“Ugh, coin... That’s what we need,” Edric groaned and dropped his head onto the tavern’s wobbly table. In the crowded room, alive with voices and smelling of cheap ale, it was nearly impossible to properly sulk. 

They called the place ‘The Ripple & Riddle.’ It perched atop an old stone bridge over the city’s quiet canal. Even though it clearly needed repairs, it still had a cozy charm for its regulars. 

Edric shot a brief glare at Lyra, who sat across from him with a half-empty tankard. “Flat broke, and it’s killing me,” he muttered, drumming his fingertips against the scarred tabletop.

Lyra smirked and sipped her cheap ale. “I hate to say I told you so. Actually”—her grin widened—“I take that back. You had ample chance to set things right.”

He lifted his head, squinting against the sunlight pouring in. “Let’s remember who roped me into that sham job for half-pay in the first place. Unless I’m forgetting, you’re just as stuck as I am.”

Lyra shrugged. “Fine, we’re both in the muck.” She let out a small sigh. “We’ll find proper work soon enough. If everything goes sour, we can always wring a little sympathy out of soft-hearted folks.” With a tilt of her tankard, she drained the remaining ale. 

Before he could reply, an anxious voice from behind the bar caught their attention. Old Jannik, the wiry tavern owner, held a crumpled parchment in his rough hands. His brow was more creased than usual. A few patrons glanced their way but went back to their cups.

Edric and Lyra exchanged looks. Legitimate jobs were scarce, and if Jannik needed help, this might be their chance to earn some coin. 

“Speaking of charity,” Edric murmured, pushing himself upright. “Looks like our dear friend might have a problem that could solve our own.”

Lyra slid her empty tankard aside. “If we’re lucky, this might be the ‘real job’ we’ve been hoping for.”

“You two,” he said gruffly, voice carrying a tinge of relief. “Got a moment?”

Edric flashed a crooked smile. “For you, Jannik? Always.”

Lyra, standing a half-pace behind Edric, adopted her usual guarded expression. “Does this moment pay?”

Jannik sighed. “Gods know I wouldn’t be asking if it didn’t.” He paused to glance around the tavern. Most patrons were too drunk to eavesdrop. “But don’t expect a princely sum. Times are tight for me, too.”

Edric’s gaze flicked to the parchment. Although it lay upside down, he made out a fractured city crest at the top—a stylized hawk’s wing. “Something official?”

“Or a threat,” Lyra said softly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Jannik grimaced, clearly debating how much to reveal. Eventually, he exhaled in resignation. “A bit of both. It’s from Councilman Rhyden. He claims I owe more ‘city improvements’ fees. If I don’t pay—or make some deal—he’ll shut me down.” 

“Rhyden,” Edric muttered, tapping a finger against the bar. “He’s the one hiking fees in the northern quarter, isn’t he?”

“Aye,” Jannik confirmed, lowering his voice further. “And he’s always careful enough to leave no loose ends. If I give him so much as a copper, he’ll bleed me dry.”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “Why not just pay the watch directly—the usual bribe?” 

“Rhyden’s beyond that now,” Jannik said bitterly. “He’s got enough muscle to demand all he wants. I need a more permanent fix—something that’ll force him to back off.”

Edric weighed the risk in his mind. Going up against a councilman felt way too ambitious for two nearly broke freelancers. Still, if Rhyden had that much money, it could mean a good payday—if they lived to see it. Desperation (or was it determination?) lit a spark in Edric’s eyes. 

“So,” he said. “Where do we start?”

Jannik let out a breath, tension leaving his shoulders. He tucked the parchment into a drawer. “Leverage. Rhyden’s up to something—maybe smuggling, maybe worse. Bring me proof—documents, names, anything—and I’ll use it before he buries me.”

Lyra leaned an elbow on the bar, her posture deceptively casual. “That’s a bit broad. Where do we even start?”

“Word has it he’s got some deal in the docks. Maybe smuggling, maybe worse. If you find out who he’s working with—some details of that deal—or better yet bring back documents or a confession, I’ll pay you all I can.” 

He cleared his throat. “I’d consider you permanent friends. Free drinks, and a free bed in the storage room, if things get dire.”

Edric and Lyra exchanged a look. Free drinks weren’t exactly piles of gold, but steady coin, and a safe haven, wasn’t an offer they got every day.

“We’ll do it,” Edric said, trying to sound confident. “But we’ll need a little coin up front. We can’t pull this off with just”—he gestured at their threadbare clothes—“this.”

Jannik reached into his apron pocket and produced ten small silver coins. It wasn’t dazzling, but it was something. “I can spare this much. It’s a pittance—I’m sorry.”

Lyra scooped up the coins with delicate precision. “You’ll owe us more if we succeed.”

Jannik rubbed the back of his neck, his smile strained. “You have my word. Just don’t spook Rhyden. If he catches wind that you’re sniffing around...” He trailed off, letting the warning hang in the air. 

Rumors of Rhyden’s ruthlessness were known. Lyra and Edric exchanged a silent look, each acknowledging the risk. A councilman with enough power to extort citizens at will wouldn’t hesitate to cut down two freelance nobodies. 

But Lyra had one more lingering doubt. “Why us?” she asked, fixing Jannik with a sharp stare. “We’re neither brilliant investigators nor champion fighters.” 

Jannik shrugged helplessly. “Because in a tavern full of half-drunk patrons, you two stand out as just desperate—or crazy—enough to say yes. No offense.”

The two of them were slightly startled by his honesty, they did have a reputation for taking nearly any request. Never getting a real stable job because it wasn’t ‘fun’, but this time their fun might end differently.

Edric mustered a dry laugh. “At least you’re honest.” He rested a hand briefly on the bar in a half-promise, half-farewell gesture, then turned toward the exit. 

Lyra shot Jannik a final measured glance and followed suit. Sunlight hit them with a searing brightness as they stepped onto the old stone bridge, the canal water glimmering far below. The gentle murmur of the current and the hush of the midday breeze seemed oddly peaceful—an ironic contrast to the dangerous errand that lay ahead. 

Silver coins jingling faintly in Lyra’s pouch, they set off, shoulders back and heads high, each hoping this job wouldn’t be their last.