The Black Swan Tavern was exactly the kind of place Kael loved. Tucked away in the lower districts, it wasn’t the kind of establishment his father approved of—certainly not for the son of Daren Raventhorn, heir to one of the wealthiest merchant families in the city. No, the Black Swan was too rough around the edges for people like that. But for Kael, that was precisely the appeal.
He slipped inside, immediately enveloped by the warmth and noise of the crowded room. The tavern was packed tonight, with sailors, dockworkers, and merchants crammed into every corner, their voices rising and falling with the murmur of conversation and the clink of mugs. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat and stale ale, mingling with the faint scent of wet wool and wood smoke from the fire that crackled in the hearth.
Kael paused near the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The tavern was lit by a few flickering lanterns and the low fire, casting long shadows across the stone walls and wooden beams. A bard sat in the corner, plucking out a lazy tune on a lute, his voice drowned out by the noise of the crowd. The wooden floorboards creaked underfoot as people shuffled between tables, their boots worn down by long hours on the docks. The whole place had the feel of a well-used ship—battered, but still afloat.
He grinned to himself, pulling back the hood of his cloak and shaking off the rain that had soaked into his hair. The chill from outside clung to his skin for a moment before the warmth of the tavern began to chase it away. This was home, more than the estate his father lorded over. Here, among the chaos, Kael could breathe.
“Look who decided to show up,” came a voice from his left.
Kael turned to see Aric leaning against the bar, already halfway through a mug of ale. His friend’s dark hair was damp from the rain, and his sharp features were lit by the glow of a nearby lantern. As usual, Aric looked like he was waiting for trouble to find him.
“Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Kael said, sliding into the seat next to him. He signaled the barmaid with a flick of his hand, ordering his usual without a word.
Aric raised an eyebrow. “Me? Trouble? You’ve got it backwards, mate. You’re the one who drags us into these messes.”
Kael grinned, leaning back against the bar. “I prefer to think of it as keeping life interesting.”
The barmaid arrived with his drink—a frothy mug of ale that smelled faintly of honey and spices. She gave him a tired smile as she set it down, her brown hair falling in loose waves around her face. Kael met her eyes for a moment, and despite the exhaustion in her gaze, there was something there—a spark, maybe? He raised his mug to her in thanks, and she moved on to the next table without a word.
“Don’t even think about it,” Aric warned, his voice teasing.
“Think about what?” Kael took a long drink of his ale, savoring the warmth as it slid down his throat.
Aric smirked. “You were giving her that look.”
Kael chuckled, setting his mug down with a clink. “What look?”
“The ‘I’m charming, and you know it’ look.”
Kael shrugged, leaning his elbows on the bar. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
Aric rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. “She’s probably seen your type a hundred times over.”
“Maybe,” Kael said, grinning. “But none of them were me.”
Aric shook his head, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“Because I’m the only person in this city who can make you laugh,” Kael shot back, his grin widening. “And you know it.”
They fell into easy conversation after that, the familiar rhythm of banter flowing between them. Despite their different backgrounds—Aric, the son of a simple craftsman, and Kael, born into wealth and privilege—the two of them had been inseparable since they were boys. They’d met by chance in the market square, both of them trying to steal the same apple from a vendor. Neither of them had gotten away with it, but they’d earned each other’s respect that day, and that respect had grown into a friendship that had carried them through every scrape and adventure since.
The barmaid passed by again, this time carrying a tray of empty mugs. Kael caught her eye as she walked past, flashing her his best grin. She raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips, but kept walking. Aric watched the exchange, shaking his head with a laugh.
“Hopeless,” he muttered.
Kael turned back to him, still grinning. “You’ll see. One of these days, I’ll win her over.”
“Sure you will,” Aric said dryly, leaning back in his chair. “Right after she’s done serving the other fifty patrons who’ve been eyeing her all night.”
The banter continued, their words flowing easily over the noise of the tavern. But beneath the surface, Kael’s mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t told Aric everything about why he’d come tonight—about the gnawing feeling in his gut, the sense that something was brewing just beyond his reach. It was like a storm building on the horizon, not yet here but close enough to make the air feel thick, electric. He couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change, and not for the better.
