The back door of Cranewold Bar opened with a soft, strained creak. A gust of cold wind blew into the hallway connecting to the kitchen, momentarily chasing away the musty smell of old wood and faint liquor.
Varena, who was counting empty glass bottles in a corner of the nearby storeroom, froze instantly. Her deep, violet-gray eyes narrowed slightly as she caught a foreign scent mixed with the cold air…
The scent of blood.
She stood still as a statue, letting the shadows of the shelves cover her, before two battered figures stumbled through the doorway into the dim light, supporting each other.
James was leading. His body trembled with exhaustion, his cloak stained with blood and melting snow, yet his arms still held a firm, supportive grip on a strange girl who looked even weaker.
At that moment, the scent of James's blood hit Varena's senses more clearly. She frowned slightly, her nose wrinkling faintly.
It was the scent of human blood… but there was something different about it. Something pure and unique that surprised her.
As James was about to help Liana lean against a wall, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He flinched and turned instinctively, his gaze meeting Varena's, who stood in the shadows. Her eyes were placid but sharp, as if seeing right through to his veins and bones.
James felt as if he were being silently scrutinized and appraised.
After staring for a moment that made James feel uncomfortable, Varena offered a faint smile at the corner of her lips—an unreadable expression that conveyed no emotion. She then turned and disappeared into the main bar, leaving behind only silence and the questions forming in James's mind.
Almost as soon as Varena's shadow vanished, Elen happened to walk out from the kitchen. She froze when she saw the state of James and the strange girl.
"James!" Her voice came out in shock but still managed to hold its firmness. Her sharp eyes widened slightly, her gaze sweeping from the bloodstains on James's cloak to the pale face of the nearly unconscious Liana.
"Don't say anything right now. Get inside first," Elen said, her voice sharp but laced with concern. She quickly stepped forward to help support Liana from the other side, hoping to ease the burden from James's shoulders.
A wave of relief washed over James like a breaking dam. The moment he felt Elen's steady support, the tension he had accumulated throughout the journey seemed to melt away. His legs grew so weak he almost collapsed.
"I… we…" James tried to explain, but his throat was so dry he couldn't speak.
Elen shook her head gently. "Rest first," she said curtly, before helping the two of them to a long bench against the wall in the warmest corner of the kitchen.
Elen gently helped Liana sit down before turning to examine the wound on James's hand, where blood had started to seep through the makeshift bandage again.
"Sit still right here," she ordered as she quickly grabbed a small wooden box containing first-aid supplies. "Frey! Get me some warm water and a clean cloth!"
As soon as she gave the order, a series of coughs came from another corner of the kitchen, where Frey peeked out from behind a shelf of dry goods. His face was still pale with sweat on his temples, but in his hands, he held a small wooden basin with warm water and a clean cloth as requested.
Frey's eyes widened when he saw the condition of James and the strange girl, before a playful smile appeared on his pale face. "You're really something else, disappearing all day and coming back with a pretty young lady."
Frey's teasing remark did a surprising job of breaking the heavy tension. Elen shook her head lightly but didn't say anything. She took the basin and began to clean the wound on James's hand with a gentle touch.
James took the cup of warm water from Elen and took a large gulp. The warmth spreading down his dry throat made him feel slightly better. He let out a dry laugh. "Glad to see you still have the energy to tease me, Frey."
"Cough, cough… I'm glad to see you're not dead, either," Frey replied, glancing towards Liana, who was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed in exhaustion. "So, what's the story here?"
Before James could answer, the door connecting to the bar was pushed open again, but this time it wasn't a quiet movement like before.
Brack's towering figure strode in. His sharp eyes quickly scanned the scene—the injured James, the strange girl, Elen dressing the wound, and Frey looking pale as a sheet—before they came to rest on James.
"What happened."
His voice was gruff and powerful. The lightheartedness Frey had just created vanished instantly. The atmosphere grew heavy again under the pressure of the bar's owner.
James swallowed hard, feeling all eyes on him, especially Brack's, which were filled with questions and pressure.
"Let the children catch their breath first," Elen was the one to break the silence. She didn't take her hands off James's wound, but her voice was firm enough to make Brack pause slightly.
James took a deep breath, trying to collect himself and organize the story. He reached into his shirt, pulled out the small, damp wooden plaque, and handed it to Brack. "I delivered the letter to the lumberjack village… This is the reply token from Timber."
He started by reporting on the mission he had been assigned, to show his responsibility.
Brack glanced at the wooden plaque but didn't take it yet. His eyes remained fixed on James. "And your current state? Is this related to the mission?"
"No, sir," James replied evenly. "On the way back… I ran into a situation." He paused briefly, his eyes shifting to Liana, who was still trembling. "I saw her… this young lady… being dragged into the forest by two men. So I…"
"So you got involved," Brack interrupted, his voice curt. His expression grew noticeably sterner. "What kind of trouble have you dragged back to my bar, James?"
"He did what he should have, Brack," Elen countered instantly. It wasn't often she called her brother by his first name, which usually only happened when she was being serious.
"Would we let a young girl be harmed right in front of us without doing anything? That's not the Cranewold way."
Brack looked at his sister's face, his expression softening slightly at the mention of their family name, but worry was still evident. He turned back to James. "And those men? Where are they now?"
James was silent for a moment. The image of spraying blood and a lifeless body flashed in his mind. He swallowed again before answering in a softer voice, "…They're… dead."
Silence immediately fell over the kitchen. Only the sound of firewood crackling in the stove could be heard. Frey's eyes widened in shock, while Elen's hands paused for a second as she was bandaging James.
Brack stared at James, the gaze of a seasoned former hunter scrutinizing the young man before him. He wasn't shocked by the word "dead," but he was analyzing the consequences that would follow.
"Do you understand what you've done?" Brack asked, his voice flat but heavy. "This girl is no ordinary commoner, and the people who sent men to kidnap her are certainly not ordinary either. Killing their men… means that you and my bar have now become enemies with people we don't even know."
James clenched his fists. He accepted the truth in Brack's words without argument. He knew full well that his actions were taken without considering the consequences.
"I… understand, sir," James replied, his voice soft but firm. "But I couldn't just let her be taken."
"No… it has nothing to do with him," a small, trembling voice spoke up. Liana tried to sit up straight, though her body was still weak.
She looked at Brack, her eyes a mixture of fear and resolve. "It's my fault for bringing trouble to you. I'll leave right now."
"And where would you go in this condition, out in the snow?" Elen said, gently taking Liana's arm. She turned to meet her brother's eyes, her own gaze serious and determined.
"I know what you're worried about, Brack," she said. "But look at these two children. They've been through a life-and-death situation, and they chose not to abandon each other. This is what you used to teach me, isn't it? That we never leave our people behind."
Brack stared at his sister's face for a long time before letting out a huge sigh, his broad, wall-like shoulders heaving. He rubbed his short beard thoughtfully before swearing softly.
"Hmph! Trouble, that's what this is!"
He slammed his hand on the table! Then he turned and yelled at Frey, who was shrinking in a corner. "Frey! Go prepare the guest room upstairs! The one at the end of the hall!"
Frey flinched slightly before quickly acknowledging the order. "Yes! Sir Brack!" and hurried off immediately.
Elen gave a small, relieved smile before she quietly returned to tending to James's wound.
Brack turned back to look at James one last time. His gaze was still fierce, but there was a certain complexity in it now. "As for you… tomorrow morning, we have things to discuss."
He said nothing more, turning and walking back into the main bar, leaving the atmosphere in the kitchen to slowly de-escalate, leaving only silence, exhaustion, and a feeling of gratitude that was hard to put into words for the two young survivors.