Near the door, his seat nearly pressed up against the veneer that kept getting pounded by the swinging inn door, one man sat alone with a drink in his hand. He had a hood partially up, covering only the back of his head, which was balding at what seemed an unusually early age. The hood came from a long, black trenchcoat, little-travelled and muddy. It was propped up between his arm and the table at a strange angle that may have been hiding a short weapon of some kind, but his eyes were hazy. He was drunk, probably barely holding himself up in a torpor. It wasn't the alcohol that did it though. His eyes lacked a soul, a spirit for life, as though his entire life had just come crashing down around him. Someone in his boots may have been a threat, but not a threat with purpose. To me, that was the same as no threat at all. He wasn't even Kindred.

The two Kindred that had come in before had sat down and were chatting at their table about... something. I couldn't focus my senses at all in this mess of a restaurant, I would have been overwhelmed. But they were energetic and happy, and had ordered drinks and food. Probably not a threat.

There were five servers at the inn. The bean waiter, the one who had given us our drinks, and three others that wandered the place. In the kitchen were four cooks. No, three cooks. The fourth one was just running around trying to look busy. Was he the manager? None of them were a threat.

A young woman had approached the counter to the inn. She'd just come in from outside, already drenched from a rain that hadn't been there a few moments ago. A violent melange of wind struck the side of the inn, rattling the windows.

"Please," she pleaded, "I just want to stay for a night."

"No," said the innkeep, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. "Not for you. Not for any of you."

Nothing about the woman stood out as particularly notable. She was normal-looking, albeit attractive, with hair the colour of honey and skin of a deep, rich cream made from something other than dairy. Probably from a northern country. Her accent was distinct yet subtle, something along the lines of Hearth Senvian or Kvassian.

The bean server had treated Eskir poorly, and I thought it funny due to the circumstances. But now this, turning away a woman for no reason at all. I had never heard anything about the people at this inn being particularly rude, so why?

"Please," she insisted. "Look outside. I can't go back out there."

"Then you should have stayed in Penwurst," he said. It was a small settlement between the nameless inn at the crossroads and Lakeside, and just like the two inns, was in the province of Lower Eckshire. We had kept to the main road in our rush, as Penwurst was a needless detour.

Inns didn't dot the main road as often as they once had, centuries ago. Senvia had a warring nature, and it discouraged isolated establishments.

"I can pay," the woman said. "Please, you don't even have to feed me, all I need is a room. I can't sleep outside in this."

"Get out," the server said with a warning tone. "And don't you dare sleep anywhere near the inn. We don't want your people around here. Keep walking."

I felt an uncomfortable lurch in my gut. She was just a traveller who needed a room. I couldn't even imagine why he didn't want her around. She looked the same as him, and her tongue was fluent in the common language. It was nonsensical to turn her away. I opened my mouth to speak, but two men who had been standing nearby beat me to it.

"You can sta— y-you can stay with us!"

 The first one was tall and fat, with a beard dropping down to his chest and a powerful set of muscles in his legs. He placed a gross hand on the woman's waist, and she shirked away in response.

"Yeah!" shouted the second dumbly. "Um. Yeah!" This one was skinnier, but still fat, and substantially more built. They were only human, but so was she.

"I'm good, thanks," she sneered, eyeing his lingering hand.

The innkeep laughed. "Seems you don't need a room that badly, then."

I wanted to punch him for that snide. The implication in his words was revolting. I took a step forward, ready to snap the man's hand at her waist like a twig.

"Come on. What. What? Never been with a lad?"

"I have a sword of my own, thanks." she retorted. "Wanna see it?" With a shlick of steel, she popped a small short sword from its chape, its clean steel glimmering in the light of the arcane bulbs.

"Woah, she's spicy too!" shouted the second quite loudly before looking around, hoping for an audience of cheers and laughter. He was greeted with nothing. The only support for his comment came from his friend, who managed a fumbling "Yeah, spicy," in response.

Both of them were inebriated, and the quiet fact that they were making a scene set into their minds. The surrounding atmosphere of the inn's entrance and restaurant wouldn't likely offer assistance to the woman's plight, but nearly the entire room had turned to look at him with his shout. Dozens of sets of eyes locked on the man with a subtle air of disgust in their gaze.