He took another sip of his ale, his eyes drifting toward the fire. The flames flickered and danced, casting shadows that twisted and stretched across the walls. For a moment, he thought he saw something—a figure moving in the darkness, just beyond the reach of the light. But when he blinked, it was gone.
Just the ale, he told himself. You’re being paranoid.
Still, the feeling remained, a heavy weight in his chest that refused to leave. He pushed it down, burying it beneath the familiar warmth of the tavern and the easy conversation with Aric. This was supposed to be a night to relax, to forget about the expectations of his family, the weight of being the heir to the Raventhorn name. He didn’t want to think about that tonight.
As the night wore on, the tavern grew louder, the conversations blending into a dull roar. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and sweat, the heat from the fire making the room feel almost suffocating. Kael’s cloak had dried by now, but the warmth had done little to shake the chill that still clung to him, a reminder of the cold rain outside.
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“You ever think about getting out of here?” Aric asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise. He wasn’t looking at Kael, his eyes focused on the foam in his mug.
Kael raised an eyebrow. “Out of the tavern? Because I’m pretty comfortable right where I am.”
Aric gave him a sidelong glance, his expression more serious than Kael was used to seeing. “No, I mean out of here. The city. The whole damn thing.”
Kael paused, his fingers drumming lightly against the side of his mug. The question caught him off guard, though it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “And go where?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
Aric shrugged. “Anywhere. Just… somewhere that isn’t here.”
Kael considered the idea for a moment, his mind wandering to the world beyond the city walls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave—he did, sometimes, more than he’d ever admit to anyone. But there was something about the city, something that held him here, tethered like an anchor. His father, his family’s legacy, the future he was supposed to inherit—it was all a cage, even if it didn’t always feel like one.
“Wherever we go,” Kael said finally, a grin tugging at his lips, “we’ll end up getting into trouble. You know that, right?”
Aric snorted, his serious expression breaking. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Trouble is what we’re best at,” Kael agreed, raising his mug in a mock toast. “To trouble, then.”
Aric clinked his mug against Kael’s, the tension of the moment slipping away as they both laughed. But even as the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the question lingered in Kael’s mind. What would it be like? he wondered. To leave it all behind, to go somewhere no one knew his name?
But that wasn’t his life. Not yet, anyway. For now, he was stuck where he was—caught between his family’s expectations and his own desire for something more. And until he figured out what that “more” was, he’d keep doing what he always did—finding ways to slip between the cracks, to steal moments of freedom where he could.
Kael leaned back, letting his eyes wander over the crowded tavern. It was getting late, and the patrons were showing signs of it. Some were well into their cups, voices growing louder, laughter turning more raucous. A group of sailors near the far corner was engaged in an enthusiastic game of dice, the thud of bones on wood punctuated by the occasional groan or cheer. The barmaid was still making her rounds, though now she looked more tired than amused, her steps slowing as the night wore on.
From the far side of the room, a commotion caught his attention. A pair of men stood, chairs scraping back across the floor as they squared off, their voices rising above the general din.
“Here we go,” Kael muttered, watching as the scene unfolded. One of the men, tall and broad-shouldered, leaned forward, jabbing a finger into the other man’s chest. From the look of them, they were both dockworkers—probably arguing over something trivial that had festered all night with the help of too much ale.
“Care to wager on how long before one of them throws a punch?” Aric asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Kael considered it for a moment, watching as the smaller man swayed slightly on his feet, his face flushed with drink. “I’d give it about ten seconds.”
“Five,” Aric countered, taking a sip of his ale.
They both watched in silence, and sure enough, barely a heartbeat later, the smaller man lunged, swinging a wild, sloppy punch that caught the larger man in the jaw. The brawl that followed was brief but effective—chairs clattered, mugs spilled, and a few unlucky bystanders found themselves shoved aside as the two men grappled across the floor. The bartender barked out a sharp order, and a couple of burly regulars quickly moved in to break it up, dragging the men apart and tossing them toward the door with little ceremony.
Kael chuckled softly. “You win.”
