The night had settled deep over the town, cloaking it in a quiet, heavy darkness. Outside his tavern, a stout man with a thick belly and worn-out apron stood by the doorway, casting one last gaze at the empty, dim-lit street. With a sigh, he reached for the sturdy wooden door and swung it shut, the soft creak of its hinges cutting through the silence. He heaved his weight against it, locking the latch firmly, ensuring it was shut tight against any unexpected visitors who might stumble by after hours.
The man paused, wiping a aty hand across his balding head and glancing back at the darkened windows. Inside, the tavern was now empty of the raucous voices and laughter that had filled it only an hour before, its tables scattered with the remnants of the evening's patrons—a few forgotten mugs, a discarded cloak, crumbs littering the floor.
With one last look at his quiet tavern, he turned and began the slow trudge back to his small room above, where a cold bed awaited him and the long, silent hours of night stretched ahead.
As the tavern keeper turned from the locked door, the faint sound of footsteps reached his ears, breaking the silence. He froze, as the darkness three n erged , their figures concealed by heavy cloaks that swept around their boots. They moved with a quiet confidence, stopping just a few paces away.
One of them tilted his head, his voice smooth and calm as he spoke. "Evening," he greeted, a vague politeness in his tone that carried an edge. "Would you be Aldwin?"
The tavern keeper straightened, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He knew his regulars and these n were not among them. He kept his voice steady, though his heart quickened. "Who's asking?" he said gruffly, his gaze darting to each of their shadowed faces.
The man in the center chuckled softly, stepping forward. "Ah, no one important," he replied with an easy shrug. "Just a few…concerned friends of a young man." He emphasized the words lightly, with an expression that hinted at sothing unspoken.
Aldwin swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly against the cool tal of the padlock. "Friends, you say?" he repeated, his voice wary. "Seems a bit late to be dropping in, wouldn't you think?"
One of the n—a lanky figure with a rough scar running from his jawline to his temple—stepped forward, lowering his hood slightly. His face held a hard smile, and his gaze was steady as he spoke.
"Perhapse.... do you think it is too late for a friendly conversation?" he asked with a casual tone, tilting his head as though making polite conversation. "I believe we've co across a matter that involves your daughter. Young fellow nad Lucius has been… spending ti with her." His mouth twisted in a mocking smile. "Odd, though. You don't seem too thrilled about that arrangent."
Aldwin stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "My daughter's business is no concern of yours," he replied coldly.
The man chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back at his companions, who rely folded their arms, watching the scene with faint amusent. "You misunderstand," he said, returning his gaze to the tavern's owner "We aren't here for gossip. We're here on behalf of a few people who feel that your dislike towards the boy is unfounded.And we would just like to know the reason''
Aldwin's jaw clenched, his brows knit together, suspicion clear in his eyes. "Who's asking?"
The man gave a slight, disarming smile. "Nobody important. Just a few concerned friends of Lucius. He's a good lad, loyal and hardworking. So when we hear he's got plans to settle down, raise a family—soone like him, you'd think he'd have a bit more luck convincing a father-in-law to give him a fair shot."
Aldwin crossed his arms, his stance defensive. "If Lucius put you up to this—"
The man held up a hand, stopping him. "Oh no, Lucius doesn't know we're here. You see, he is too soft for this . Hasn't spoken much other than a word of complaint about your resistance—keeps saying he'll work harder. But that's what bothers us, you see. He's willing to do his part, so we thought perhaps you'd need a little insight into just who he is."
Aldwin's voice was cold, though a sliver of uncertainty had crept into his eyes. "What is it you're after?"
"We're after nothing but a fair chance for a man who deserves one," the man said smoothly. "Lucius doesn't co from the sa luck as so, sure, but he's earned every bit of respect he gets. So we're here to… encourage a bit of understanding.Soldiers after all must support each other..."
Aldwin looked away, unwilling to yield but clearly troubled by their words. "If Lucius deserves a chance, he'll earn it without anyone twisting my arm. I've raised my daughter to know her own worth, and I'll see she ends up with a good man."
The man's face darkened, and he took a nacing step forward. "Let make this clear, Aldwin: if you won't do as we've asked, then maybe you're the one who needs reminding of how… fragile things can be around here.Be it your bones or how well your establishnt can go in the upcoming days"
Aldwin raised his chin defiantly. "You do whatever you think you need to, but I'm not changing my mind. You're wasting your breath."
The three n exchanged cold glances, their expressions hardening into sothing far less civil.
Aldwin knew better than to let them have their way, he reached under his tunic and pulled out a dagger, showing he was ard .
The tallest of the n laughed—a low, cold sound. In a swift motion, he seized Aldwin's wrist, wrenching the dagger from his grip and flinging it to the ground. Before Aldwin could even shout, his face was slamd against the rough wood of the tavern door, the sharp edge of a dagger pressed firmly against his neck.
The man holding him down leaned in, voice a venomous whisper. "You think we ca here to play gas? Think you can spit on a friendly suggestion?"
Aldwin struggled, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts as the dagger bit ever so slightly into his skin.
The man pressed him harder against the door. "You're not doing us any favors, old man. So think about that before you go waving a blade, especially to people that risk their lives for you.Perhapse you are in line for so corrections."
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The three n walked briskly down the narrow cobbled street, their dark cloaks blending with the deep shadows cast by the overhanging rooftops. One of them, glancing nervously over his shoulder, broke the silence. "Marcus, are you sure we won't get into trouble over this? What if he goes to the city guards?"
Marcus threw his head back with a quiet laugh, clapping his companion on the shoulder. "Relax. He didn't see our faces, and even if he did, the guards here? They'll likely ignore him."
The man gave Marcus a skeptical look, and Marcus smirked, explaining further. "See, they don't like us stirring up trouble, sure. We can't skip out on dues, and they don't want us committing actual cris—no thieving, no killing, that's for certain." He chuckled, shaking his head. "But if a man is just trying to marry and live a little more comfortably? Now that, they'll turn a blind eye to, espeically coming from a brother in arms..."
His companion relaxed slightly, and the three walked on, footsteps fading into the night as they left the quiet tavern and the rattled barkeep behind them.
"Look, we're as safe as if we were locked in an iron casket," Marcus said, his voice light and teasing. He gestured animatedly, his confidence infectious. "And to thank you two for helping out tonight, I'll treat you to drinks tomorrow. My treat!"
His companion relaxed slightly, and the three walked on, footsteps fading into the night as they left the quiet tavern and the rattled barkeep behind them.
"Drinks on Marcus? You sure you got the money?" one of them joked, though his expression was still showing a bit of nervousness.
"Don't worry, I have just stolen a few coins from Fattie's pocket," he shot back, laughter rolling through the air like the warm glow of lanterns lighting up the street.
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