The night at the tavern was in full swing by the time Sera came down from her room dressed for work. Somehow she missed her father when she came in for the night, but ran into him as she passed through the kitchen.

Simon Bennett was a large intimidating man with a powerful physique and short, graying hair. A gruff, sparse beard covered his face which almost always bore a look that challenged any man to cross him. From time to time, altercations with unruly patrons would arrive. When Simon showed up to inquire as to what the problem was, any squabble instantly ended just at the sight of him.

“You’re late.” he said flatly.

“Sorry.” Sera sighed. “Tristan Feller cornered me on the way here. Tried to get me to play hooky with him tonight.”

Simon raised an eyebrow at her.

“Daddy, no. I’m not interested. At all.” Simon was an intimidating man, but it was mostly just looks. Inside that large chest was a soft heart.

He sighed as Sera washed her hands. “He likes you.”

“He likes any pretty girl.”

“Well,” Simon tilted his head. “You’re the prettiest girl in town. Possibly on the whole continent. All of Soror, even.”

“You’re my father, of course you think that.”

“Everyone thinks that,” he said, crossing his arms. “He’s a hard worker. He’s a good kid-”

She cut him off. “He’s an arrogant, self-obsessed weasel who would take any girl who’s hand he could get down his pants.” She wasn’t angry, she was just stating facts.

“He’s a boy.”

“Exactly.” she replied, “He’s a boy.”

Simon sighed. “Sweetheart, you will never know the conflict that exists in the mind of any father who has a daughter. Instinct drives me to want to beat anyone to a pulp who even remotely thinks of laying a hand on you but…” he paused and she cast him a curious look. “I would like to have grandchildren someday.”

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Sera made a face. “I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to get me married off.”

“You’re seventeen years old, Sera.” her father said with a concerned look. “Most girls your age are married by now, you don’t even seem to have prospects.”

Sera ignored the statement.

“You know, Chelsie was proposed to a few days ago, I hear.” Simon pointed out. “She’s three years younger than you and she’s getting married in two months.”

Chelsie was a girl who worked at the tavern, Sera was friends with her.

“That’s what Chelsie wants, not me.” Sera retorted.

“What do you want?” Simon asked, but he knew he was losing this argument. Yet again.

“I want to help people.” she answered with a smile. “Helping people makes me happy.”

“Well then,” Simon put his hands on his hips and sighed. “You can start by getting these orders out.” He motioned out towards the noisy tables outside the kitchen. “Two bowls of beef stew and sake to the corner table; we actually have a fur trader in town today, he’ll be having the stew as well, he’s the one with the fuzzy hat. There.” He pointed out the window to a secluded table where the trader sat with a pint of ale.

Sera made a face as she picked up the warm bottle of sake from the pot of water it sat in on the stove. “Been a while since we served this stuff.”

“Out-of-towners.” Simon stated, “Asunese by the looks of em.”

She glanced out the window over the couple seated at the corner table. “Rangers?” She asked.

“Only reason for Asunese to be this far west.” Her father replied, drying a few freshly washed pitchers. “Not unheard of.”

Rangers, theirs was a life she did not envy. Runaways, banished, honor, or just the thrill, whatever the reason, a ranger’s purpose was simple; to hunt and kill Chimera. Small wonder as to why they were here, killing those foul creatures in the immediate vicinity of an occupied settlement was infinitely more appreciated than out in the wilderness where no one was there to know about it. A nearby town would give them a warm meal and meant a night not sleeping on the cold dirt.

“Still,” Sera thought out loud, “It's a long way from home.”

“That’s why we keep the damned stuff.” He smiled a kind smile, or his version of one, at least. “Gives them a small feeling of home.”

Sera smiled warmly behind her father’s back. He looked tough, but he really was a softie. “Mr. Salter here tonight?”

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me.” Simon rushed to the window. “Yep, Craig’s been here about half an hour. Looks like he’s about ready for his fourth ale, already.”

Sera joined him to assess the situation at the wall-side of the bench at table three. “He’s still got three-quarters of a mug left.”

They served the largest mugs in town.

“I know.” Simon said with a wink, “You’d better hurry.”