Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 77: To no more cursed bread

The inn was a squat, timber-framed building nestled between a row of shops at the edge of the harbor square. A swinging wooden sign hung above the door, painted with a faded emblem of a crowned boar holding a mug of ale — The Golden Boar Inn. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but once they stepped inside, the warmth and scent of cooked meat hit them like a blessing from the gods.

The air was rich with smoke from the fireplace, laughter, and the clink of mugs. A bard played a gentle tune on a stringed lyre in the corner, and the firelight danced off the walls as if welcoming them to forget their troubles. For a moment, they could almost pretend they weren’t on a dangerous mission. For a moment, they were just people — tired, hungry, and alive.

Sera clapped her hands together as they stepped through the doorway. "Alright, everyone grab a table. I’ll handle the food."

"You’re an angel," Mariel muttered, already scanning the room for a good spot to collapse.

"An angel with coin," Sera said with a grin, slipping past a few patrons and toward the bar.

The dwarf, gave a low grunt, adjusting the belt on his thick waist. "I’ll sort out the rooms. Don’t want no snorin’ Marcus sharin’ with me if I can help it."

Marcus scoffed, nudging Liam with a smirk. "He’s still mad I out-drank him on the ship."

"Please," the Dwarf called over his shoulder. "You drank one barrel and passed out snorin’ like a dying bear."

They all chuckled as they made their way to a large oak table near the center of the tavern. Chairs creaked and boots scraped against the wooden floor as they settled in. Liam leaned back, stretching with a groan as if he were finally releasing every knot in his body.

"This," Marcus declared, throwing his arms over the back of his chair, "this is what paradise feels like. Not bread so hard it chips your teeth. Not stew made of saltwater and fish bones. Real food. Real ale."

"Don’t jinx it," Sophia said, resting her arms on the table. "Let’s make sure the food actually shows up first."

"Oh come on," Marcus waved a hand. "Sera always comes through."

True to his words, Sera returned not long after with two barmaids trailing behind her, each carrying wooden trays loaded with steaming plates. Roasted pork glistened under the lamplight, mashed potatoes piled high with thick gravy, and mugs of foaming ale clanked onto the table one after another.

"Gods above," Jason whispered, staring at the feast as if afraid it might vanish. "Is this real?"

"It’s real," Liam said, grinning as he grabbed a fork. "And it’s ours."

They dove in.

Marcus was the loudest, tearing into his pork like a starving wolf. "I’m not even gonna pretend to eat like a gentleman," he mumbled through a mouthful. "I’ll fight anyone who tries to stop me."

"Who’s stopping you?" Eleanor quipped, cutting her meat with surgical precision. "We’re just trying not to lose our appetites."

Sophia chuckled and stole a piece of meat off Marcus’s plate with her fork. He glared at her, then narrowed his eyes in mock offense.

"Really?" he said. "You’ve got your own."

"You’re eating like a bear," she replied. "You won’t even notice it’s gone."

Jason, chewing on a slice of bread soaked in gravy, leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "This might be the happiest moment of my life."

From across the room, Von and his two towering companions sat at a separate table, tearing through their food in near silence. One of them, the bald one with the scar across his cheek, grunted approvingly with every bite.

Von lifted his mug slightly toward Liam’s table — a quiet toast — and Liam nodded back with respect.

Mariel sat beside Liam, her cheeks pink with the warmth of the fire and the giddy freedom she still hadn’t fully processed. "I don’t think I’ve had food this good in a long while."

"You lived in a cabin with Ander," Jason said, shaking his head. " Despite his richies, that man thinks dried jerky is a delicacy."

Mariel giggled. "It’s true. I used to sneak and buy fruits and other delicacies whenever I could."

"Sounds like you," Liam said, smiling. "But I’m glad you’re here, Mariel."

She looked at him, surprised by the sudden sincerity. "I am too. I really am."

Their eyes lingered for a beat longer than usual before Marcus loudly slammed his mug on the table. "To real food!" he shouted. "To freedom! And to no more cursed bread!"

They all raised their mugs, laughter following as foam spilled onto their hands.

"To no more cursed bread!" they echoed.

The warmth of the room wrapped around them like a soft cloak. It had been a long road. A painful road. But tonight, for just this one evening, they could rest.

_____

The warmth of the tavern had begun to fade into the hush of night as the bustle of the Golden Boar Inn gave way to dim candlelight and heavy silence. Outside, the wind whispered through narrow alleyways, rattling loose shutters and carrying the scent of brine and salt through cracks in the wooden walls. Inside, the travelers were weary from the road and the sea — full bellies and dulled senses guiding them toward the promise of sleep.

The dwarf stomped up the stairs first, a key in hand and a mutter on his lips. "Three bloody rooms. For all of us. I swear, if Marcus so much as breathes in my direction tonight—"

"Maybe if you didn’t snore like a dying ox," Marcus grunted as he hauled his axe up over his shoulder, "people might choose to bunk with you instead of being cursed by fate."

