“Linus!” the coarse voice shouted over the sound of the tavern, “Linus! Get over here, there’s work to do!”

“Calm down, Father. I’m coming over,” Linus hollered over his shoulder as half stood from his seat.

Thinking back, Linus could only remember a handful of times when The Soaring Hawk was ever this busy. He and his father typically only hosted such a crowd when trade caravans were passing through Highfrost, which were increasingly becoming less and less common since Nor invaded southwards in the last war, occupying most, if not all, of Ambermarc.

They did, however, still have regulars. Mostly just traders who live and work in Highfrost, occasionally soldiers from Lutaph or Ambermarc patrolling the border. Soldiers from Nor were, thankfully, not as common. It was one of the soldiers companies from Lutaph that filled the inn tonight. They were kinder and more disciplined than the Ambermarcan soldiers. That certainly didn’t stop them from emptying a cask or two while they were in town.

Linus always loved meeting the people traveling through Highfrost. Over the course of his life in The Soaring Hawk, Linus had met two troubadours, three trobairitz, a man claiming to be a magus, plenty of well-traveled soldiers, and even a Zvntr manhunter. As much as Linus enjoyed meeting these new and exciting people, it was always a treat when the old storyteller Ganorran came through town. They were mid-conversation when Linus’ father had called him over.

“Sounds like Orion has need of you, boy,” Ganorran leaned back in his seat. “Better get to it.”

“Come on, Uncle Gan,” Linus said, “just one more quick story. He probably just wants me cleaning glasses. And I’m seventeen now, I haven’t been a boy for over a year!”

“Well then, young man,” he chuckled kindly, “if you’re going to own this tavern one day, then you need to keep pulling your weight. Now, go help your father.”

“All right, all right. But you owe me a story, and it better be a good one.”

“They always are.” Ganorran’s words were accompanied with a sly wink and playful smile.

Linus smiled and reluctantly began to make his way over to the bar counter, grabbing the occasional empty glass on his way over. He had always had a slight build, which Jad and Thea never let him forget growing up. It did have the occasional perk, and by now he had learned to use his size to his advantage when navigating through crowds. Slipping in and out through the patrons, Linus finally made it over to his father.

His father was a little bit of a portly man, his gut a bit larger than he usually liked to admit. Linus still occasionally teased him about it. His skin was darker than the night sky, and his head balder than the top of a mountain. Traces of curly graying hair showed out of the top of his shirt, the top of which was usually only loosely tied. The Soaring Hawk was the central hub of Highfrost, and while the town didn’t have an official leader, most looked up to Orion for advice or guidance.

“’Bout time,” Orion looked over his shoulder from pouting two more glasses of ale as Linus set the dirtied ones on the counter. “I need you to go out back to the cellar and bring up a new cask of ale, this one’s nearly done.”

“But I’m the one who brought that one in!” Linus scratched the back of his short, curly hair. He had always hated bringing in the casks. Even with the wagon, they were still heavy.

“I don’t have time for a debate right now, Linus,” he handed the two freshly poured glasses and began grabbing the used ones Linus had brought up. “Now be off.”

With a sigh Linus began to make his way to the side door that lead out back to the cellar entrance. He grabbed his fur jacket from a hook by the door, and wrapped a wool scarf around his neck before stepping out into the cold night. What little wind there was cut through Linus, chilling him to the core. He always hated the cold, and was thankful that his job kept him inside most of the time. There were a few hunters, like Jad, and herbalists in town whose work often took them outside, even during the bitter night on occasion.

Grabbing the rickety wagon, he began to trudge around towards the back of the tavern. Despite being cold, it was a nice enough night. Several of the moons shinned brightly in the sky, aloft in an ocean of glittering stars.

Maybe I should just be a poet, move somewhere warmer, Linus chuckled to himself. He often thought about leaving Highfrost, but never seriously. His father was the only family he had, and besides, he couldn’t leave Jad behind like that. Jad loved Highfrost, and had always been proud to live there. Linus didn’t dislike Highfrost, by any means. Living there was easy for him, since he already had a future career lined up, inheriting The Soaring Hawk one day. Besides, living in Highfrost meant never having to work on a farm, since it was purely a trade town.

Linus’ thoughts were suddenly interrupted by voices around the corner, behind the general store that stood next to the tavern.

“Listen here, girl, give me all ya got and maybe we all get out of this in one piece, alright?” a slimy voice spoke out in the darkness.

“How about you put that knife away and I will let you leave here still able to use that hand,” answered a steely woman’s voice.

“Look’t you, quite the nerve ya got, huh?”

Linus had chased of vagabonds before, they just usually weren’t armed like this one sounded to be. Quietly grabbing a shovel, deciding it might be best to knock this one out, he crept over to where the voices were coming from, and got a full view of the scene.

The man certainly was some sort of vagabond, hunched over with messy hair and dressed in rags. He was pointing an old rusty dagger at the woman, and beginning to creep closer to her. She didn’t look like the rest of the people with the caravan. She had red hair, for one. Most of the caravaneers were blonde. Dark green and orange clothes wrapped around her body, and she held what looked to be some sort of staff in her right hand. Oddly enough, she seemed very relaxed from Linus’s perspective.

Linus continued to creep forward, and could have sworn she briefly glanced over to him. I must’ve just imagined it, he thought to himself, no way she wouldn’t have called out for help if she saw me.

Now within reach of the man, Linus raised the shovel above his head and swung it down as hard as he could on his head. Only, the man didn’t collapse like how Linus imagined he would.

“Cressis!” he exclaimed as he began to turn around to face Linus, who was now beginning to back away. “What in the-”

A loud thwack interrupted him mid-sentence. As he fell to the ground unconscious, Linus once again saw the woman, staff now extended.

He could see more clearly now that the man was out of the way, and by the moons she was pretty. Her ivory skin shown through the night, and her crimson hair was up in a ponytail. She stood just a little bit above Linus, making her of about average height he figured. Linus guessed she couldn’t be any more than just a couple of years older than he was.

“Thank you for distracting him, but I assure you I had matters well in hand,” she began to walk out to the alleyway that separated the tavern and the store. “I suppose it was my fault, however, for letting him corner me like that.”

“Um, you’re welcome, I think,” Linus scratched the back of his head as he followed her out. “Are you a caravan guard, then? My name Linus, by the way. Linus Longstride.”

“No, I am not with the caravans. I am simply a messenger passing through town on my way to Ambermarc City. And you may call me Talon.”

“The capital? You know it’s been under lock down since Nor occupied it, right? No one’s coming in or out these days.”

“I am aware, and I do not fear King Boris’ soldiers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be turning in for the evening. Does this tavern have any rooms available?”

“Yeah, we still do, I think. My father and I run the place. He’s the bald guy behind the counter, let him know someone just tried to rob you and he’ll probably drop the price a bit for you.”

“Very well. Thank you, Linus,” she said as she turned around began to walk towards the front of the tavern.

“Yeah, no problem,” he put the shovel back and once again grabbed the wagon.

Why does the first pretty woman, a woman around my age nonetheless, the first pretty woman to pass through town in ages have to be crazy, he thought with a sigh as he wheeled the wagon around back, to the entrance of the cellar.