Chương 31

Just as Hannah promised, The Winter's Debt pulled into Braemont's harbour after the sun had set and the moon had risen. As they moored the boat, Noah braced himself to say goodbye to their half‑Fae trader captain. He rehearsed the words in his head again and again—only to stop short when she hopped onto the dock beside them after helping haul their bags off the boat.

"I feel like getting a drink," she announced.

"Care to join me? The Crimson Wyvern won't be open until daybreak anyway, and there's a tavern with rooms for rent around the corner."

"Shouldn't one of us stay with the boat?" Noah asked. She shrugged with a grin.

"I'll pay the dockmaster to post a guard." Ken raised an eyebrow.

"I've never known you to trust someone else with that responsibility."

"It's not about trust, it's about coin," she said cheerfully.

"And we're flush with it now!" Relieved they wouldn't have to part ways just yet, Noah grinned, shrugged at the two Fae, and followed her down the dock.

"I guess we're getting a drink, then." Thankfully for all three of them, Braemont seemed both more hospitable and far quieter than Tarn's Reach. Crowds bustled despite the late hour, voices overlapping as people moved through the extra‑wide streets near the docks. On both sides, long, low warehouses stretched in neat rows from the waterfront deep into the city. Ahead, small booths and tables crowded the intersections, merchants hawking every kind of good Noah could imagine.

Remember what Sable taught you, he reminded himself, pulling his hood up to hide his pale complexion as Ciri and Ken did the same. While Hannah stopped at a booth to pay the dockmaster, a scuffle broke out nearby. Noah's hand went instinctively to his crossbow—only for several brown‑coated guards to rush in, breaking up the fight and hauling the combatants away as they shouted in different languages. His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing.

"Ciri," Noah murmured, still watching.

"Why would those men attack a Fae woman?"

"I believe those men are from Ferrum Vale," she replied.

"Ah. How do you know?"

"The combination of blonde hair and fair skin is rare in Therondale, but not in Ferrum Vale." Noah watched the scene a moment longer. Judging by their positions and the way the guards dragged them, the four men had tried to ambush the woman. They all wore simple black shirts, black pants, and black leather boots, still shouting unfamiliar words as more guards arrived. When they were out of earshot, Noah's gaze drifted back to the Fae woman.

Cuts and bloodstains marked her white silk trousers and orange vest—she might have died if not for the spells she was now casting to heal herself. When she finished, she inspected her wounds, shook her head sadly, and walked toward a nearby stall.

"They were also speaking Northern—the language of Ferrum Vale," Ciri added.

"And if that wasn't enough of a giveaway, they weren't wearing coats," Ken said, tugging his own lapels closed.

"I don't follow."

"Ferrum Vale is in the North," the elderly Fae reminded him.

"They claim the cold here doesn't bother them, given the climate they were raised in." So… Canadians. But without the whole 'friendly' thing, Noah thought with a grin.

"Yeah, we've got those back where I'm from too."

"Therondale should close the borders to them altogether," Hannah said as she rejoined them.

"That may happen soon," Ken replied as they continued down the street.

"I hope so. Places like this would be a lot safer if they weren't allowed here." A dray beast pulling a cart brushed past them before Noah spoke again.

"If they're so dangerous, why haven't the King and Queen closed the borders already?"

"Because they're not dangerous to humans," Hannah explained.

"At least not outwardly. They think they're better than Therondalians, but they're not looking to kill you." She shook her head.

"But idiots like that picking a fight with a Summer Fae? One day they'll pick a fight with a battle‑trained conduit, and she'll turn them to ash." Therondalians, Noah noted.

"Wait—how did you know she was Summer Fae?"

"Red hair," all three answered at once.

"Really?"

"Summer Fae tend to have red, orange, or yellow hair," Ciri said.

"Or combinations thereof. They also tend to have darker complexions." Noah looked at Hannah.

"Let me guess: Winter Fae have blue or white hair?"

"Or silver. And we're usually fairer‑skinned," Hannah added before turning to Ciri.

"Didn't you teach him this?"

"I did not believe it was pertinent."

"Looks like I've got to do some educating, then." Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Wild Fae can run the whole spectrum—hair and skin both. But their hair is usually vibrant. Green, purple, brown—""Pink?" Noah interjected.

"Yeah." Hannah nodded.

"There, see? Now you're educated."

"Hang on. That woman could've been Wild Fae then."

"Not dressed like that. Wild Fae don't usually wear silk."

"How could you tell it was silk from all the way back there?"

"I'm a trader, remember? I've got an eye for these things." As they walked, Noah took in the city. A human man and a Summer Fae woman haggled over a pearl necklace, switching between Common and Fae. A pair knelt beside a carriage, fixing an axle while a well‑dressed woman waited impatiently. The air smelled of ocean salt, timber, and sweat.

"Better than Tarn's Reach?" Ken asked with a grin.

"Yeah. A lot better. Not having all that factory noise is nice." Noah smiled.

"And I've seen more Fae here in five minutes than Tarn's Reach sees in a year."

"They're there," Hannah countered.

"But here, people don't hide it."

"Why is that?"

"Braemont is a trading city," she said.

"Goods from the northern half of the country get shipped here, then taken by cart to Crownspire—and vice versa." This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Therondalians have a saying: Tarn's Reach makes, Braemont moves," Ken added.

"And Crownspire meddles," Hannah finished. Noah narrowed his eyes, trying to recall the map of Tenebrae.

"Wouldn't it be easier to sail farther south, past the tip of the continent, then back north to Crownspire?"

"And risk the Sea of Mists?" Hannah raised an eyebrow.