Aric grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Naturally.”
Despite the brief distraction, Kael’s thoughts continued to wander, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was coming—that the life he’d known up until now was on the brink of changing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the result of too much ale and a few too many reckless adventures.
But somewhere deep down, he knew better.
His fingers drifted toward the dagger tucked beneath his cloak, the familiar weight of it against his side offering a small measure of comfort. He’d had the blade for years, ever since he was a boy, but recently… recently it had started to feel different. There were moments when he held it—moments when the leather grip seemed to pulse beneath his fingers, like the dagger was humming with some strange energy. He’d never told anyone about it, not even Aric. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could easily explain without sounding mad.
But the truth was, Kael didn’t think it was his imagination. The dagger had always felt special to him, like it was more than just a blade. And as much as he tried to push the thought away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it—something that he hadn’t yet uncovered.
Aric’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. “You’ve got that look again.”
Kael blinked, realizing he’d been staring at the fire, lost in his own mind. He glanced over at Aric, forcing a grin. “What look?”
“The ‘I’m thinking about something I shouldn’t be’ look.”
Kael shrugged, taking another drink of his ale. “Just thinking about how lucky you are to have me as a friend.”
Aric snorted. “Lucky, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Absolutely,” Kael said, leaning back in his chair. “Without me, your life would be a lot less exciting.”
Aric raised an eyebrow. “Without you, my life would probably be a lot longer.”
Kael grinned, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift. There was something in the air tonight, something he couldn’t quite name. He could feel it, pressing in on the edges of his awareness, like the moments before a storm broke.
As if on cue, the door to the tavern swung open with a loud creak, the wind from outside gusting in with a burst of cold, damp air. Kael glanced toward the entrance, his eyes narrowing as a figure stepped inside. The newcomer was hooded, their face shadowed, but there was something about the way they moved—something that caught Kael’s attention.
The figure paused for a moment, scanning the room, before slipping into the shadows along the far wall, almost invisible in the dim light. Kael watched them for a few moments longer, his instincts prickling with unease.
“Trouble?” Aric asked, noticing his gaze.
Kael shrugged, though his eyes didn’t leave the shadowed figure. “Maybe.”
Aric followed his gaze, frowning. “You know him?”
“No,” Kael said slowly, “but I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”
Aric raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, the barmaid returned with another round of drinks, setting the mugs down with a thud that drew Kael’s attention away from the stranger. He gave her a quick smile, though his mind was still racing.
Something was shifting tonight. He could feel it—like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And if there was one thing Kael had learned in his seventeen years, it was that when you had a feeling like this, it usually meant trouble was just around the corner.
As the night dragged on, the tavern grew louder, the mix of voices and laughter blending into a steady hum. The air was thick with smoke and the warmth from the fire made everything feel just a little too close. Kael's cloak had dried, but the strange feeling in his gut hadn’t gone away. It was like something was hanging in the air, waiting to happen.
Aric finished his drink, setting the empty mug down with a loud thud. “You’re not thinking of turning in already, are you?”
Kael smirked, though his thoughts were still spinning. “What ?”
Aric leaned back in his chair, a familiar gleam in his eye. “Heard some interesting chatter about the docks. Word is, there’s been some unusual shipments coming in late. Crates that disappear before anyone asks too many questions.”
Kael’s interest piqued, his grin widening. "Smugglers?"
Aric shrugged, but there was a spark of mischief in his grin. “Could be. Or something more interesting.”
“Better than sitting here, at least,” Kael said, tossing a few coins on the table. “What are we waiting for?”
As they stood to leave, Kael felt the cold rush of air hit his face when they stepped outside. The rain had started again, soft but steady, tapping against the cobblestones. He pulled his hood up, looking out at the narrow, glistening streets. That uneasy feeling still lingered, but he pushed it aside. If there was trouble down at the docks, he wasn’t about to let it slip past him.
“Let’s see what they’re hiding,” Kael muttered, glancing at Aric. “Could be fun.”
Aric’s grin widened. “Always is.”
With that, they set off into the rain, slipping into the night with the promise of something far more interesting than another round of ale.