When Daren cries and explains his debt, some of the dialogue is a bit of an "exposition dump." I tightened it so it feels more like a natural, emotional conversation.
Here is the fully proofread and polished version of your draft. I kept your exact pacing, story, and voice, but sharpened the sword:
"What is it?" asked Lexel, crossing his arms.
Anthierin hadn't expected the pushback, but all she could muster was a raised eyebrow.
The guards exchanged a look of sheer disbelief. In the city of Einjaar, everyone bowed to the gatekeepers—merchants, civilians, everyone.
"Are you daft?" the first guard sneered. "You come to Einjaar, and you expect to enter for free?"
"How much is it?" asked Anthierin.
"See, the lass gets it," the second guard said, flashing a greasy smile as he sized Anthierin up and down. "The entry cost is 10G." He leaned his face forward, close enough for Lexel to smell the stale ale and rotting teeth on his breath. "But since your 'boyfriend' is acting like an ass, it'll be 40G... each."
"That's daylight robbery!" Anthierin snapped.
The guards chuckled. "What can you do about it?"
Lexel snatched the coin pouch from Anthierin's hand. He dangled it over the guard's outstretched glove, then dropped a meager handful of coins into the leather.
"There," Lexel said, grabbing Anthierin's hand and stepping past them toward the gate.
"Hey!" The guard shouted, grabbing Lexel hard by the shoulder.
"Is something wrong?" asked Lexel, stopping in his tracks.
"Of course something is wrong! Can't you count?! There's only 20G here!" the guard barked. Beside him, his partner stepped forward, leveling the blade of his halberd directly at Lexel's throat.
Lexel glanced around. The nearby civilians were already shrinking back, terrified of the gatekeepers. "You really like abusing your power, huh?" Lexel noted.
"So?" the guard sneered. "Cough up the other 60G, and we won't have a problem."
Lexel smirked. "Well... let me abuse mine."
He casually reached up, grabbed the halberd's steel blade, and crushed it in his bare hand like dry clay. Before either guard could process the impossible sight, Lexel snapped a devastating kick directly into the first guard's chestplate.
"Guha!" Blood sprayed the cobblestones.
The second guard watched his partner launch backward through the gate, blood churning from his lips. When he turned back around, a massive palm suddenly engulfed his entire face.
"Lexel!"
Lexel raised his brows, his killing intent halting just short of lethal. He looked over to see Anthierin shaking her head furiously. "Don't do it. Not now."
"Hmm... right."
Lexel released his grip, revealing the guard's trembling, pinpoint pupils. He patted the terrified man on the shoulder. "You'll live. Stop pretending."
Lexel laughed and reached for Anthierin's hand again, only for her to swat it away.
"Phew~ so cold," Lexel teased.
The remaining guard swallowed a heavy lump of spit, his eyes blinking rapidly as he processed that he was still breathing. He turned and scrambled over to his partner, dropping to his knees. "Oi, you're still alive."
"I... I think I'm gonna take a day off or two," the first guard wheezed, coughing up another splatter of blood.
His partner looked down at the steel chestplate. It was caved completely inward. The flesh beneath was already a sickening, bruised black. A single, casual kick had done that. "I... I think you need a healer," the guard stammered. "You're dying."
—
The city of Einjaar. A beauty buried by corruption and ego.
Lexel didn't hide his disappointment. The cobblestones were cracked and worn. The civilians shuffled along with their heads down, faces gaunt and unfriendly. It was a bleakness Lexel wasn't used to—even the rowdiest corners of Empyrean had life to them.
"Lexel, let's hit the weapon shop first. There is an old friend here that I want to meet," said Anthierin.
"Lead the way, madam," Lexel said with a charming smile.
Anthierin just rolled her eyes.
After several streets and a couple of turns, Lexel spotted a dangling wooden sign displaying a sword and armor. Anthierin pushed open the door, and Lexel followed her inside. It was a neat, well-maintained armory. Rows of standard weapons lined the walls, sturdy boots sat on racks, and a few rare accessories were locked safely inside glass display cases. However...
"There's no one here," Lexel noted.
Anthierin cleared her throat. "Excuse me!" she called out. "Uncle Daren?"
"That voice... Anthierin?" A head peeked out from the back room. It belonged to a middle-aged man dressed in the neat, albeit worn, clothing of a merchant.
"Yeah, long time no see, Uncle Daren," Anthierin smiled.
