Some time after her sparring session, Everrin arrived at Red's Tavern, where she worked as a maid. The tavern was small but cozy, with warm, worn wood and the faint, comforting smell of ale and stew that seemed baked into the walls. The main hall was the busiest part of the establishment; the first and second floors held small rooms for travelers who couldn't afford the city's grander inns, and the third floor served as a modest brothel.
Everrin entered, taking a moment to adjust her long, slim ponytail before surveying the scene. Her friend Alba, another maid, was already there. Alba noticed Everrin and gave her a welcoming smile.
"You're early today. No training?" Alba said, hopping onto the tavern counter and patting the spot beside her.
Everrin glanced around the hall. Only two customers were present, hunched over a well-worn game board as they played Clash of Kings. "Pom didn't have much time, so we finished early. Where's the Boss Lady?"
Alba tossed her brown hair back with a grin. She was the same age as Everrin—nineteen—and they had been friends since childhood. "She's handling a guest upstairs. Apparently, he's some kind of emissary. No idea where he's from, though."
Everrin raised an eyebrow. "An emissary? What's he doing in a place like this?"
Just as the words left her lips, Everrin felt a chill as a firm hand clamped onto her neck. Fingers tightened around her nape as the unmistakable voice of the Boss Lady, Yui, cut in. "What's that supposed to mean, 'in a place like this'? Are you saying my tavern isn't good enough, hmm?"
Alba burst into laughter as Everrin squirmed. Yui let go and moved behind the counter with a smirk. She was a striking woman in her late thirties, though her sharp eyes and smooth, porcelain skin made her look much younger. Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, and she wore a signature red dress that gave her an aura of fierce confidence.
Everrin rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling nervously. "I just thought emissaries and envoys usually stay in castles. No offense, but would you rather sleep in a cramped tavern room or a grand bedchamber?"
Yui rested her hands on the counter and leaned in with a knowing look. "He mentioned that, actually. Said he didn't want any attention on his journey to the capital. This is as inconspicuous a stop as he could get."
"Hmm…" Alba pondered aloud, tapping her chin. "Must be an important message he's carrying. Did he say where he was from?"
"He didn't," Yui replied, "but his accent gave it away. He's from the Windlands."
Just then, the tavern door creaked open. A familiar, wiry man in ragged clothes stepped in—Alfred, one of their regulars. He greeted Yui with a respectful nod. "Lady Red, good morning."
Yui's stern expression softened as she smiled warmly. "Morning, dear. How's your sister doing?" She rose and walked over to sit at a table with him, the two of them quickly immersed in conversation.
As Yui and Alfred chatted, Everrin and Alba lingered by the counter.
"I talked to Dagon yesterday," Alba said. "He wants you to teach him how to use sirena."
Everrin let out a sigh. "He wants that, does he? Guess I shouldn't have shown him what I could do."
"As a fellow corded, you're the best one to teach him. He's got no one else."
"Ugh… fine." Everrin crossed her arms, leaning against the counter with a reluctant nod. "I'll head to him after my shift."
The men playing Clash of Kings suddenly banged their mugs on the table and shouted, "Girls! More ale!" Alba rolled her eyes, grabbed a pitcher, and went to refill their cups.
Everrin stayed by the counter, listening to the sounds of the hall. The faint hum of conversation, the clink of mugs, and the scrape of wooden chairs against the floor filled the air. Her attention drifted upstairs as the sound of footsteps approached. Descending the stairs was a tall, slender man draped in a dark blue cloak. He had a striking look, with an unusual purple tint around his eyes—a style of makeup that was typical of the Windlands. Without a glance at her, he moved purposefully toward the door, his expression distant and unreadable.
That must be the emissary, Everrin thought, unable to help herself from wondering about the message he carried.
Her curiosity faded as a loud voice drew her attention. Another regular had entered, calling for breakfast. Everrin quickly set to work, gathering ingredients and preparing the meal, her hands moving swiftly as she fell into the rhythm of her routine.