As he silently wiped the metal mugs and cleaned the old oak counter, the bartender thoughtfully listened to the loud chatter of his inn.
The sun was setting, birds were flocking towards the safety of the rooftops for the night, and the evening sky slowly darkened around the fire lit horizon, the fading light entering through the glass-paned windows of the noisy building.
The suffocating afternoon air, slowly replaced by a cool wisp of air, shimmered around the inn's lanterns, and a few fireflies lazily hovered in mid air. Drops of rain fell on the hard earth, leaving dark specks on the dusty ground.
As the bartender served an old man, a few words suddenly caught his attention. He leaned on his creaking counter, listening more carefully to the gruff voices ahead, his gaze landing on the two broad men sitting at a raised table in the corner of the room. They were frowning at their pint of beer, in the middle of an important-sounding conversation.
"Have you heard?" muttered the first man, "The High Divine called for a Council yesterday. It was all over the papers this morning."
The bartender froze. Something very important must have happened over the last few days that must have urged the High Divine to call a Council... The second man leaned in in interest, his caterpillar eyebrows wriggling on his eyes as he answered.
"Yes, I have." He nodded and then asked, "Do you think he's had a vision of some sort ?"
The broad man grunted in approval as he stated : "Must be that"
They sat in silence for a while. The first man thoughtfully poked at his food before stating :
"I've heard that the Council will talk about the Moon Seeker they've sacked three weeks ago. Everyone's talking about it.
- Do you think so ?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Whatever it is, Moon Magic is classified. Let those clowns figure it out by themselves."
The words closed the discussion and the men changed the subject to the upcoming Order Races that were taking place in the neighbouring city of Oriblane.
The bartender thoughtfully left the counter and wiped a few empty tables clean, nodding happily as a group of young buzzing students came in, laughing. He took their order as they sat down, busy talking about their plans for the upcoming event.
As the busiest hour of the day approached, more and more people entered the establishment, fewer and fewer rooms were available as travellers stopped by for the night, on their way to the Capitol or crossing the region back to their homeland.
The air was heavy with the smell of ale and whiskey, smoke and the excitement of the evening. The bartender's wife and one of his waiters were busy in the kitchens, cooking meals and preparing the evening soup. Waiters waltzed around the room, taking orders, serving food, bringing drinks to drunk men's tables as the bartender filled cup after cup of beer, foam wobbling over the rim. The sound of silver coins and dimes rolling on tables, hearty laughter during a game of cards, hands clapping and knuckles pounding on the wooden tables...
All of a sudden, the big oak door brutally slid open, cold wind gushing in the room. A group of five men walked in the inn as the bartender looked up. They were tall and broad, their menacing stature filling the room as the freezing weight of their stare bore through every person, one by one, carefully searching each face. The noise died down, and after a moment of chilling silence, the tallest of the five slowly shook off the drops of rain that made his furry black coat glisten in the warm light.
The four others stood slightly behind him, their posture suggesting that he was their commander. The captain was young, the bartender stated, surprised. He must have been no older than twenty-three, but a deep sense of leadership and dangerous confidence emanated from his person. An uncomfortable feeling crept into the barman's head, unconsciously instilling a deep sense of fear as her watched him walk menacingly towards the counter, followed by his soldiers.
