"Ale and ashes," I muttered when the big bearded guy spotted Lady Churl and pointed at her.

"Alright. That's enough. I want you three out of here." I raised my voice again.

He ignored me and advanced on Lady Churl.

Greasy-haired dagger guy snaked through the crowd toward Kieran, yelling at the bard, "Look at what this 'en lets in his tavern! Ain't no place for Darkrune to work! Come on, bard. Let's get you to a place where'n you're appreciated and whatnot."

Lady Churl grimaced, and I noticed she was still holding her murder-chef knife in one hand. I knew how good she was with that blade. The last thing I wanted was bloodshed during my first event night.

"Best be on your way," she told the man.

The bearded man’s sneer widened as he ignored my command, his boots thudding heavily across the floor as he closed in on Lady Churl.

I raised my hands in what I hoped was a calming gesture. "There's no need for this," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You’ve made your point. Now, leave my tavern."

The greasy-haired one, weaving through the crowd like an eel through water, snarled back at me. His voice dripped with venom. "A green skin! In here! You let that filth handle food? Handle drinks? What’re you playing at, Vel’Naris?"

That caught the crowd's attention. The murmurs of unease shifted to something sharper, sturdier.

"That 'filth' saved this town!" shouted a woman from the back. "If it weren’t for her and the orcs, those bandits would’ve taken everything we had!"

More voices joined hers.

"She’s done more good than you ever will!"

"Get outta here, you don’t belong!"

"You're the filth!"

The greasy-haired man’s face twitched as the shouts grew louder, the townsfolk rallying to my side. He kept moving, though, slipping closer to Lady Churl, possibly trying to catch her in a flanking motion between him and his friend.

I caught the glint in his eye, and the way his fingers rested too close to the dagger at his belt.

“Don’t,” I warned and stepped toward him.

Before I could reach him, Grondak exploded out of the kitchen.

The room seemed to shrink around him. His broad shoulders brushed the edges of the doorway as his hulking frame barreled forward. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. His focus locked entirely on the greasy-haired dagger guy.

The man's eyes shot wide open in shock.

Grondak’s large hand shot out and wrapped around the man's neck. The dagger fell from his belt as his hands flew up in a useless attempt to pry Grondak’s fingers loose. His eyes bulged as he let out a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. Grondak, smiling, lifted the man off the floor as though he weighed no more than a sack of flour. Ignoring the chaos around him, Grondak spun on his heel, lowered the man, and began dragging him toward the exit.

"Father say rip off head very satisfying!"

"Do not rip off that man's head!" I yelled after Grondak.

The bald fighter with the scarred head roared in fury, his voice cutting through the tavern. He surged forward, shoving townsfolk aside.

His charge abruptly stopped when he ran straight into a wall.

Not a literal wall, mind you, but Ragna the blacksmith might as well have been one.

The scarred man stumbled back a step, looking up in pure surprise.

Ragna didn’t give him time to recover. With a fluid motion, she swung the oversized mug in her hand and its heavy ceramic base crashed down on his skull with a dull thud.

The man staggered, clutching his head, and Ragna, taking a cue from Grondak, wrapped him in a headlock before he could get his bearings. "I'm right behind you, Grondak," she called to the young orc.

I chased after them, worried Grondak might actually follow through with his head ripping threat. It also felt like my duty to stop the young orc since his father, Urzan, wanted a different life for his son.

Meanwhile, the big bearded man had shifted his focus to Kieran. He loomed over the bard as if trying to intimidate him.

"You're better than this," the bearded man barked. "What’re you doing here, playing for the likes of them?"

Kieran calmly set his lute down and stood, his movements smooth and deliberate.

"You’re blocking my stage," he said, his rich baritone voice carrying over the noise.

The bearded man leaned closer, baring his teeth.

In a flash, a knife appeared in Kieran's hand. His other hand shot out and gripped the man’s head firmly. The bard moved so fast the bearded man didn’t even have time to react before the blade hovered a breath away from his eye.

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The room seemed to hold its collective breath.

"Now, my friend. It seems your other two companions are being escorted out of here. Might I suggest you do the same?" Kieran asked softly.

"Might be a good idea," the man replied, nodding.

"Yes, it might," Kiernan said.

I caught Kieran’s actions out of the corner of my eye as I bolted through the door after Grondak and Ragna. The last thing I needed was a decapitated troublemaker on my first event night.

"Why make pig noise? Maybe you pig!" Grondak bellowed and shook his captive like a rag doll.

"Yes! Yes, I'm a pig!" the man squealed, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

As I burst through the tavern doors, I nearly collided with an unexpected group. Caden, Alic, and Mira stood there with Triolux trailing behind them, his strange form catching the evening light. He inclined his head at me, and I nodded back.

"Here now, what's this?" Alic called out, his captain's badge glinting.

"Just in time," I told them.

"We were coming up for the event. Looks like the party's already started," Mira called to me.

Ragna marched forward, still gripping her victim by the scruff of his neck. She shoved him toward the group with enough force to send him stumbling. Doan, planted firmly with one foot back, met the stumbling man like a stone wall. The ruffian bounced off Doan's massive frame and landed flat on his back in the dirt.

"Hi Grondak," Caden said cheerfully, spotting me and throwing up a friendly wave. "Tavern brawl?"

Ragna brushed off her hands. "These were intimidating the customers and threatening Lady Churl. I also think they were trying to drive off the bard."

