The tavern was warm, loud, and smelled of roasted meat and unwashed bodies.
"To the Captain!" Bren roared, raising a wooden tankard high. "And to the poor bastard who tried to eat us!"
"To the silver!" Silas added, clinking his mug against Griggs's.
Ale splashed over the rims, soaking the wooden table. The squad laughed, the sound rough and genuine. Even Kogan had a faint smirk buried in his beard as he drained his drink in one long pull.
Kael sat at the head of the table. He held his own tankard, staring at the frothy, pale liquid inside.
He took a sip.
It was bitter. Watery. It tasted like fermented grain that had gone bad halfway through the process.
He set it down.
Around him, the conversation shifted quickly. The tension of death was gone, replaced by the primal need for life's distractions.
"Did you see the barmaid?" Jarek leaned in, grinning. "The one with the red bodice? She looked at me twice."
"She was looking at your coin pouch, you idiot." Bren laughed, tearing into a loaf of bread. "Women like that look at knights, the ones with real coin."
"Well, I've got silver now, don't I?" Silas chimed in. "That makes me tall, handsome, and charming."
They laughed again.
A shadow fell across the table.
Kael looked up.
A woman stood there, young, with dark hair pinned loosely at the back of her neck. Her dress was simple but clean, cinched at the waist. She held a tray against her hip, but her eyes were on Kael.
"Another round for your table, sir?" Her voice was soft, practiced. But her gaze lingered a little too long.
"We're fine." Kael's tone was flat.
She hesitated, then smiled. "You're new here. I haven't seen you before."
"I come and go."
"Perhaps..." She shifted her weight slightly, the tray tilting. "Perhaps you'd like company later? After your men retire for the night?"
The table went quiet.
Bren grinned. Silas elbowed Jarek. Kogan raised an eyebrow.
Kael looked at her. His expression didn't change.
"No."
The word was simple. Final.
The woman blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Her smile faltered.
"Of course. My apologies, sir." She dipped her head and stepped back, disappearing into the crowd.
The table erupted.
"By the gods, Captain!" Bren slapped the table. "She was practically throwing herself at you!"
"And you just... 'No.'" Silas mimicked Kael's flat tone, then burst into laughter. "Like she asked if you wanted stale bread!"
Jarek shook his head, grinning. "I would've said yes in a heartbeat."
"You would've said yes to a tree stump if it smiled at you." Griggs muttered.
Kogan leaned back, arms crossed, studying Kael with a faint smirk. "You're a strange one, Captain."
Kael said nothing. He picked up his tankard and took another sip, ignoring the laughter around him.
He sat in silence and watched them. He saw the relief on their faces, the small wants laid bare—a warm bed, a woman's touch, a full belly.
He was there with them, yet apart. Moments like this never held. They flared, then passed. He knew that by morning, it would be gone—and the knowing left a quiet hollow where the warmth should have been.
Kael tried to listen. He tried to find a thread he could pull on, a way to join in.
But most of his life had been spent as a servant, hands buried in muck, shoveling horse dung from dawn to dusk. These conversations—easy laughter, idle wants—had never been meant for him. The words passed by, familiar in sound, empty of purchase.
The noise grated on him. The smell of the cheap ale made his stomach turn.
And beneath the laughter, the feeling was still there.
That cold, crawling sensation on the back of his neck. The intuition that had screamed at him in the forest. The farmer was dead, but the shadow hadn't lifted.
It was heavier.
Kael stood up.
The table went quiet instantly. Five pairs of eyes looked up at him.
"Captain?" Kogan asked, wiping foam from his beard. "Leaving already?"
"I have reports to finish." Kael reached into his pouch and dropped a silver coin onto the wet table. It spun and settled with a ring.
"Drink my share. Don't cause trouble."
"You sure, Captain?" Bren asked. "The night is young. The red bodice might look at you instead of Jarek. Or maybe that barmaid will come back."
"Enjoy it. That's an order."
He turned and walked out. As the door closed behind him, cutting off the warmth and noise, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
The cold night air felt better. Cleaner.