Before the contagion of bad timing could spread, Gale made a tactical pivot. He let the final chord of the verse ring out and seamlessly transitioned the key, driving his thumb into a heavy, stomping bassline. He abandoned the delicate plucking for a rhythmic, driving strum and launched straight into Roll the Storm Along.

The shift was instantaneous and magnetic. The popular tune was a staple of every tavern from Firthside to the capital, and the room recognized it within three notes. The awkward clapping instantly ceased, replaced by a collective intake of breath as the crowd prepared themselves. By the time Gale hit the first chorus, his voice was entirely drowned out by the collective roar of the room.

“Roll the storm along, my boys, and drink the cellar dry! We’ll face the wind and dare the waves beneath a broken sky!”

Men slammed their tankards together, sloshing ale onto the tables, while others stomped their mud-caked boots in perfect, thunderous unison with the gittern’s driving beat. The women were singing or giggling at the antics of the men and how excited they were at the tavern favorite. Even Tobias was grinning behind the bar, booming out the bass notes of the chorus while wiping down a mug. The sheer volume of the singing vibrated through the floorboards and warmed the room with energy. Gale leaned into the energy, throwing his head back and letting the driving rhythm carry them all.

But just as the song reached its triumphant, roaring peak, the heavy front door banged open and three men stepped into the warmth of the room, bringing the smell of wet leather and river mud. Both music and singing stopped at the sight of them. They wore worn leathers, and their weapons, broad knives and heavy shortswords, were carried openly.

The leader was a broad man with a pale, jagged scar running from his ear to his collarbone. His eyes swept the room with an ugly, assessing gaze before his gaze stopped on Tobias’s daughter as she stepped out of the back room, carrying a basket of clean linens. She froze when she saw the newcomers, her face flushing red under their collective stare.

The scarred man's gaze traveled down her form, lingering with a slow, offensive familiarity.

“Well now,” he drawled, his voice carrying clearly over the silent room. “Didn’t know this place kept such fine goods on hand.”

The word goods struck Gale like a physical blow. Within his chest, a cold anger began to stir. He had heard that word used in the same casual, ledger-like manner during his years serving in the royal military forces, when captured cargo, human or not, was cataloged like common lumber.

Tobias stepped out from behind the counter, his massive frame blocking his daughter from view. “That is quite enough,” the innkeeper said, his voice low and dangerous. “You will speak respectfully in my house. That is my daughter, and I will not have you looking at her.”

Mary, Tobias’s wife, quickly slipped out behind him, wrapping an arm around their daughter’s shoulders and guiding her swiftly back into the rear hallway.

The third thug chuckled, leaning against a timber pillar. “Relax, old man. Just admiring the stock. Surely a proud father understands.”

“You and your friends will leave at once,” Tobias said, his hands curling into heavy fists. “You are not welcome under my roof.”

The leanest of the three, a man with sharp, mocking eyes, tilted his head. “You sure you want to play this game, innkeeper? We have friends in high places. Men who move valuable property. They do not like being turned away.”

Gale’s grip tightened on the neck of his instrument. Property.

“I do not care who you claim to know,” Tobias said, taking a step forward. “You will not direct your disgusting behavior at my daughter or anyone else under my roof. Leave. Now.”

For a tense moment, the scarred leader looked as though he might draw his blade. Then, he scoffed derisively as he reached out, grabbed a clay vase of flowers from a nearby table, and hurled it to the floor. It shattered with a sharp crash and the women nearby screamed in alarm as their male companions rushed forward to stand between them.

“You will regret this,” the scarred man muttered, directing his gaze at the room before lingering on Tobias once more. The three of them backed out into the cold, pulling the heavy door shut with a violent slam.

Much later, when the fire had burned down to red embers, Tobias approached Gale near the hearth. He held a wooden broom, but his hands were trembling slightly against the handle, a mixture of quiet fury and desperate concern.

“I am sorry about that,” Tobias said, his voice hushed so it would not carry to the few remaining patrons. “You came to play for your keep. You should not have had to witness that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Gale said, unslinging his gittern. “But men like that do not simply move on.”

Tobias’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “Those men... the way they spoke of goods and property... If they are what I think, my girl...she’s fourteen.” He swallowed hard, his chest heaving as the implication settled in and he gripped the broom handle tighter, his knuckles turning white. “I should take a club to them. I should find where they are sleeping and—”

“No, Tobias,” Gale interrupted, his voice steady and calm, acting as a quiet anchor. “If you go looking for them, you’ll invite an ongoing fight to your doorstep.”

“Then I’ll go to the guards,” Tobias said, his eyes darting toward the window. “The gate-captain. Surely they can—”

“Not yet,” Gale said. “In my military days, I learned that it is never wise to assume everyone wearing a uniform is a good person. If there is a larger, more organized ring operating near, or worse, in this town, a premature report to a corrupt or careless bailiff will only tip them off. We do not know if these three are just passing through or if there is something far more sinister happening under Dorney’s nose.”

Tobias went pale, his anger momentarily giving way to cold worry. “Then what do we do?”

“Tonight, you bar your doors,” Gale said. “Do not trust a simple brass lock; slide the heavy oak drop-bar into the iron brackets on the inside. Keep the lamps low. If you hear anything unusual, do not open the door.”

“And you?” Tobias asked, studying Gale's calm, soldier-like demeanor.

“I have my own reasons for following them,” Gale said. “I will find out what they are doing here. I am leaving my horse, Echo, my cart, and my gittern here in your care. Keep them secure.”

Tobias opened his mouth to speak, but Gale held up a hand, his gaze turning flat and deadly serious.

“Listen to me carefully, Tobias. If I am not back by tomorrow’s sunset, do not wait, and do not send anyone looking for me. Sell my things. Echo hardy, well-tempered gelding—keep him if you need a working animal, or sell him. His sale alone will fetch enough to more than cover my board and leave a tidy sum for your family. Keep the gittern, or give it to someone who will play it. But if that sun goes down and I haven’t returned, you must accept that I am dead.”

Tobias stared at him, the color draining from his face as the sheer weight of the threat fully settled on his shoulders. This was no longer just a tavern dispute; he was looking at a man preparing for a quiet, lethal war. “Gale...”

“If that happens,” Gale continued, “you pack up Mary and your daughter, and you leave Dorney. If they can kill me, it means they have the run of this town, and it is no longer safe for you and your family. Do you understand?”

Tobias swallowed hard. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, before the big innkeeper slowly, solemnly nodded.

“Good,” Gale said.

He went upstairs to his room. He did not wake the other guests or make a grand show of his departure. In the dim light of his quarters, he slipped into his dark travel cloak, checked the fit of the heavy hunting dagger at his belt, and took his longsword from the wall. He checked the blade in the moonlight, sheathed it with a soft click, and slung the harness over his shoulder.

He did not use the main stairs. Instead, he slipped down the narrow back hallway, easing the side door of the inn open. Gale stepped out into the biting, dark wind, closing the door behind him without making a single sound.

---

Thanks for reading!

xoxo,

tsiagisel