The second one, who had shouted, backed off, fumbling some sort of excuse about her being too ugly to share his bed with anyway. The first one still had his hand on her waist.

"I will cut that off," she warned.

"Nah," he laughed, then paused for a moment, as if he'd forgotten what he was laughing about. A blank look settled on his face, followed by an uncontrollable giggle. "Come to my room," he said again.

I took another half-step forward, but felt a handful of eyes in the crowd spot the motion. Now wasn't the time to start drawing attention to myself. I had only just given Eskir a lecture about it.

"Get off me," she snarled, and somehow, that was the trigger that pulled his hand away.

"Woah lady," he said, his voice touching on anger, "I'm only trying to help. Thought I'd show you a fun time. Fine, be that — be that way. Nobody's going to help you." He kept backing up until his back slapped the wall next to the door. "Hey," he complained, "get out of the way!" He turned around, fist raised for a fight, his face close enough to kiss the wall. "Oh, you're a. You're not. You're not a person. Wall."

"What," asked the woman, turning back to the innkeep and pointing to her short sword, still showing a bit of bare steel poking out of the sheath, "this you're okay with?"

"Not my business," he said.

"You're out of your mind."

The innkeep shrugged. "Get with the times."

The bustling noise of the crowd returned. I hadn't even noticed when it faded. I stepped up to the innkeep's podium and handed him two small, triangular coins with four hollow points at the triangle peaks and heart. Two lettercoins.

"Here," I said. "This should cover her."

"Not a chance," he refused. "She doesn't get a room, no matter how much you dish out."

"Then she can stay with me," I said. He paused, eyeing me and debating if this was the hill he wanted to die on. I'd already conceded to the woman not getting her own room.

"Fine," he snapped. "But you're responsible for her. No funny business, you hear me? Nothing at all! If one sheet is out of place, it's on your head."

I nodded, then turned to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Who says I want to room with you?"

"You don't need to," I said. "But I don't see what options you have. You'll be safe."

"So you say. You stood there for quite awhile before bothering to help. You could be Kindred, for all I know."

"I am Kindred."

She blinked three times, then inhaled and uttered a quiet "Oh."

I gave an awkward smile.

She adjusted her soaked jacket, then regained her posture. "I'm not going to sleep in the same room as a Kindred." She turned back to the innkeep, paused, and faced me again. "Are you with anyone?" she asked reluctantly.

I nodded, and pointed at Eskir. "That idiot over there, sipping from the wood mazer."

"Is he Kindred?"

"Human. And he would probably lose a fight to a toddler, if given the chance."

"How do I know that's the truth?"

I smiled, then popped my knife from my belt and handed it to her. "You could stab me in my sleep as easily as I could kill you awake. I'll trust you, you trust me."

Of course, I was never unarmed. Stoneguard remained on my finger. Even if by some chance, it failed to emerge again, it was still capable of sending out pulses that would at least stagger any human attacker. I wouldn't tell her that, of course. But I didn't mind giving up my knife if it made her feel more comfortable.

And I couldn't imagine a random, lone traveller still drenched from the rain and pleading for a room to be any measurable threat.

She pointed to her sword sword. "I already have a blade."

"And now you have two! Come on, I'll introduce you," I said, and led her over to Eskir.

"Picking up strays?" he asked, his face buried in the drink.

"She needs a place to sleep," I said.

"Oh, and I suppose I'll be sleeping on the floor?" he complained.

"I thought you didn't feel comfortable in soft beds?"

"I don't! But I still want the choice of whether to sleep in a bed or on the floor."

I shrugged. "Okay. Take my bed."

"No, I want the floor."

The woman gave a half-hearted grin. "Well," she said, "you were right about him being an idiot."

He glared at her, then drank from his mazer. "Shut it, stray. Hey, can I get another of this stuff? It's really good."

I turned to the woman, offering her my arm to lay her drenched coat on. "I'm Xera. He's Eskir."

"Jenny."