The Wolves of Wullferg Keep

Chapter I - The Rival

The city of Halogaist swarmed with color; piercing reds, bright yellows, sea-deep blues, and bold blacks of swirling skirts and cloaks and trailing scarves and billowing sleeves. Sound swelled into the autumn sky, laughter and bickering and haggling and the cries of hundreds of animals. Down past the watch towers, through the cobblestone streets and the whitewashed houses with their ornate doors, through the bustling marketplace with people crowded shoulder to shoulder and children under foot, onto streets of worn down stone, rutted, muddy, broken, into the crooked houses and alleys, past hunched over figures and starving dogs, deep into the very darkest parts of Halogaist; a new light shone forth.

An old house, once forlorn and dilapidated, had been given new life. Its roof had been thatched, new whitewash coated its sides, and green paint the color of spring covered the door. Here was the busiest place in all of Lower Halogaist, outshining even the brothels and taverns and black markets. Here was an inn--The Rival.

"MALU!" Emily hollered at the top of her lungs. She was way back in the kitchen, ladling stew into bowls and placing bowls on trays and putting trays on counters.

"She's getting another keg of ale, what do you need?" Deena swept into the kitchen, brushing her glorious chestnut hair away from her face but keeping her frown in place.

"Bread. And more hands. And maybe a drink."

Deena started slicing a loaf of bread. "You said no drinking while we work."

"I make the rules, so I can break them." Emily let the ladle drop into the mostly empty pot and picked up a tray. "Hurry up with the bread."

"I am hurrying!"

Emily ignored her savage tone as she made her way towards the main room. The distant rumble of voices turned into a roar as she pushed through the kitchen doors. The main room was filled to the brim with people. All the tables were full and many were standing against the wall. Terrible and wonderful at the same time. It'd be even more terrible if Malu let any cups go dry.

Emily began placing bowls on tables with a glib smile and sweet words and the occasional bit of banter with some of the men. A little empty flirting never hurt if it made you money. She just had to keep an eye out for wandering hands--but it certainly wouldn't be her fault if some poor fellow was bashed over the head with a bottle.

The rumble of talk turned into a roar as the door swung open and let in a flood of people. Leading the pack was Burgen; a tall man with silver hair and dark eyes, dressed in an exuberant fashion that offended every proper housewife and city official. He was a merchant and a scoundrel and one of Emily's favorite people in the world.

"Emily!" The man bellowed over the crowd, his thick accent making her name sound like Imaly. "How is my lovely god-daughter?" He patted her on the head, knowing full well it annoyed her and reinforced how very short she was.

"A bit busy--move." She dodged past him so she could distribute more stew.

"Sorry." He stepped aside. "I see you're as beautiful as ever as well," he added, following after her and helping her gather a dozen mugs of ale.

"You can pay regular price like everyone else."

Burgen gasped. "Did ye hear that?" he called to the group he'd entered with, most of his caravan. "Regular price! After all I've done for her!"

His crew rolled their eyes as they found places to stand at the bar. He did this every time they came--which was every night they were in town.

"What if we made a bargain? I give you something to cover part of the cost?"