The common room of the Rusty Lantern Inn had only just begun to settle into the rhythm of morning. A sleepy bard strummed half-hearted chords in the corner while an old miner mumbled to his reflection in the bottom of his mug. Alenia was busy serving food to the tables.
And then the door slammed open with a bang that silenced everything.
A dozen pairs of eyes turned at once.
Boots thudded heavily against the floorboards as four armored guards entered, followed by a tall, broad-shouldered figure dressed in a clean black and crimson tunic. He was a Tigerman — tall even by beastkin standards, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator who didn't need to prove it.
He stopped just inside the threshold, surveying the room with the calm authority of someone used to being obeyed.
"I am Officer Marrek Clawthorne," he said, "of the Ginip Town Hall. Acting under the direct authority of the Mayor's Circle. We are here for a man named Kael Lancaster."
