After settling in, Towan and Elliot collapsed onto their beds. The mattress was thin, the blanket scratchy, and the pillow lumpy—but after everything they’d been through, it might as well have been a royal suite. The scent of fresh straw and old wood filled the room, and for the first time in days, there were no explosions, no screams, no smoke.
Just warmth.
Sleep took them almost instantly.
Downstairs, the tavern was quiet. A soft hum of afternoon wind crept through the cracked windows, stirring the scent of aged ale and roasted meat.
Leon and Herb sat at the far end of the bar, away from the few lingering patrons. The stool creaked under Leon’s weight as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the worn wood.
“So…” Herb began, slowly wiping down a cloudy glass with practiced rhythm. “What do you plan to do with them?”
Leon exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They’re barely teenagers. If left alone, they won’t last long out there.”
Herb leaned in, his voice low and even. “Could put them to work here, if you want. Keep them busy. Give ’em a place to stay.”
Leon shook his head. “They asked me to train them.”
Herb paused mid-polish. “Wait… they know you can fight? I thought you were keeping that under wraps.”
“It was that or let them die,” Leon admitted. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”
Herb set the glass down and gave a slow nod. “So what now? You really gonna train them?”
Leon hesitated. The silence lingered for a beat too long.
Then he nodded.
“Yeah. But it’s not going to be easy. It’ll take time… and I’m not sure I’m at my best anymore.”
Herb smirked and waved a dismissive hand. “Eh, don’t worry about that. I’ve seen what you can do. Whatever shape you’re in, I’d still bet on you over most fighters.”
Leon chuckled, a low sound buried in his throat. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Herb gave him a grin. “Just don’t break ’em, alright?”
“No promises.”
Their conversation drifted to lighter topics after that—mercenary gossip, drink shipments, and which noble had embarrassed themselves most recently—but Leon’s eyes kept flicking to the stairs.
Upstairs, two kids were sleeping like the world hadn’t just burned around them.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The sun was already crawling toward the horizon when Towan stirred. Golden light spilled through the curtains in soft shafts, warming the wooden floor. He groaned, stretching, the fabric of the blanket falling away as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
The other bed was empty.
“Huh?” he muttered groggily, running a hand through his messy hair. His fingers snagged on a knot, and he winced. “Where did Elliot go?”
Still half-asleep, Towan quickly straightened his clothes—not that they were ever really straight—and padded down the creaky stairs.
“There you are!” he called out, spotting Elliot seated beside Leon at a small table near the back. Sunlight angled in through the tavern windows, lighting up the papers in Elliot’s hand. The boy’s brows were furrowed in concentration, his tongue slightly poking out as he scribbled something carefully.
“What are you doing?” Towan asked, walking over, still rubbing the sleep from one eye.
“Signing documents,” Elliot said casually, not looking up. “Leon is officially becoming our legal guardian.”
“Oh, nice—wait, what?”
Towan froze mid-step, nearly stumbling.
“Yeah,” Elliot continued, flipping a page and signing it with exaggerated flourish. “Since we’re legally orphans now, I didn’t want us to end up in an orphanage.”
Towan blinked, still trying to catch up. “Why would we? We were fine before!”
“Lady Mar was our legal caretaker,” Elliot said, now rummaging through a stack of forms. “Didn’t you know? Our house originally belonged to her.”
Towan’s face dropped. “Oh…” His voice went quiet. He hadn’t realized just how much of their lives had rested on that old woman’s quiet kindness.
“Now that Leon is officially responsible for us, we can do whatever we want as long as we’re with him,” Elliot added, handing a page over to Leon.
Towan frowned. “Wait, wait… But who even knows we’re orphans?”
Leon, who had been silent so far, leaned back in his chair. “Some Kingdom Knights came by earlier,” he said. “They were looking for you two. Gathering info about the Heartwood incident. I told them that since you’re minors and I’m your guardian, I could answer on your behalf.”
Towan narrowed his eyes. “So you lied.”
“Don’t put it like that,” Leon waved a hand dismissively. “It’s official now. They didn’t ask for paperwork, but they might in the future.”
Towan squinted. “That’s literally a crime.”
Leon cleared his throat and looked away. “Details.”
The following days settled into a new rhythm.
Towan and Elliot helped around the tavern—wiping tables, delivering food, hauling crates, and dodging Herb’s sarcastic jabs. The bar always smelled like stew and smoke, and the floors were sticky more often than not, but the work was grounding. Familiar, even.
It wasn’t the training they’d asked for, but it kept their hands busy and minds quieter.
Leon stopped by daily, though never stayed long. Sometimes for a meal, sometimes to drop off crates marked with strange symbols. Most of the time, he vanished before Towan could even ask him about training.
To everyone else, he was just another merchant.
But the boys were beginning to notice the small things—how he always scanned the room first, how his posture subtly shifted near strangers, how he never sat with his back to the door.
Then one morning, just as the tavern opened, Towan strolled up to the bar.
“So, what’s on the list today, Herb?” he asked, already bracing himself to carry something heavy.
“Nothing, kid. You’re off today—both of you,” Herb said, wiping a cup with his ever-present rag.
Towan blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yep,” Herb said, smirking as he stacked the cup. “Leon said you’ll be accompanying him today.”
Elliot, passing by with a tray of clean plates, stopped in his tracks. “We are?”
Herb leaned on the counter, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “That’s what he said.”
The two boys exchanged a glance—Towan’s eyebrows raised, Elliot’s lips curling into a subtle grin.
“Well,” Towan muttered, a small thrill of anticipation bubbling in his chest. “It’s about time.”