"Yes, it has been a very, very long time indeed," Daren beamed, stepping out from behind the counter. He paused as he noticed the imposing figure standing behind her. "...and you are?"
"Lexel," he said, offering his hand. "They call me her husband."
"W-What? Are we still playing that game?!" Anthierin hissed, her cheeks flushing red. "Stop it, Lexel, there is no need to maintain that facade anymore!"
"Well," Lexel crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow with a cheeky smirk. "We can make it real if you want."
"Hahaha," Daren laughed, cutting through their bickering. "I don't know what your actual relationship is, but..." He trailed off, shooting Anthierin a look of sudden uncertainty. "Is he in this city?" Anthierin asked, her tone shifting.
Lexel slightly furrowed his brows at the sudden change in atmosphere.
"Not yet," Daren shook his head. "But there's a growing rumor that he'll make an appearance soon."
"Why?"
Daren pointed to a worn pamphlet glued to the wall.
'Join the Einjaar Battle Royal! Win a mountain of G's and an exclusive weapon of your choosing! Only for combatants under Lv20.' "The annual Einjaar Battle Royal," Anthierin muttered. "Is he participating?"
Daren shook his head. "I doubt it. You can't participate twice if you won it the last time."
"Are those prize weapons tailored by you?" Lexel suddenly cut in.
Daren sighed heavily. "I... yes. In a sense."
"What's the matter?" asked Lexel.
Daren licked his dry lips. "The winner gets to choose any weapon from my shop for free."
"Uncle Daren... are you not getting anything out of this?" asked Anthierin, her voice laced with concern.
"Sadly, no. I fell behind on my taxes, and the baron took this opportunity to squeeze me." Daren looked down at his boots.
Lexel noticed Anthierin's nails biting deep into her own palms. He looked at the merchant. "This isn't the first time he's done this, is it?"
"No..." Daren whispered, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He quickly swiped them away. "I-I'm sorry, Anthierin."
"Oh, Uncle..." Anthierin's words caught in her throat.
"I'm just glad we could meet again while I still have the shop," Daren offered a weak smile. "Though, it looks like I won't be able to send you your monthly allowance anymore."
"Uncle... why didn't you say anything?" Anthierin's eyes were already glassy. "You could have told me! I can stand up for myself now."
"I couldn't," Daren shook his head. "What would I say to your father later if I didn't help you when you were struggling? I treat you like my own daughter. That's what I promised him."
"How much do you owe the baron?" Lexel asked flatly.
Daren blinked, surprised by the direct question. "I... about 10,000G."
Lexel turned his head toward Anthierin. "How much do we have?"
"Lexel? Y-You don't have to—"
"It's alright. How much?" Lexel insisted.
"About 8,000G," she admitted.
"Damn, just short, huh?" Lexel scratched the back of his head. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck with a loud pop. "How many G's do you win from the Battle Royal?"
"3,000G," Anthierin said, her eyes widening as she realized his plan. "Lexel, you couldn't possibly."
"Oh, it's possible, alright," Lexel grinned. Besides, Mom would beat the shit out of me if I let an honest guy lose his shop over some tax.
"Anthierin... you have a good husband!" Daren cried, pulling her into a sudden hug.
"He's not my— Lexel, where are you going?!" Anthierin spun around.
"Can't you hear it? There's a crowd forming," Lexel said. He had already opened the door and was peering out into the street.
"Ah... it must be the envoy for the event overseer arriving," Daren said, glancing at Anthierin. "Do you still want to get a glimpse of him again?"
Anthierin's face completely fell. Her mood dropped harder than Lexel's kick at the gate.
"Well, whether you want to see him or not, your husband is already gone," Daren noted.
"Huh? Lexel?!" Anthierin looked back at the door. It was swinging shut, the street outside empty of the arrogant heir. "Crap!" she cursed, bolting after him in a panic.
Daren tried to reach out, but his hand was left hanging in the air. With a sigh of relief, a warm smile curved across his face.
Anthierin sprinted over the cobblestones, her heavy forging hammer bouncing against her thigh as she rounded the corner toward the main street. Then, as the crowd came into view, her pupils shrank.
A man sat atop a towering white horse, dressed in pristine adventurer's garb. An exquisitely crafted scabbard hung at his waist. His hair, as blue as the afternoon sky, was tied back in a neat knot. He had the lean, predatory build of a master swordsman.
And at that exact moment... his eyes met hers.
"Kain..." she muttered, every letter igniting a painful memory.