Wujun froze in place. This was not the sort of establishment filled with laughter and songs and lively conversation. The patrons weren’t jovial, hard-working men and the barmaids weren’t lovely in the slightest. These were dingy people, huddled together in dark corners or over tables covered with tokens, dice, and coins.

The serving women were the epitome of what he’d imagined a “wench” to be: older and far past their prime. Their faces were painted with cracking, caked on white make-up and their red lipstick was smudged. They looked like some horrific version of the high-class ladies who entertained in reputable tea houses and theaters back in Kibesu. The clientele didn’t seem too bothered by their ghastly appearances; a warm body was still a warm body after all.

“Stop gawkin’!” someone shouted.

“Yeah! Come in o’ get out!” another voice hollered.

“Oh!” Wujun cleared his throat, trying to fix a less surprised, disturbed expression to his face as his feet carried him over the threshold. He didn’t forget his manners and made sure the door shut securely behind him.

It felt like every eye in the room was following him as he strolled as casually as he could manage to the counter. He hesitantly brushed his hood back, realizing he might not have appeared too friendly either. This seemed to have the opposite effect as even more heads turned to take in his exotic, nearly white hair.

It’s fine… This is totally fine. This is just… another… adventure…

He filled the nearest spot at the bar and began to put his hands on the countertop, but upon seeing the filth there thought better of it.

“Well, hello, fine sir!” Wujun called to the barkeep, motioning him over with an elegant flourish. “Might I trouble you for a round of your finest ale?”

Geez Wujun, stop saying ‘fine’!

The man behind the bar swiped at his scraggly mustache with the back of his bony hand, sizing the young man up with a shrewd stare. “Well, tha’ would depend…” he sniffed, reaching for a bottle from beneath the counter, “on if ya got any fine coin.”

The patrons sitting nearby cackled at the joke, making Wujun’s ears flush pink. Not just because he sounded like a fool, but because he didn’t actually have any coin. He’d thought of everything, from how he’d get out of the house, to climbing the gate and not once had he considered a need for money.

Wujun laughed nervously. “A fair point. Perhaps, just water for now…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, hoping nobody would think he’d been trying to swindle anyone.

“Water, huh?” The barkeep sniffed loudly again, setting the bottle back down. “There’s a well outside if ya want water…”

“Ah yes.” The flush spread to his cheeks. “Another fair point…” He took a step back, intending to hurry out of the tavern and forget he’d ever been stupid enough to go inside in the first place, but he ran into something solid. A second later, a lanky arm draped itself around his shoulders. The smell nearly made him gag.

Before he could fully process what was going on, the stinky man had pushed his way up to the bar as well. They were joined by another, equally dirty individual, who squeezed himself in on Wujun’s other side. He noted immediately that the others who had been nearby suddenly had somewhere else to be. Wujun would have liked to join them, but his path to escape was blocked by a towering, blank-faced brute directly behind him. That must have been who he’d stepped into. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck. The man on his left picked at Wujun’s silk sleeve as if trying to determine its worth; the gesture did not instill confidence.

“Come now, barkeep, is that any way to treat our new friend here?” Even more vile breath blasted into Wujun’s face as the man spoke, making his stomach turn. “Bring the kid a drink, on my tab!”

Dubious at first, the thin barkeep hesitated until the last part sunk in and then his manner changed entirely. “A’right, a’right. If ya’re going to pay for it, I’ll not let the boy go thirsty.” In double the time it’d taken him just to grab the bottle before, he had a cup laid out and was pouring dark, amber liquid into it. Once it was about half full, he pushed the mug closer to Wujun. “Drink up!” His mustache quivered into a grin.

Hesitant to accept what he knew wasn’t sincere generosity, Wujun tried to thank them and leave, but the three men had him blocked in. “Oh, very well.” He hoped they wouldn’t notice his fingers were trembling as he took hold of the cup. “My thanks, gentleman.” He used the polite honorific, despite how obvious it was they were little more than street thugs.

Wujun raised the mug up to his lips, hesitating only a second before tilting it back. He had never imbibed alcohol before; he couldn’t deny there were equal parts excitement and apprehension as he waited for the first frothy drops to splash into his waiting mouth. He was not ready for the earthy, almost sour taste that rolled over his tongue or the sting that burned all the way down his throat.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Coughing, Wujun put the mug back down on the counter and pushed it away. If that was their finest ale, he’d hate to try their cheapest!

Around him, his new “friends” and the barkeep were all laughing. One tried to pound him on the back to help but each blow was so hard that it just made things worse. He tried to smile and keep up the front that everything was okay. Perhaps if he went along, they’d get bored and wander off…

“That’s enough, you’ve had your fun.” A deep voice cut through the raucous laughter like a honed blade through flesh. “Leave the kid alone.”

The man with his arm still around Wujun’s shoulders tugged it away immediately and the meat-shield of a thug at his back took a couple steps to the side. He was sure he heard the barkeep mutter “Ironfang” with an awe of fear.

