The bartender trembled slightly as he stuffed the gold coins into his pocket.
He scanned the bar to make sure that no curious eyes or ears were within close vicinity.
He leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a whisper that was heavy with old wounds and crushing memories.
"Three years ago… this was still hell," he began, his voice roughened by the dust of difficult years.
"The Valtorin's family settled...nobles of the Everwood Kingdom. They settled here for hope... For dreams."
He chuckled dryly without smiling.
But dreams did not matter where Lord Aric still governed the land like a leech. Draining gold from beggars, squeezing life from the weak. Crime? Hmph. It was no longer crime — it was simply life.
Zarel snorted beside Kaidën.
"Sounds cozy," he muttered, earning a silent glare from Kaidën.
The bartender didn't notice. His eyes were lost in memory.
