Hanon pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the main hall of the building. The room was wide and warmly lit by hanging lanterns that cast golden pools across long tables and polished floors. Conversation hummed steadily—merchants haggling in low voices, mercenaries laughing over dice, servants weaving between chairs with trays of food and drink.
As soon as Hanon entered, heads turned. When Aeloria followed a step behind, the attention sharpened and lingered. Eyes tracked them across the room, some curious, many openly appraising.
At a table near the far wall, a group of rough-looking men—armed with short swords and scarred knuckles—leaned together. One of them, a burly fellow with a braided beard, snorted loudly enough for his words to carry.
"Look at the fool," he muttered, jabbing a thumb toward Hanon. "Letting a beauty like her carry the heavy pack while he takes the light one. If he were my younger brother, I'd reshape that rotten brain with my knuckles."
Another man at the table with a flushed face from ale, grinned wide. "Aye. If she traveled with me, the only weight she'd ever bear is my heart in her hands."
Low chuckles spread among them. A few others nearby smirked or nodded agreement.
Early in their journey, Hanon had tried shouldering the larger pack himself. After only a short distance he had slowed to a stagger, breathing hard, his face pale with strain as though the weight threatened to drag him to the ground. Aeloria had wordlessly taken it from him then and carried it ever since.
She kept her expression calm and cool, ignoring the comments as Hanon led her toward the long counter at the side of the hall. The overseer stood there—a tall, sharp-eyed woman in a crisp apron, ledger open before her and a quill tucked behind one ear.
"Good day to you," Hanon said with polite calm. "I'm here to meet someone by the name of Krazel. Could you tell me if he has arrived?"
The woman offered a professional smile. "Of course. One moment, please." She flipped back a few pages in her ledger, scanning the entries with practiced speed. "Yes… you would be Hanon?"
"That is correct."
"Very good. Master Krazel has been waiting upstairs for some time. Follow me, if you please." She gestured toward a corner alcove piled neatly with travelers' belongings and guarded by a silent, broad-shouldered man in leather armor. "You may leave your packs there. They'll be safe."
Hanon and Aeloria set down their loads—the guard giving them only a brief nod of acknowledgment—then followed the overseer across the hall and up a wide staircase of dark wood. The steps creaked softly underfoot, and the noise of the ground floor faded behind them.
The upper level opened into a much grander space. Thick woven carpets in deep reds and golds covered the floor, muffling every footfall. Lanterns of colored glass hung from chains, casting warm, jeweled light over tables spaced generously apart. The guests here were of obvious wealth: men and women in embroidered silks and velvet, rings flashing on their fingers, heavy gold chains at their throats. Servants in neat livery moved silently between them, pouring rich wines and serving platters of delicate meats, fruits, and pastries. The air smelled of expensive spices, beeswax candles, and subtle perfumes.
The overseer led them toward a central table where a single man sat. He was in his middle years, broad through the chest and shoulders, with iron-gray streaking his neatly tied-back hair and trimmed beard. His clothing was fine but practical—dark wool and leather, a silver pin at his collar the only obvious sign of wealth. Two crystal wine cups stood before him: one half empty, the other untouched.
"Sir Krazel," the overseer announced with a slight bow. "Your guests have arrived."
She stepped aside, leaving Hanon to approach.
"It is an honor to meet you, Sir Krazel," Hanon said, inclining his head respectfully. "I am Hanon. This is Irene, my traveling companion."
'Irene?' Aeloria kept her face smooth, though surprise flickered inside her. 'I see, he's shielding my real name from anyone who might recognize "the cannibal."'
She dipped her head with graceful poise. "A pleasure to meet you, good sir."
Krazel studied them both for a long moment, shrewd eyes taking their measure. Then he gestured to the overseer. "Please bring another cup. I was not expecting such a charming maiden to grace our table this evening."
The woman smiled and withdrew at once.
Krazel leaned back slightly, motioning toward the empty chairs opposite him. "Hanon, there's no need for stiff formality here. Sit, both of you." His gaze settled on Aeloria, warm and openly admiring. "Your wife is truly breathtaking."
'Wife?' The word struck Aeloria like an unexpected gust. She felt her pulse quicken for a heartbeat, but kept her expression serene.
Hanon cleared his throat quietly. "I fear there's a misunderstanding, sir. She is my companion, nothing more."
'You don't have to sternly deny it, you know,' Aeloria thought with furrowed brows.
"Ah," Krazel said, a touch of regret in his tone. "A pity for the world, then. Please—make yourselves comfortable."
Hanon moved at once to pull out the nearest chair for Aeloria. She settled into it with a murmured thanks, smoothing her gown as she sat. Hanon took the seat beside her, his gazing sweeping the room for any suspicious person.
Krazel lifted his own cup in a small, welcoming salute, then set it down without drinking. The easy manner slipped away, replaced by something more guarded.
