Reya eyed the open doorway with all the cheer of a deadman. Pressing her fingers to the small of her back, she could feel the flintlock’s barrel against her skin. The adrenaline that came from a fleeting brush with death ebbing away and leaving her with cold fury. Combing her fingers through Bartolomeo’s mane, she touched her forehead to his muzzle and muttered a few words in her native tongue to soothe him. He jerked his head and brayed, stamping his hooves in the dirt, but eventually, his glossy dark eyes centered on her and they both stood in silence.

“If something comes to pass, you know the way home, yes?”

She held the stallion’s head between her hands as she leaned away, searching his eyes.

“You return home — home, Bartolomeo.”

When he snorted in her face, she shut her eyes and huffed, wiping some of the spit away with the back of her hand.

“You’re a stubborn ass, y’know that?”

He bared his teeth at her and she returned the gesture with a scathing glare. While the growing agitation between them grated at her nerves, Reya leant her forehead against Bartolomeo’s then turned away.

“If I don’t return, you go home, friend.”

She climbed the steps with a lighter step to her gait. The steps creak and almost give beneath her boots, the porch having almost the same effect as she takes care in where she steps in morbid fear of falling through. Several rocking chairs, some with rotted wood and others missing armrests or backs sat beside one another, swaying in the breeze. Their sonorous creaks followed her as she approached the open doorway; bathed in the soft amber light, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at Bartolomeo, allowing a faint smile to grace her lips before her face hardened as she stepped inside.

Several round wooden tables line a narrow walkway toward a long wooden bar lined on either side with a smaller swinging gate. Shelves behind the bar lined with colorful bottles catch her eye, lanterns hanging from the walls refracting light off of them. Reya sniffs the air, her stomach tightening at the smell of spices and meat wafting from a door to the back of the room obscured by a deep red curtain. A few of the tables littered with nicks and dents were worn and stained, chairs flipped on their sides or hanging upside on the tables, mugs left overturn or littered on the ground kicked aside by her boot as she swept through, slamming the heavy door shut behind her.

In the corner, a rosy-red faced man jolted upright and smacked his lips together. His wild dark auburn hair knotted and messy, falling haphazardly in his face. He blinked rapidly and swiveled around in his seat nearly falling off the chair. Reya giving the tables a wide berth as he stumbled to his feet, using the chairs for support. His wrinkled grungy clothes twisted on his body and stained with dirt and grime that traveled from head to toe, caked on dark-brown wrinkled skin. As he approached, she took a half-step backward, reaching for the dagger on her thigh.

His glassy eyes surveyed the room before landing on her as he took another stumbling step forward.

“Hello there!” He grinned, yellowing teeth on full display. “Y’lost, miss? Never seen you ‘round here before.”

Reya hesitantly eased off her dagger’s hilt and folded her arms across her chest.

“It’s a surprise you see anything with those eyes.”

The drunkard laughed, hiccuping in mid-chuckle then breaking into a series of giggles, holding his stomach as he teetered to one side. It wouldn’t surprise her if he fell on his face within another breath but she stepped away to ensure that he wouldn’t fall on her instead. The smell of booze and dirt with the faint hint of citrus permeated from him. Nose twitching, her lips screwed up into a deep frown, she sniffed the air again and hummed.

“Who are y—”

“Hey! What are you doing in here?”

Reya’s attention shifted from the giggling drunk to the back door where the little girl, Helia, slipped through. At the sight of Reya, she scowled and stormed past the swinging gates. Even with the disparity between their sizes, Helia’s glare was nothing short of vicious. She tilted her head back to look at Reya with one of the coldest glares the older woman had ever seen, hands perched on her hips and shoulders squared.

“I don’ know what you did to Geda but no soldiers are allowed in our tavern before the twelfth bell, it was your lot that agreed on that. Says it’s so no one uh.. what was it… interrupts ya or whatever. ”

Glancing around the inn, the other tables were devoid of life and if not for the drunken man whistling a tune, Reya would’ve assumed them to be closed.

“I think you’re mistaken, kid. I—”

Helia snorted and stamped her foot down, narrowly missing the tip of Reya’s boot with her bare feet.

“My name is Helia.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Reya huffed and rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Well, I think you’re mistaken, Helia,” she explained, unfolding her arms. “I’m not with those soldiers.”

Even the thought of it made her skin crawl though she was careful to not let her discomfort show. Keeping a fairly neutral expression as Helia shifted from outright hostility to curiosity, foot tapping and head cocked to the side.

