Leaving the warm, healing steam of the Ashen Baths behind, Leo and his tenants felt reborn. A comfortable, relaxed silence settled between them as they walked back into the main lobby. Lyra's movements had a new fluidity, a grace that was no longer hampered by the phantom pains of her past. Silas seemed to have shed a layer of his perpetual cynicism, his tail swishing with a lazy contentment. For the first time, the looming threat of the Wyvern Hunters felt like a distant problem, a storm on a far horizon.
The hesitant, timid knock at the front door brought them all back to the present.
They exchanged a look. It wasn't the sound of an enemy. It was too soft, too uncertain. Leo, with a newfound sense of duty, strode to the door and commanded it to open.
Standing on the threshold, blinking in the Inn's dim, steady light, were two of the most mismatched individuals Leo could have imagined. One was a dwarf, short, stout, and built like a miniature mountain. His magnificent, braided red beard was streaked with soot and tucked into a heavy leather belt laden with hammers and tongs. He looked grumpy, exhausted, and thoroughly unimpressed by the world in general. The other was a young human woman, thin and wiry, with ink stains on her fingers and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on her nose. She clutched a heavy leather satchel to her chest as if it were a shield, her wide, intelligent eyes darting around, taking in every impossible detail of the lobby.
They were both soaked from the swirling mists and looked utterly lost.
"Uh… hello?" the young woman ventured, her voice barely a whisper. "Is this… is this a real place?"
"That depends on your definition of 'real'," Leo replied with a welcoming smile. "But yes, we're open. Welcome to the Threshold Inn. You look like you've had a rough time of it."
The dwarf grunted, his voice a low rumble like grinding stones. "Rough time? We took a wrong turn at the Whispering Pass and ended up in this gods-forsaken fog three days ago. Been walking in circles ever since. We were about to give up and let the mist take us, then we felt… this." He gestured vaguely towards the Inn. "A warmth. A sense of… solid ground."
"The construction is impossible," he added, his critical gaze scanning the vaulted ceiling. "The joinery on those rafters… no mortal hand could fit them so perfectly. What manner of magic holds this place together?"
Before Leo could answer, the young woman stepped forward, her eyes wide with academic fervor. "And the ambient mana is completely stable! There's no flux, no environmental interference. It's like a perfect laboratory! Is it true what the rumors say? That you can nullify hostile magic?"
Leo's smile widened. So, his new advertising strategy was already working. "The rumors, as usual, only get part of the story right. Why don't you come in and I'll explain the house rules?"
He gave them the full tour, now polished and practiced. He showed them the lobby, the kitchen with its miraculous pantry, and, as his grand finale, the new Ashen Baths. The dwarf, Borin, was left speechless by the Inn's stonework, running a calloused hand over the marble archway with a craftsman's reverence. The alchemist, Anya, nearly fainted with excitement when she felt the potent healing energies in the water, immediately asking for a sample for her research.
By the time they sat down at the main table, both were thoroughly convinced they had stumbled into a legend. Leo explained the terms of tenancy, the magical contracts, and the payment of rent through 'Value.'
"My name is Borin Stonehand," the dwarf declared, slamming a fist on the table. "I am a master blacksmith. My guild tried to steal my designs for self-sharpening alloys, so I left. I have no gold, but my hammer speaks for itself. I will pay my rent in steel. I can mend your knight's armor, forge new tools, and I can tell you right now, the ironwork on your front door hinges is functional, but deeply uninspired. I can fix that."
"And I am Anya," the young woman said, pushing her spectacles up her nose. "I am an alchemist. I was… asked to leave my university for practicing 'unsanctioned transmutation.' I can offer my services. Potions, poultices, analysis of magical materials. A place with such stable mana would be the perfect laboratory."
Leo summoned two new contracts, his movements now smooth and confident. Two new tenants. Two new sources of valuable skills. His investment had paid for itself in less than an hour.
With Borin and Anya's arrival, the Inn truly came to life. The lobby was no longer a quiet refuge, but a bustling common room. The air was filled with the low murmur of conversation: Borin and Lyra engaged in a surprisingly deep discussion about the tensile strength of different metals, while Anya excitedly showed Silas a potion that could make ink temporarily invisible.
Leo leaned against the bar, watching his new community, a feeling of deep, profound satisfaction settling over him. He wasn't just a landlord anymore. He was the master of a haven, a creator of sanctuary. He had taken a dead, empty space and filled it with life, with purpose. He had found his calling.
The peaceful scene was shattered when Silas, who had been laughing at one of Anya's alchemical anecdotes, suddenly went rigid. One of the smooth black stones on his table had begun to pulse with a rapid, frantic red light, a clear signal of utmost urgency.
"What is it?" Leo asked, his good mood instantly vanishing.
Silas's face was grim, all traces of humor gone. He met Leo's eyes, his own emerald gaze dark with foreboding. He didn't need to consult the stone further; the message it carried was clear.
"My apologies for breaking up the housewarming party," he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. "My source on the border just confirmed it."
He looked towards the front doors, as if he could see through them to the threat that was gathering in the mists.
"They're here. The Wyvern Hunters' Guild has made camp. They've established a full perimeter just beyond the fog line." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in.
"The siege has begun."