"I must ask this plainly," he said, voice lowered so it would not carry far. His eyes flicked toward Aeloria, suspicion clear beneath the politeness. "Is it wise to have her present for what we must discuss? This matter concerns my life, after all. I would prefer… discretion."
"Yes, it's fine," Hanon said calmly, meeting Krazel's gaze without hesitation. "She already knows the situation, and she's more than capable."
Aeloria offered a small, reassuring smile—steady and confident enough to ease at least some of the merchant's doubt.
Krazel studied them both for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Very well. I'll trust your judgment."
At that moment, a maid approached with graceful steps, carrying a silver tray. She set a fresh crystal cup in front of Aeloria and filled it with the same deep red wine.
"Your wine, miss."
"Thank you," Aeloria murmured.
Krazel turned to the maid. "Please bring us some of those fried mushrooms—the ones with the herb coating." He glanced at his guests. "Anything either of you would prefer?"
"Whatever you choose is fine with me," Aeloria said politely.
"The same," Hanon added.
"Then three servings of the fried mushrooms," Krazel confirmed.
"They'll be out shortly," the maid promised with a curtsey before slipping away.
Krazel leaned forward slightly, fingers laced around his cup. "So, Hanon—how do we proceed?"
Hanon took a measured sip of his wine before answering. "As long as you remain inside Norco's boundaries, no Thornsleeper will dare touch you. The town's rules are ironclad on no murder. But they won't wait forever. My guess is they're already watching and tracking your movements, waiting for the moment you step beyond the unmarked border."
"That much I gathered," Krazel said, his voice edged with frustration. "But I can't hide here indefinitely. My caravans are delayed, my people are waiting, and coin doesn't flow when a merchant sits still."
"If I may," Aeloria interjected quietly, lifting a hand. Both men turned to her at once.
She met their eyes evenly. "Since they cannot strike within the town, we should prepare to leave as soon as possible. Even if we identified the Thornsleeper watching you, we could do nothing about it here—the same rules protect them. The only way to end this quickly is to draw them out into the open and deal with them on our terms."
Before either man could respond, a different maid—this one younger, with auburn hair pinned neatly—arrived carrying a large tray. She placed three steaming plates of golden-fried mushrooms in the center, their surfaces crisp and glistening with oil, dusted with fragrant herbs.
"Please enjoy," she said softly, setting the last plate before Hanon, then withdrawing with a bow.
Krazel picked up one of the mushrooms, blowing lightly before popping it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, then spoke again.
"Are you suggesting I serve as bait?"
"Not at all," Aeloria replied. "You won't be alone. We'll all leave together. The target will follow, and we choose the ground where we meet them."
Hanon nodded, setting his cup down. "It's sound. We control the timing and the place. Better than waiting for them to choose."
Krazel ate another mushroom, considering. "I've dealt with Protectors before, but never one in such a hurry to face a Viper head-on." His gaze settled on Hanon, sharp and weighing. "I'm a wealthy man, Hanon. Many lives depend on my trade—workers, guards, whole families. How certain are you that this plan won't end with my head on the dirt?"
Hanon met the stare without flinching. "As certain as the sun never setting in the north."
Aeloria felt a quiet chill at the words. She knew Hanon better than most by now—he was a coward and the weakest man she had ever met. Worry stirred in her chest, but she kept it from her face.
Krazel exhaled slowly, then reached for another mushroom. "Very well." He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his fingers on a linen cloth before continuing. "That aside… there's something else I've been meaning to ask."
Hanon raised a brow. "Yes?"
"You said she is your companion, nothing more. Is that correct?"
"That is correct," Hanon confirmed. Aeloria listened quietly, curious where this was leading.
Krazel's gaze drifted to her again—lingering on the smooth lines of her face, the unusual purple of her eyes. "Then… would it be acceptable if I spoke with her privately for a moment? She caught my attention the instant she walked in. I would like—"
He never finished.
Hanon's palm slammed down on the table with a sharp crack that echoed through the upper hall. Cups rattled; a few nearby nobles glanced over in surprise. Hanon rose abruptly to his feet, his chair scraping back.
Aeloria flinched at the sudden noise and movement, her hand tightening briefly on the stem of her cup.
"Sir Krazel," Hanon said, "let us keep this discussion to the roles we each must play. We will meet here again tomorrow at the same hour. If you'll excuse us."
Without waiting for a reply, he reached for Aeloria's arm—not roughly, but firmly—and drew her up from her chair. She rose without resistance, caught off guard by the intensity radiating from him.
Together they turned and strode away from the table, Hanon's steps quick and purposeful down the carpeted floor, past curious glances from the wealthy patrons. Aeloria matched his pace, her mind racing.
They descended the stairs in silence, retrieved their packs from the guarded corner, and stepped out into the cooling evening air of Norco's bustling streets.
Only when they were several strides from the building did Hanon's grip on her arm loosen. He released her entirely, staring ahead as though the crowd parted before him.
'Why am I so angry?' The question burned in his heart unanswered.