with a creak, revealing a mysterious figure. A figure wrapped in a dark cloak entered accompanied by a bitterly cold wind. The silence in the tavern was completely overridden by the sound of the gale.

The stranger advanced a few steps after the door closed. His eyes, visible only through the shadows of his hood, surveyed the scene with piercing intensity. It was difficult to discern his race. By his height, he certainly wasn't a dwarf, and by his light skin, which contrasted with his dark clothing, he certainly wasn't a dark elf, who has bluish skin.

For a moment, Valthorn looked away from Talfor to stare at the newcomer. His expression revealed a mixture of surprise and distrust, rare emotions in someone used to controlling every situation.