Alic looked the man over. "Captain Alic Ashfall of the town guard," he announced formally.

"They threw us out for no reason. We weren't doin' nothing wrong," the bearded troublemaker protested from his spot on the ground. "We was just there for a pint. Not this trouble. We're good people."

"Is that right?" Mira drew her sword, leveling it at the bearded man.

"Captain! Control this crazy woman!" he yelped.

Mira's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I'm the crazy girlfriend of the captain of the guard."

The man shrank even farther.

"Oh, she's more than that," Alic added. "Mira here is a decorated veteran of the war against the dark lord. She’s fought all across Mythralon. She is also friends with the owner whose tavern you just tried to start a brawl in.”

"Work friends." Mira winked at me.

The bearded man's face drained of color. His friend let out another squeak as Grondak's massive hand tightened around his throat.

"Grondak. Do not rip that man's head off!" I told the orc.

"Okay, but he is evil man! Say bad things about green skins!"

"Oh, did he?" Mira asked.

"They wanted to kill Lady Churl!" Grondak added.

"No, we didn't!" the man Grondak held squeaked.

Grondak squeezed harder.

"Yes, we did!" the man cried out.

Alic continued. "We know Varix to be a fine man who has done much for the community. We don't know you. You'll get a chance to explain your side to the magister."

Grondak released him with a deep chuckle, dropping the man unceremoniously to the ground. I was just relieved the guy still had his head.

Alic looked Grondak over and said, "You know. We could use a guy like you in the guard."

"Grondak happy with tavern job! Also father say if join military father will rip off my leg!"

I pounded my chest as my breath exploded in a fit of coughing. I nodded at Alic and said, "There's one more of these troublemakers inside."

Alic pulled out a whistle and blew it, the shrill sound cutting through the evening air. "Some of the village guards will be along shortly to collect these men," he announced, tucking the whistle back into his pocket.

Mira kept her sword drawn, the blade glinting menacingly in the fading light. She leveled a glare at the two men on the ground. "If either of you even thinks about running, I'm going to let Grondak get his wish."

Grondak grinned, his tusks gleaming. The men paled further and shrank back from the young orc's eager expression.

“Very exciting. Is it always like this?” Triolux asked enthusiastically.

The two men on the ground grew very quiet as they stared at Triolux.

“No. Thankfully,” Caden replied.

I turned to head back into the tavern, ready to deal with the last ruffian, but the door burst open before I could take a step. The greasy-haired man flew out, landing face-first in the dirt. He rolled over with surprising grace and started to sit up.

Kieran appeared in the doorway, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. His hand whipped out, and a six-inch blade flashed through the air. It embedded itself in the ground between the greasy-haired man's splayed legs, dangerously close to his crotch.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the quivering blade mere inches from his most sensitive area.

Quick as a whip, Kieran’s hand reached behind his back, and another blade appeared in his hand. I hadn’t even noticed any weapons on the bard.

His voice was low and dangerous. "You are not welcome at any of my performances in the future."

The greasy-haired man nodded frantically, not daring to move a muscle. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to inch away from the knife without drawing any further attention to himself.

I turned to the bard. “Thanks, Kieran,” I told him. “Where did you learn those knife skills?”

Kieran drew himself up, tucked his hand around his waist, and gave me a quick little bow. “I have been a bard for a very long time. There are certain skills that are essential in my trade, and this is one.”

Kieran demonstrated by flipping his blade, catching the tip between two fingers, and making the blade dance as he tossed it in the air a few times, catching it expertly after each toss. As he performed with the knife, his eyes were drawn to Triolux.

The ferrokin’s eyes followed the dancing blade, and he grinned and nodded appreciatively.

‘Who, or what, is that?” Kieran pointed at Triolux.

“He’s Triolux. He’s a member of a long-lost race called the ferrokin. He’s been sleeping for thousands of years. I did mention the pre-cataclysmic city under the tavern, right?”

"I had thought it a fanciful tale, just like the dragon. I suspected you'd all seen a large lizard."

I laughed. "Oh, no. It was a dragon large enough to fit four on her back."

"Remarkable." Kieran nodded.

Triolux and the bard walked toward each other. The bard lowered himself to one knee to level his head with the ferrokin. They leaned in and spoke quietly for a moment. Kieran pulled back and held out his hand. Triolux nodded, smiling.

Kieran touched the ferrokin’s arm, hand, and shoulder, pressing and squeezing. He pulled back and breathed, “I must say it again. Remarkable.”

"I feel the same about, well, all of this," Triolux said as he turned his head back and forth, taking in the village. "Such beauty."

The bard rose and approached me. “Varix, I thought you were delusional. You, however, have granted me a gift that I am not worthy of. Triolux has agreed to tell me his tale and that of his race.”

I laughed at that. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who finds me delusional."

A moment later, the guards arrived to take the men into custody, making me breathe a sigh of relief. The event night had nearly been ruined, but thanks to my friends' quick actions and the townsfolk's loyalty, we’d managed to avoid a full-scale brawl. Not to mention winning over someone who had been an annoyance mere minutes ago.

Grondak grinned and said, “Very fun event! Grondak like excitement!”

“You’re the only one,” I told him.

He turned and went back inside. I followed, hoping to get the event back on track. I still had the winning brews to announce, and there was a lot of food left to sell.