"I snore?" the dwarf barked, wheeling around at the top of the steps. "Lad, your snorin’ sounds like a thunderstorm fightin’ a hurricane in a cave!"

Jason chuckled from behind them, swaying a little from the drink but sharp as ever. "And yet somehow, I’m the one sharing the room with both of you. I demand hazard pay."

"You can have Marcus’s blanket," Liam muttered dryly. "I’ll take the bed near the window."

"Like hell you will!" Marcus barked. "That’s the only bed with decent leg room."

The dwarf threw open the door to their room with a grunt. It was a cramped, wood-paneled space with two beds pushed against the walls and a straw mattress on the floor. There was a small wash basin in the corner and a cracked window letting in the cool sea air.

"By the gods," Jason said, stepping inside and looking around. "This is cozy in the way a coffin is cozy."

"I’ll take the floor," Liam offered with a shrug. "Better than another night with a cannonball under my spine."

"You’re too noble for your own good," Jason muttered, dropping his bag at the foot of a bed. "I’ll just use Marcus as a pillow."

"You’ll lose a finger," Marcus growled.

The dwarf was already pulling off his boots. "Let’s just agree no one makes noise. No snoring, no singing, no fartin’ louder than a whisper."

"Then you better sleep outside," Marcus shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

---

Down the hall, in a quieter corner of the inn, the girls were settling into their own room. Compared to the boys’ quarters, theirs was slightly larger — a soft carpet underfoot, a wide hearth along one wall with a flickering ember, and two beds large enough to share.

Mariel stepped inside last, carefully shutting the door behind her. She looked around, unsure for a moment where to go, her pack clutched in both hands. Sera was already claiming one half of the nearer bed, unrolling a blanket and humming softly.

Eleanor stood near the window, checking the locks, while Sophia sat at the edge of the other bed, quietly unlacing her boots with a stiff expression.

Mariel smiled awkwardly, setting her pack down near the foot of the bed Sophia was on. "I, um... I’ll just take this side, if that’s okay?"

Sophia gave a short nod without looking up. "Sure."

The coldness in her tone wasn’t overt — but it wasn’t missed either.

Mariel swallowed and moved quietly. She began unpacking her nightclothes, her fingers fumbling a little with the buttons as the tension in the room pressed down like fog.

Sera caught it too. She paused, glancing between Sophia and Mariel. "Everyone alright?" she asked lightly, brushing her hair back. "We actually survived pirates, and ocean madness. Seems like a good time to relax."

Sophia said nothing, her jaw set as she pulled off her gloves one finger at a time.

Eleanor answered for them all. "We’re fine. Just... tired."

"Of course," Sera said gently. "Aren’t we all."

Mariel sat down on the bed, facing away from Sophia, but she could feel the cool distance between them. The smile that had touched her lips earlier had vanished now. She’d expected some awkwardness — she wasn’t stupid — but the silent tension between the girls felt more like a wall than a passing mood.

Sophia’s gaze flicked briefly toward Mariel’s back, then turned to the fire.

And Mariel noticed something else too. The glances — subtle and sharp — that Sophia and Eleanor both gave toward Sera from time to time. Not overt, but there. A little wary. A little... guarded. Like someone watching a flame that might grow too large.

Sera either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She climbed into her side of the bed and pulled the covers over herself with a satisfied sigh. "I’m just glad to be horizontal and not rocking side to side like a barrel."

Eleanor turned away from the window and dropped into the opposite bed, beside Sophia. "Let’s just hope the beds don’t have lice."

"Oh gods, why would you say that?" Mariel groaned.

Sophia gave a faint snort — the closest thing to a laugh she’d let out all evening. But even that faded fast as silence settled between them again.

Mariel curled up on her side, facing the wall. The room grew quiet, save for the occasional creak of the inn and the low hum of wind through the window.

"Good night," Sera offered softly.

"Night," Eleanor replied.

Mariel said nothing.

Sophia didn’t either.

In the third room at the far end of the hallway, Von and his two towering companions, Gorr and Threk, had already made themselves at home. The room was simple — just a single bed and thick fur rugs sprawled across the wooden floor.

Von sat cross-legged on one of the rugs, polishing the edge of his club with a cloth, while Gorr snored loudly in the corner, sprawled out with one arm over his face. Threk was leaning against the wall, already half-asleep, arms folded over his chest.

"Peaceful," Von muttered, glancing toward the ceiling as the faint muffled sounds of bickering came from the other rooms. He smirked. "Humans talk too much."

He leaned back, placed his weapon beside him, and shut his eyes.

Within minutes, the room was silent—save for the chorus of snores from the three massive warriors, sleeping like stones after a long war.