A hush descended over the tavern as Winston began his tale. His voice was not particularly loud, but it was clear, and with the cooperation of his guests, he could even be heard by Louis who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“It was a frigid night, one of the coldest in living memory,” Winston began. “Not quite as cold as tonight, but for a boy raised in the south of Carthus, it felt like it was the end of the world.”

A few of the guests exchanged smirks and there were a few murmured comments about the softness of people from that kingdom as Winston paused to shiver for dramatic effect. “Anyway, there we were, five of us, each barely fourteen years old, out in the woods, learning to navigate,” the wiry man continued. “We were all still apprentices, you see, and my good friend Ethan had been entrusted with the map. He was the navigator, you see, so of course we were all hopelessly lost.”

The guests chuckled as they sipped their drinks. Ethan was a staple of Winston’s stories and a crowd favourite. However, if anyone who had achieved half the feats Winston claimed this Ethan had would have his name known from Gosport to Darros, so the boy chalked up Winston’s stories to being tall tales.

“Now, this was meant to be a three hour trip across the wilderness, not the day and a half ordeal it became. We had little in the way of food,” he continued. “So there we were, in the middle of the woods where it was pitch black, absolutely starving, and having no idea where the closest civilization was, when what do we hear?”

Louis jumped as Winston howled. The howl was shrill and piercing and bore an uncanny resemblance to a wolf’s. Just then, the breeze carried the smell from the kitchen into the boy’s nostrils, and his stomach turned.

“Yes, wolves were tracking us!” Winston exclaimed.

“This was just after the Betrayal, you see, and Carthun refugees had hunted the woods thoroughly,” Winston continued. “So, the wolves were even hungrier than we were. They weren’t frightened of our steel, or our fire. No, pure ravenous hunger drove them to attack the only prey they could find. Us.”

Winston paused to take a long sip of water. The room was so silent that you could hear a pin drop as the guests hung onto every word.

“But hunger didn’t make the wolves any less cunning, oh no,” Winston waved a finger in front of his face as he spoke, “They had us surrounded from all sides! We began to despair! Oh, what fate awaited our lost, cold, and hungry heroes?”

Winston pretended to swoon theatrically, drawing a few amused chuckles. Louis rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how the typically prim and proper landlord could debase himself in such a way, but he did have to admit it kept the punters entertained.

“No!” Winston exclaimed suddenly, “No, cried Ethan as he lifted his sword high into the air to inspire his fellows, this is not the night we end up in the belly of a wolf! Fight! Fight for your lives!”

Winston paused to wipe away a tear, as though still touched by the rallying speech even after so many years. “What turned the battle in our favour was Ethan’s defeat of their pack leader,” Winston said, his voice turned low and ominous, “It was the biggest wolf I’d ever seen, almost as tall as a man at the shoulder, but Ethan was undeterred. He fought it with his sword in one hand and a flaming branch in the other. Every time it snapped with its jaws; he would strike with the branch. Then, when the Alpha could take it no more, it lunged at him, impaling himself on Ethan’s sword.”

Winston took a deep, contented breath. “With the leader defeated, Ethan did not rest on his laurels, no. He waded to the fore and fought the beasts like with a fury that would have pleased Archavon Himself. We fought for what felt like hours, they came at us with tooth and claw, we answered with steel, and when steel failed, we bit, and we scratched as well. Five of us against a pack of twenty ravenous wolves in the dark and cold. By the time the sun began to creep over the mountains to the east, we were victorious.”

Winston paused, as a look of contentment spread across his face, and the guests began to murmur amongst themselves. “But that’s not the end of my tale,” Winston said with a twinkle in his eye, “No, I should remind you that though victorious, we were still exhausted, cold, lost, and starving.”

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“Are you telling us you ate the wolves?” Calvin, the huge North Man who stood over eight feet tall, asked with a look of distaste on his face.

“We did!” Winston said with a sly smile, “But let me tell you, that morning, we stumbled upon a secret.”

He disappeared under his counter momentarily and reappeared with a long, green fruit that resembled a melon. “This is the fruit of a Demastic tree.”