Wujun wiped spittle from his mouth and then glanced over his shoulder to see who this newcomer called Ironfang was. The second his eyes fell on him, his jaw dropped. He had never seen such a beautiful, haunted man before in his entire life. Which, considering how sheltered he’d been, wasn’t saying much. All the same, he would bet his family’s entire fortune he’d never again meet someone so captivating.

Ironfang was the tallest man in the room. He stood a head above the brutish thug that had blocked Wujun’s escape a few moments ago and his shoulders were broad, his neck thick with muscles. Each meaty forearm was wrapped in a metal gauntlet decorated only by intricate, archaic symbols around the wrists. He couldn’t tell what they said, though it was possible the glyphs were mere decoration and said nothing at all. Dark, steel-gray eyes glared from beneath a curtain of unruly black bangs. The rest of his hair hung over his shoulder in a braid that fell well past his waist, which Wujun imagined had never known a blade.

Speaking of, his eyes were drawn to the man’s belt, where he kept a pair of strange, curved swords. They were both well cared for; even the scabbards appeared in good condition. Either he never used them, or he spent a lot of time maintaining them.

As he stepped closer, Wujun felt his pulse quicken and his cheeks grow warm again. There was something else about this man, a strange tug on his senses that he couldn’t quite explain. Like someone calling out to him over a great distance, someone familiar and safe. Had he met this Ironfang before?

“You lot, fuck off.” He didn’t look at the three thugs at all. Instead his steely gaze was squarely fixed on the barkeep. All the same, they slinked back into the shadows, glaring balefully at the man who had ruined their fun.

“And you…” He flicked something gold and round toward the bartender, that he fumbled and nearly dropped; it was a yuun piece. “Consider the kid’s tab paid. And if I see you passing that swill you call whiskey off to anyone else, I’ll force it down your fucking gullet. We clear?”

The older man didn’t seem pleased, but he nodded all the same. “Yeah, yeah, we’re clear, Ironfang.” He sneered the name this time, then cowered an instant later as its bearer frowned at him.

Wujun watched the exchange and found it difficult to keep his eyes from straying to Ironfang’s face. It didn’t take him long to figure out how he’d gotten such a moniker either. Every time he spoke the dim tavern light glinted lazily off a metallic canine on the left side of mouth. Wujun’s brow furrowed. If he had to guess, he was sure the tooth had to be made of silver, as iron wouldn’t have held up in such a moist environment as they were more susceptible to rust…

“Why Ironfang, if it’s made of silver?” he mused absently, unaware he’d spoken aloud. For a moment, he’d forgotten all about where he was, and that the owner of the tooth was a tall, scary man who could probably pummel him without breaking a sweat. “Oh! Apologies.” Wujun gave them a sheepish grin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Ironfang just blinked at him, then turned back to the barkeep. “Mind your shit,” he said as a final warning, then he clamped his large hand onto Wujun’s shoulder and started dragging him toward the door. “Come on, kid. Time to go.”

Despite protesting the entire way there, Wujun’s pleas were ignored, and he was not released until the pair of them were standing outside in the brisk cold of the night. Straightening his clothes and frowning like a sullen child, he huffed at the bigger man in a manner that was a perfect match to Goratsu when he was frazzled. “That was unnecessary. I had everything under—”

“No, you didn’t. Rabbits should know better than to wander into the wolves’ den.” He started walking down the street, his eyes, black in the darkness, flicking from shadow to shadow. “You’re soft, no weapons, silk tunic. Every man in there was scheming to rob you blind and you have the fucking audacity to tell me you had it under control? Nice set of balls at least…”

Wujun followed, but his ears burned, and his throat felt suddenly dry. Had his situation really been so dire? Then it occurred to him. “Are you going to rob me?”

That made Ironfang stop and look back at him. “Do I look like a thief?” He sounded almost insulted.

“No, you look like a sword for hire if I had to guess. A reputable one at that, considering the men in there knew you on sight.” Wujun shrugged. “I may not get out much, but I have basic powers of deduction, you know.”

The swordsman grunted, though he studied him more closely now. “You’re a strange young man. What’s your name?”

“Oh!” In all the commotion, he’d totally forgotten proper introductions. He bowed hastily and said, “I’m Wujun of Kibesu.”

“Kibesu, huh? That’s quite a way from here,” came the reply. “I’m—”

“Ironfang, right?” Wujun straightened. “I heard the barkeep call you that.”

The other man made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “That’s a stupid name given to me by stupid fucks I couldn’t be bothered to share my real name with.” He started walking again and then added, “You were right in the tavern. It’s silver. How’d you know?”

Wujun had to jog a couple steps in order to catch up. “I didn’t know exactly… I guessed based on the fact iron would be more likely to rust...”

“Not to mention, taste like ass,” he growled, appearing even more annoyed.

“Well, if I’m not to call you… that… then what should I call you?” Wujun ventured after a brief silence.

Once again, the swordsman stopped, his tone and demeanor softening. “Kentai. My name is Kentai.”