Before Kieran and I could break into a real shouting match, one of the people waiting outside banged loudly on the door. “Oi! We’re thirsty out 'ere!”

I took a deep breath and considered the situation. This was supposed to be a celebration, not a confrontation. We'd made incredible progress with the local brewers, and the judges had had time to sample their offerings. No point in letting Kieran's attitude spoil the moment.

"I want to thank you, Kieran," I said, forcing a pleasant smile. "For appearing at my humble little tavern. I'm sure my patrons will love you."

His mouth dropped open at my sudden change in demeanor, but he recovered quickly and forced an equally pleasant smile. I raised my voice and proclaimed magnanimously, "I have also reconsidered. Please feel free to keep all of the funds you collect tonight. I'm sure a man of your fame doesn't need the money, seeing as you're one of the most popular bards in the land. Consider it a token of my gratitude."

I turned away before Kieran could offer an answer, strode to the entrance, and threw open the door with a flourish. "Welcome to event night at The Shadow's Respite! We'll have food and new local brews to try, and I have a big surprise. The famed bard Kieran Darkrun is here!"

The crowd outside erupted in cheers. At least thirty villagers packed the street, with more heading our way from both directions. There was a fresh burst of excitement at the mention of Kieran's name.

"Come in, come in! We've got a massive pot of chili ready in the back and plenty more food available to order up front." The only reason we had any food ready, not to mention the tables for the vendors, was due to my crew and friends taking charge and making this day possible while Seraphina and I had napped for half the day. Speaking of, I wondered when she would be back. I was excited at the prospect of her staying with me for a few nights.

Exhaustion still chased me and tried to make me sluggish. I did my best to push it aside, but the restorative could only do so much to keep me on my feet. I needed more sleep. Desperately. Last night had been a roller coaster, and I was still unsure of the implications.

Jessara burst through the door behind me, slightly out of breath. She smoothed down her apron and took her position at the counter just as the first customers began to file in.

I needed to check on the kitchen. Making my way through the growing crowd, I pushed through the swinging door to find Lady Churl directing Grondak with military precision. The young orc stood and scratched his head, but he was also carefully monitoring a batch of chicken wings while a mountain of ground meat waited nearby for burger preparation.

"How's it looking back here?" I asked.

"Reckon we're ready as we're ever gonna be," Lady Churl replied, wielding her new knife with practiced ease.

"Lady Churl good teacher!" Grondak proclaimed.

I nodded at them and went back out.

Jessara handled the customers with ease, shouting out orders. I got to work doing double duty with Milo, bringing in bowls of chili from outside or burgers and chicken wings from the kitchen.

One of the many items on my to-do list was to work on some new sauces. I was getting good at the spice and my homemade buttermilk ranch dressing, but I wanted to do something with more garlic and a good powdery cheese if I could find some that could come close to the taste of parmesan. I practically drooled at the thought and realized I hadn't had a thing to eat all day. Not only that, but the alcohol samples on an empty stomach was making my face warm and the room spin.

Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I threw myself into the work. I had to play host, sort of a guest, because everyone wanted to hear more about the dragon, and I had to keep an eye on the judges to ensure there were no issues with the brewers.

"That's right, Guslan," I said to the old man as he stopped me while I brought out a half dozen onion burgers. "Rode her right out of the underground. She's magnificent."

Old Man Guslan sighed and swore since he'd missed the dragon. "Is she coming back?"

We had drifted toward the back as I served the food, which brought us into earshot of the bard. He glanced at us, rolled his eyes, and went back to a song that seemed to involve a young lass named Flower and two men who were helplessly in love with her.

"What's up his bum?" Guslan asked me after we had fallen under Kieran's withering gaze.

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I lowered my voice. "I'm not really sure. Maybe he has lady problems like the boys in his tales."

Old man Guslan nodded thoughtfully.

I excused myself, returned to serving customers, and mixed a few Orange Blushes. Most of the alcohol consumption in the tavern occurred in front of the brewers.

I had ulterior motives for engaging with Old Man Guslan. He was one of my best customers, and I could typically count on him to come in for a few ales per night. I was curious which of the brews he would favor. He didn't know it, but he was my fourth judge.

For the next hour, I rushed between tasks without pause. The tavern buzzed with energy as more people streamed in, drawn by the combination of local brews and Kieran's presence. I checked on the vendors, ensured glasses stayed full, and monitored the kitchen.

Roland waved me over to where the judges had gathered. "Varix, we've finished our tastings."

"Already? That's fantastic. What did you think?"