“I’ve heard they use it to remove stains from linens over in Carthus,” Greg remarked. The old brewer was a wiry man who was missing most of his teeth and had only one good eye.

“Yes, that is true,” Winston grinned, “It tastes rather repulsive on its own, but someone brought some along because it happened our turn to do the laundry. Ethan had heard a rumour that the fruit tenderised meat.”

“So, we cut up the meat from the leader,” Winston continued as some of the guests turned a shade of green, “added the fruit, and wouldn’t you know, the flavours mixed perfectly, and ordinarily stringy meat was fall off the bone tender… And there were plenty of bones. These wolves were starving, remember.”

Winston leaned back on the bar and rubbed his belly contentedly before sighing, “Ah, perhaps it was because we were so cold and hungry, and the battle was so hard fought, but I swear to you gentlemen, and may the Goddess burn my inn to the ground if a word of this is a lie, but it was the best meal I have ever had. It warmed us up and gave us the energy to survive the lashings and four further days without food that we were punished with for getting lost.”

The landlord fell silent, and Louis wiped a thread of drool away from his mouth. He could see that a few of the guests were salivating as well. Abruptly, Winston clapped his hands. “It so happens that I have recreated that very recipe for you, my friends, tonight. I have made a few improvements to it, as I have more ingredients at my disposal than we did that night, and I cannot wait to share it with you, my friends.”

He paused and smiled broadly, “So, who’s hungry?”

To Louis’ surprise, hands shot up around the room, and he hurriedly counted thirty two of them. “Louis, could you see to it that our friends are served, please?”

“At once, Mister Weaver!” Louis sang before disappearing into the kitchen, and the boy couldn’t help but shake his head at what a good salesman his boss was. He soon reappeared with six steaming bowls on a platter and began serving the guests.

“I thought I saw old Franklin hauling a wolf’s carcass through town,” Robert remarked, “So, you bought if off him, did you?”

“Yes, it was quite the specimen, and it reminded me of that faithful night,” Winston replied, now back to his soft-spoken self. He was standing next to the table Robert was sharing with Greg and wore a polite smile on his face. It sometimes felt to Louis like he was putting on an act, as though he didn’t actually care for making small talk with guests, but he’d always dismissed that as his own imagination. Why open an inn if you didn’t care to talk to people?

“He’s fallen on hard times, hasn’t he? Not much game out there lately,” Greg observed before draining his glass.

“This winter has been harsher than usual,” Winston conceded. “But I bought the creature because I wanted to eat some wolf meat, not out of charity.”

He paused as Greg set his empty glass back on the table. “May I fetch you another?”

“That would be lovely,” the brewer smiled.

Soon, all the guests were served their meals. Some asked for seconds. The four North Men had thirds and fourths. The conversation was merry, and Winston watched it all, looking very content from behind the bar. Occasionally, he would come out to engage in small talk with guests who sought his company while Louis ran the empty dishes to the kitchen and cleaned them when he had the time. It was a warm atmosphere, something Louis had not experienced since his parents died. Yes, it was fortunate that he ended up working here.

Time seemed to fly by, and when Winston rang the bell for last call, Louis thought it had come a little early until he looked at the clock. Midnight. The guests in this small remote town were well behaved. They finished their drinks quickly and took their leave so that Winston and Louis could clean up.

Louis stopped mopping the floor briefly and let off a broad yawn. Today had been a busy day. Business was good. A little too good for just the two of them to handle.

“Good work today, Louis,” Winston said as he polished glasses from behind the bar, “Why don’t you go to bed? I can finish up here.”

“Oh no Mister Weaver, I’m fine,” Louis protested. He had only just started on the floor, and there was still plenty of work to be done behind the bar and in the kitchen.

“Nonsense, a young many needs his rest,” Winston tutted as he came out from behind the bar.

“Go on, off with you,” he said gently as he took the mop out of Louis’ hands.

“Well, if you insist,” Louis said tiredly, not needing much convincing. He was let off another broad yawn as he walked through the kitchen and into his room. It was small and modestly furnished with just a bed and a cupboard, but it was warm and plenty for a young orphan like him. He didn’t even bother changing into his night clothes before falling into his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.