By the time he had reached town, Petyr’s mind raced uncontrollably.

None of these things made sense. He tried to connect what he already knew namely that Soverni skysail and the appearance of this mysterious woman his father mentioned along with the crossbow bolt that shot out of nowhere.

There was only one logical conclusion to draw: We’re at war.

Or maybe it wasn’t that logical because it made no sense to Petyr at all. The Soverne Republic was simply too distant for Weston to matter to it in any way. Besides, they weren’t warlike—this he felt quite certain of.

Nor could he see why, if they were at war, there would be a single woman out there stalking their house and killing eagles. Sure, his family was respected in Windust, but it’s not like they were key players. And Windust itself remained a completely irrelevant backwater.

No better answer came to him by the time he reached town, but he hoped he could find answers, though he remained hesitant about saying what he’d seen. Growing up in Windust taught him a valuable lesson in that regard: unless something needed saying, it was better to keep it to yourself.

Petyr went down the main street, nodding to a few of the locals that greeted him out of respect (they knew whose son he was), then made his way up towards the tavern.

Travelers might’ve kept their children away from the tavern given its reputation, but that was because their image of it was different.

They imagined opening a door and stepping inside of a wild interior where there were half-dressed women sitting at a bar and bandits kicking back with their feet on the table playing cards.

In reality, the main entrance to the building opened up to the hallway. In front of it was an opulent staircase.

The first flight of stairs was often taken by locals who treated it as a good place to sit by and pass the time to talk, almost like a park bench.

But at the landing the staircase bifurcated. On the right, there were the sleeping quarters of some bandits (those of importance, like Nik, others slept where they could) and the rooms that were to be rented out.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The flight of stairs on the left led up to the rooms the whores used with their clients, and you could always see them hanging out there, gossiping, cracking sunflower seeds and even drinking.

The first floor was no different. To the right of the entrance was the tavern proper, and that’s where most went to eat for cheap, and maybe have a light drink—a decent place, in other words. This was the real tavern people referred to.

The left was where the degenerates that were a few drinks in went to gamble away what little they had, under the supervision of Nik and his boys who were always hanging around. The whores came down here too to entice them.

This second place was just referred to as the Room, something that may have confused a foreigner, but which any local would’ve known the meaning of.

Technically, Petyr wasn’t allowed in the Room due to his age, but as with most things Nik made an exception for his sake.

Right, I should just go talk to him. Tell him about my situation. Maybe even about the things I saw…

If there was anyone he trusted as both worldly and grounded, it was Nik.

But before he could go in, he saw a familiar figure darting down the staircase, jumping over the heads of two men who were playing backgammon.

“You get back here, you little bitch!” a woman shouted, rushing after her, cheeks flushed, wearing a nearly see-through chemise and a multi-colored corset. A mass of shiny red hair was piled on top of her delicate head.

Petyr knew her of course. Tulip. She was much older than the other girls, but in spite of her age she’d retained her looks over the years—less so her charm. “You’re supposed to do as I say!”

Mora landed just a few steps away from him and growled, “You spit on me!”

“Because you talk back! You disobey me! You’re a kid and a hornhead and my property! You’ll do as you’re told. But don’t you worry, I’ll tell Nik about this. He’ll set you straight.”

The voice was so smooth and sweet that it was impossible to come across as threatening no matter what. It was obvious she grew up her whole life just to be a pleasant and loving doll.

Even Alis, as wholesome and homey as she was, could turn surprisingly terrifying if angered.

Realizing there was no battle to be won here today, Tulip smiled warmly at the men whose attention she’d drawn and made her way back up.

Petyr arched his brows pointedly at Mora. “And here I was thinking you had drowned.”

Whirling, she pushed him back and snarled, “I’ll get you back for that!”

He just sighed and rolled his eyes. “Calm down, I’m already over it. Besides, there’s more important stuff going on. Is Nik up yet? Have you seen him?”

“He’s with—” Mora stopped and stared at him. The anger drained from her face. She gulped.

Petyr chuckled darkly, almost as if daring fate. No way does this day can get worse, can it? “He’s with whom?”