“Who are you?” she cried out, the fear evident even when the general spoke with the kindest tone he owned—one that was still more terrifying than any she had ever heard.
“We are the protectors of the realm. It is we who keep this town away from harm.”
She glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand, then her treacherous gaze landed on the old man standing behind the counter, his hands clenched at his sides. Ranier, a seasoned general, had enough experience in interrogations to identify those withholding information by looking at their faces. Everyone in the tavern wore that expression; they all knew who these women were. What set this particular old man apart from the rest of the people was the painful look in his eyes—one that showed he not only knew these women, but he also cared for them. And that was where the general would focus his efforts.
The man was likely in his sixties, his hazel eyes tired, and his hair had already gone completely white. Despite his age, his skin was almost completely free of wrinkles. The tavern owner’s posture did not waver when the general approached him, whichwas more than one could say about most of the people in Heldraine.
“The tavern is closed now. You should all leave. Tabs are on us this afternoon,” the old man spoke in an attempt to protect his customers from the intruders.
Keilan stood in the shadows of his general when everyone else ran to the exit.
“Are you the owner of this place?” Ranier asked.
“I am.”
“The one and only Dane Weller, I assume.”
Dane nodded. “Where’s General Johnson?”
“He died thirteen years ago. I’m his successor, Ranier Uldor,” the general said, assessing Dane. “You know, you are a legend among my men.”
Dane pursed his lips. He didn’t need the reminder; he remembered it as if it were yesterday. Nearly twenty years ago, during the construction of his tavern, he’d begun excavating the ground, intending to create an underground storage cellar. He had never thought he would uncover a tunnel that day.
Driven by curiosity, Dane had followed the tunnel’s length. It was so dark, he’d assumed it would lead to a dead end—the remnants of some abandoned project from long ago. However, to his surprise, after some time walking, he saw light ahead. And so, he kept walking, drawn toward it, following the light of day that breached through the tunnels.
He’d emerged from underground, welcoming the sunlight warming his skin. But Dane had little time to take in his surroundings. A sudden, brutal kick struck the back of his knees, sending him crashing to the ground. He grunted in pain when his knees slammed hard against the earth. As his vision adjusted to the daylight, he found himself encircled by armored men, their swords drawn and pointed directly at his neck. Beyondthem, he caught a glimpse of the walls of Bryniard from an angle he had never seen before.
How did I cross the walls?he’d asked himself.
So many questions invaded his thoughts at once. One of the soldiers pressed his sword, drawing a drop of blood from his neck, and at that moment, all questions were silenced. All Dane could think about was his little girl, Freyah. He thought about his wife and how she would have to raise their daughter alone. He thought of his tavern, a dream he had come so close to realizing that now seemed impossible to see through.
“A tavern?” a man had asked just when another one was about to slit Dane’s throat open.
That was when Dane realized he had been speaking his fears aloud. He swallowed and gave a small nod as the soldiers stepped back, parting to allow a figure to approach the center. A commander, Dane noted.
“Tell me about it,” the man had demanded.
And so Dane did. He told him about his business and the tavern he’d dreamed of his entire life. He spoke with the passion of a man who had poured every ounce of himself into that dream, even as swords remained drawn around him. The man whom he would come to know as General Johnson was undeniably a threat, yet his politeness and imposing presence confounded Dane into a lifetime deal with the Iron Claws.
In exchange for his life and protection from the threat of the monsters Dane feared could invade Bryniard through the tunnels, he had agreed to provide a monthly export of ale to the Iron Claws for the rest of his life. Dane had vowed to keep the tunnel a secret and to let no one cross to the other side. When his daughter told him she needed to leave Bryniard, Dane had begged her to stay. Not because he knew the Iron Claws would come for his life but because he knew the kind of man that stood on the path his daughter would cross. He couldn’t convince her,of course, and now a general that seemed even more ruthless than the previous one stood in his tavern.
A swift motion from the general broke Dane from his stupor. Ranier slapped the sheet of paper with the faces of his fugitives down on the wooden surface of the counter. He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on the person across from him, waiting for his reaction.
“I have the feeling you might know who these women are.”
Ranier had been aware of the secret deal his predecessor had made with the tavern owner. His squad had benefited from the deal greatly; without General Johnson’s arrangement, the Iron Claws would never have been allowed to drink ale. The Crown explicitly forbade the soldiers of this battalion from consuming alcohol because it could slow their reflexes. Since then, the shipment had been transported to an isolated base outside Golheim and away from royal eyes. Ranier didn’t like keeping secrets from the king and queen, but he couldn’t bring himself to make his first act as general a ban on the very thing that kept his squad’s morale high. So, he went along with it.
He stared at Dane, waiting for his response.
“At this age, one can hardly remember all the faces that cross their paths. I’m sure you can understand that,General,” Dane said the last word in a way that could have been read as mockery.
“I did not think two beautiful women such as these would have been so easily forgotten. Especially in a place asreservedas Bryniard.”
“What can I say? I only have eyes for mine,” Dane answered, his hands now gripping the paper with his daughter’s face on it with such uncontrollable rage that it did him no favor hiding the truth from Ranier.
“There’s no reason for our interaction here to be anything but amicable, Dane, considering your long contribution to my squad. That is… if you cooperate.”
“I’ve never seen these women before.”