“Oh? Then who are you anyway?”

Pinned by the girl’s scrutinizing gaze, Reya scoffed and looked away, “As far as you need to know, I’m nobody.”

“W-What do you th—” Helia sputtered, hackles raised and hands curled into fists.

“Helia! Cut that out now, she’s a guest.”

Emerging from the back room with Shali perched upon her hip was Geda, her arm wrapped protectively around the little girl’s waist, the other occupied with an armful of Reya’s cloak. Helia whirled around and gaped, looking from Reya to Geda with wide eyes.

“But Geda—!”

“No buts, a—”

A loud crash from behind Reya had her turning sharply on her heel, hand going for her blade only to stop short at the sight of the drunken man laying on his side by an overturned table. She wondered if the blow killed him, keeping herself at a distance A soft humming filled the silence as he rolled his head from side to side, face obscured by his hair.

“Mother be merciful, could you help him up?” Geda asked, sighing and setting Shali down. “Helia, get a bowl for our guest. Shali, you get one for yourself.”

While Shali nodded and glanced towards Reya, Helia stamped her foot with a shrill screech.

“We’re feeding her too?!”

“Helia!”

Reya grimaced, pushing the chair she’d kicked aside and lifting the drunkard over her shoulder. His head lolled against her back, hands hanging freely but she could hear the faint snapping and whistling of a familiar tune. Jostling him a bit to quiet him down, he groaned in pain and went limp as she carted him over to the table he’d sat at, sitting him down with a loud thud. His head lolled back against the wall and for a second she thought he’d fallen asleep until he patted her hand with a soft hum of what she thought was approval.

Drawing her hands away, she straightened up and braved a glance over her shoulder. Shali hiding behind the swinging door looking on as the two sisters were locked in a stalemate. Geda folding Reya’s cloak while Helia tapped her foot, arms crossed and chin held high.

Eventually, Helia huffed and stormed her way to the backroom with a grumbled “fine”, Shali sparing Reya a glance before scurrying after her. Once the curtain fell shut, only the drunkard’s soft humming and the shifting of fabric filled the silence. Reya rolling her shoulder as she walked over, taking up one of the barstools that still had its four legs. Brushing aside a pile of bones and a few stray pieces of paper, yellowed and burnt at the edges, she sat sideways with one eye on Geda and the other on the doorway.

A soft thump pulled her attention to Geda and the cloak folded nicely on the table. Gaze shifting from the garment to Geda, Reya slowly reached out and grabbed it, pulling it back to wrap firmly around her shoulders. Though the mud squelching between the crevices of her armor and in the soles of her boots made her stop mid-motion and grimace.

“Huh… I was starting to think you were on the first road out of here.”

“Don’t read into it, I might still be.”

“Got a washroom in the back,” Geda offered, thumb jerked towards the back door. “You look like a prickleboar skewered you then rolled you in its shite, so...”

“Where I come from, a warrior’s weapon is to be buried with them,” Reya interrupted, ignoring the jibe. “Not left to rust in the rain and sun.”

Geda’s eyes narrowed. All remnants of joking and cheer wiped from her face in favor of a neutral expression, her eyes searching Reya’s before she snorted and rolled her neck, settling on eyeing Reya with an impassive gaze.

“And where is it you come from exactly, stranger?”

“You nearly murdered me,” Reya said as calmly as she could, “Think that grants some kind of intimacy, don’t you?”

“You make it very hard to like you,” Geda glanced toward the back door then leant on the counter, staring Reya down with a scowl.

“I don’t care,” Reya ground out, emphasizing the words grimly.

“And I don’t like you assuming things you have no idea about,” Geda hissed through clenched teeth.

Reya raised one hand and batted it through the air, sending mud splattering across the countertop and keeping Geda’s gaze all the while. “That makes two of us,” she said.

Neither of them spoke. Though it was warm and cozy within the inn, and the drunkard’s humming of a merry tune might be placatingly simple, the tense atmosphere between the two women was stuffy and suffocating. Geda glared down Reya who looked back with shoulders squared and eyebrows furrowed, mud-covered fists clenched on the countertop.

Reya raised one hand and batted it through the air, sending mud splattering across the countertop and keeping Geda’s gaze all the while. “That makes two of us,” she said.