"Some real talent here," Fie said. "There are three standouts we'd recommend. We're in agreement on one of them but split on the other two."

Fie handed me a paper, and I read the recommendations. I liked what they had chosen, and my mind went to work calculating how to make them work in the tavern.

I noticed Kieran watching us from his corner, his expression sour despite the crowd hanging on his every word. I kept my face neutral and focused on the judges' recommendations. Between serving customers, I couldn't help but observe Kieran's performance. Despite his attitude, he was magnificent. His rich baritone filled the room as he wove tales of adventure and romance. His fingers danced across the lute strings with practiced precision. The crowd pressed closer, transfixed.

"Another round!" someone called out, and I hurried to fulfill orders. At least the packed house meant good business for everyone. The vendors were doing well, and my own limited stock was quickly depleting.

The space in front of the bard grew more cramped as people squeezed in. Good thing there weren’t fire codes on this world, because we would have been busted by now.

A woman entered the tavern, though I had never seen her before, something about her caught my attention. Her clothes were simple, almost rough - a worn dress that might have been made from burlap. She wasn't remarkable in appearance, but she moved with an unusual grace that clashed with her plain attire.

She wandered through the crowd, and her fingers traced patterns along the bar's surface. Her eyes took in everything - the crowds, the vendors, the performance. It was like she'd never seen anything quite like this before.

The woman's presence nagged at me. Something was familiar about her movements, though I couldn't place what. She navigated the packed room with fluid ease, studying the people around her with interest. I tried to keep track of her while managing the crowd, but between pouring drinks and coordinating with the kitchen, she kept slipping from my view. Each time I spotted her again, she was examining some new aspect of tavern life with seeming quiet fascination.

I was starting to feel good about the night and how things were selling. From this event alone, I would make enough money to keep this thing afloat for another month without cutting into my savings. Plus, I would soon have some new brews on hand. Then three men burst through the door, shoving their way into the packed tavern. They easily towered over most of the patrons. The first man, broad-shouldered with a thick dark beard and scarred knuckles, wore a leather vest that had seen better days. A jagged scar ran from his left ear to his jaw, disappearing into his beard.

The second man was bald, his head marked with old battle scars. He wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off arms covered in crude tattoos of weapons and skulls. A broken nose and cauliflower ears were a clear sign that this man had not only seen many fights, he had survived every one of them.

The third had long, greasy hair tied back with a leather strip. His face was pockmarked, and a patch covered his right eye. He carried himself confidently, and his hand rested near a dagger at his belt.

Their worn armor and callused hands marked them as former soldiers, or more likely, mercenaries. Doan had carried himself like this when I’d first met him, a far cry from the soft-spoken and upbeat blacksmith he was today.

I approached them, ready to offer drinks and hopefully keep the peace, but the bearded man's voice boomed across the tavern.

"Is this the place they let them stinkin' green skins in?"

“Here, now!” Voices rose in defense of The Shadow’s Respite.

The bald man and his one-eyed companion pushed through the crowd toward Kieran.

"Wha’ you doin’ ‘ere? Playing in this shit hole? Ain’t you Kieran Darkrune? Figure they got better places than this ‘round ‘ere, yeah?”

A light bulb went off in my head. The Baron must have hired these men, and they were here to intimidate the bard.

“Leave my establishment immediately!” I yelled much louder than I had intended, bringing a hush to the crowd.

The bearded man ignored me and kept yelling at Kieran, “You shouldn't play at a place like this 'ere. They say's they got green skins workin' 'ere.”

Kieran's music stopped abruptly. The silence felt heavy in the suddenly tense room. He pulled himself up and said, "I chose where I go and I chose where I play. Please depart my sight, or I shall name three piggies after you and put you in a song." He added an 'oink', which brought laughter from the crowd.

Old Man Guslan stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He faced the bearded man, his weathered face set with determination.

"Leave," Guslan said, his voice steady and firm. "You're not welcome here." He also added an oink.

I moved quickly to intervene, stepping between Guslan and the bearded man. He looked me up and down and smirked. "Look at this. We got this fella ain't look like he could stand up to a stiff wind, and his friend. Fella old enough to be my grandpa."

"If I were your grandpa, I'd smack your father and tell him to pass it on. It'd be a good start."

Another smattering of laughter was followed with fresh shouts for the men to leave.

The kitchen door swung open, and Lady Churl emerged, likely drawn by the commotion. Her face twisted into a grimace when she spotted the men.

"There's a green skin!" the one-eyed man bellowed, pointing at Lady Churl.