Neither of them spoke. Though it was warm and cozy within the inn, and the drunkard’s humming of a merry tune might be placatingly simple, the tense atmosphere between the two women was stuffy and suffocating. Geda glared down Reya who looked back with shoulders squared and eyebrows furrowed, mud-covered fists clenched on the countertop.

“We didn’ leave those there of our own will,” Geda scowled, speaking lowly. “Those men that call themselves soldiers—”

“What men?”

Geda’s eyes widened and she leant away, a half-smile curling on her lips, hip cocked and arms folded across her chest. “Stick around long enough, and you’ll find out.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” Reya growled, slamming her fist down on the countertop. “Anyone who’d dare to call themselves a soldier and behave this way are nothing more than lowlife scum.”

“Then we can agree on that,” said Geda cheekily.

Before Reya could muster a retort, the curtain shifted and Helia stepped out with Shali in tow. Both girls holding large round bowls filled with a light brown liquid, bits of meat and vegetables floating about, steam wafting through the air as they carried it from behind the bar. The smell of spices hit Reya’s nose and she turned her head to follow them as they went.

“Bout time you finished, did you get lost?” Geda asked, her voice a touch lighter and kinder than it’d been a moment before.

Helia glanced towards her then eyed Reya before turning away with her nose up. “No, and this isn’t for her. It’s for Fernott.”

Disappointment ballooned in Reya’s chest but she tried to keep her expression neutral although her stomach disagreed. Her traitorous stomach threatening to growl until she pressed her fist firmly against it, stifling the noise.

“Helia, we talked about this. Fernott’s got his own coin,” Geda sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and laying one of her hands flat on the countertop.

“Yeah,” Helia huffed, rolling her eyes. “And I bet she does too. Besides, he’s like family.”

Geda hesitated then sighed, groaning as she rubbed her temples. “Go on then.”

Adjusting the bowl in her hands, Helia trotted off with a smug grin to the table where Fernott sat, easing it onto the tabletop and giving his arm a light pat.

Shali shifted from one foot to the other then approached the counter where Reya sat, holding out the bowl with a quick glance over her shoulder. Looking from the bowl’s steaming contents to the drunkard thanking and patting Helia on the head, Reya set the bowl on the countertop and offered her stool to Shali. After a few failed attempts to get herself up, Reya knelt down and motioned for her to sit on her bicep as she lifted her up to the chair.

“You don’t want any?”Shali asked, ladling a portion of the soup and holding it out to Reya.

Waving it off, Reya turned back to Geda and ignored her growling stomach. Refusing to look at Shali until she was almost face-deep in her bowl of soup, Reya sighed and glowered up at Geda.

“Charming kid,” she said, flicking a glob of mud aside.

“Well, she has the right of it,” Geda shrugged, folding her arms. “But we’re not getting anywhere with each other, so I’ll cut you a deal.”

She leaned closer to Reya, careful to give Shali a space and keep her voice low.

“You bring back those remains, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Reya suppressed a shiver. Despite the warmth of her smile and the inn’s coziness, Geda’s words were colder than the pistol that’d been pressed to Reya’s back.

“You’re hiding something.”

“Maybe.”

Geda leaned back and turned away, busying herself with tidying up the countertop and putting away some of the mugs left scattered about.

“We have a cart out back, your horse looks strong enough to pull it but you might want to give him some food before the trip.”

“And how do you know I will go?”

“What other choice do you have?” Geda shrugged.

Letting the words sink in, Reya bit back a curse and grabbed her cloak. A heavy thunk on the table caught her ear and she scowled at the small crate of apples. Geda raising an eyebrow at her and turning away without so much as a goodbye, Reya snatching up the crate and hefting it beneath her arm, trudging towards the door.

“You sure I ain’t seen you around here before, miss?”

Slowing down, she looked over her shoulder at the swaying drunkard who Helia was trying to placate to take another spoonful of soup.

“Fernott! Quit botherin’ her and eat,” Helia insisted, holding up another spoonful to his lips.

The girl gave Reya a scathing glare but the drunkard blinked rapidly a few times with a warm smile, accepting the soup with a hum, a dribble of it running into his beard.

“You’ll wish you hadn’t seen me, old-timer,” Reya grumbled, rolling her eyes and jerking the door open.

“On the contrary uh… miss…” Fernott continued, hiccuping between the short pauses in his words. “I uh… I think you might be the best thing to happen to this place in a long while.”

Reya squinted her eyes and opened her mouth to reply but thought wiser of it, stepping out and leaving the door open behind her.