"Between the monsters and the Summer Fae patrols, it's safer to go over land."

"The Sea of Mists does not extend that far south," Ciri countered.

"And unless you are carrying contraband, the Summer Fae navy will allow passage."

"Says you," Hannah shot back.

"I know what the map says, but I've sailed long enough to know the truth." Sensing an argument brewing, Noah cut in.

"That explains the diversity. Nobody's really from here."

"It's a place to stop, do business, and leave," Hannah agreed.

"Take out the merchants and travelers and the city would be a third the size of Tarn's Reach." She held up a hand.

"Speaking of stopping and visiting—we're here." Noah looked up at the stone‑walled tavern. A dirty sign hung over the door with a picture of a foaming mug and nothing else. The steel‑banded wooden door was propped open with a rock, letting warm orange light and music spill into the street.

"I know it's not much to look at, but the ale's cheap, the food's good, and you won't get stabbed," Hannah said, noting the looks on Ciri's and Ken's faces beneath their hoods.

"Works for me," Noah said.

"Let's go." They entered as a group, finding a booth in the corner. Noah scanned the room, fingers drumming on the table as he watched patrons eat, drink, and dance to the band in the corner—a Fae singer, a human guitarist, and a human man on bongos. A fireplace crackled merrily halfway down the wall, filling the room with heat. Dim magical lights twinkled overhead, partially illuminating the wooden tables and chair arranged haphazardly across the stone floor.

The room was completed by a surprisingly familiar-looking bar in the corner opposite the band, complete with brass tabs and bottles on a shelf behind it. I guess some things really are universal.

"Ale?" a busty human waitress in a white dress asked as she passed.

"Four. And firewater," Hannah called back. She returned with four enormous mugs of frothing ale and four small glasses of red liquid. After taking their orders, she left, and Noah grabbed an ale, took a sip, and winced.

"I thought you said the ale was good here?" Hannah laughed and took a sip of her own.

"I said the ale is cheap. The food's good." Rolling his eyes, Noah passed the other glasses to Ciri and Ken. Ciri took one sip and immediately spat it back into her mug. Ken shrugged, downed half his ale in one go, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and grunted. Ciri not liking alcohol, sure. Ken being a heavyweight? Didn't see that coming.

"So," Hannah said, setting her mug down and fixing Noah with a look.

"About that weapon of yours."

"The crossbow?"

"Yeah. It's pretty good."

"Thanks. It's my own design."

"I want one. How much will it cost me?"

"I can't."

"Come on. What do I have to do to oil the joint a little?" She asked, batting her eyes at him. He hesitated.

"I…can't give you mine. I still need it." She deflated slightly.

"You don't have extras?"

"Ciri's got one too, but she needs it." He paused as another thought struck him.

"But we built a few prototypes before this. They're bigger and have better range. Not as portable or easy to aim as mine, but you could mount one on The Winter's Debt and fire from the railing." She shook her head.

"That won't work. I can't fire and steer at the same time. Besides, I wanted something I can take ashore." Noah nodded.

"I get it. Bryn has the designs. You could ask her to make one." Hannah made a face at the mention of the Fae artificer.

"I don't think Bryn's going to be thrilled about that." He chuckled, remembering their last argument.

"Okay, fine. I'll talk to Bryn and ask her myself."

"I'd appreciate that. So—how much?" Knowing exactly how she'd interpret it, Noah smiled.

"No charge. Consider it a gift." She looked at Ciri.

"You didn't teach him about gifts? What did you teach him—""I taught him," Ciri interrupted, her golden eyes meeting Hannah's sharp blue-grey ones.

"He understands the significance."

"I…oh." Hannah glanced between them. The three of them exchanged a silent, layered conversation with their eyes. Hannah looked to Noah first; he raised an eyebrow conspiratorially and took a long drink. Then she looked to Ciri, who nodded with a faint smile.

"I see," Hannah said at last. She reached for the glass of red liquid and downed it in one shot.

"Well, in that case, I accept your gift." She set the glass down with a thud. Grinning, Noah mirrored her. The fiery drink burned his throat, and he coughed, eyes watering. Hannah laughed and nudged his ale toward him.

"It's an acquired taste. Here—drink your ale. It helps." Noah took another long sip before setting it down.

"No wonder that guard couldn't see when I threw that stuff in his face."

"You did what?" Ken asked, eyes wide. Noah recounted the fight. When he finished, Ciri tilted her head thoughtfully.

"That may be an effective weapon against conduits."

"What do you mean?"

"It is difficult for a conduit to cast if they cannot see. It disrupts concentration and makes targeting impossible."

"I can't exactly carry a drink around."

"Perhaps not," Ciri said, "but firevine is often ground into a powder. It can be thrown at close range." Hannah shook her head.

"That's a good way to get firevine powder in your own eyes."

"It's…not a bad idea," Noah said, stroking his chin.

"We've got something similar where I'm from—pepper spray. The delivery system is complicated, though. Pressurized canisters, aerosolization… I'd have to reinvent a dozen technologies." He paused.

"But maybe there's a simpler workaround." Hannah watched him with a grin.

"I don't know what any of that means, but when you're thinking hard like that…you're not bad‑looking. For a human." Noah blinked.

"I think that was almost a compliment."

"Almost." Chuckling, Noah finished his ale. Hannah did the same, and Ken followed a moment later. The waitress returned with their food, and they dug in eagerly. For several minutes, the only sounds were satisfied sighs and utensils scraping plates. Noah leaned back after finishing a pastry filled with mushrooms, sauce, and a meat that definitely wasn't tunnel rat. Hannah finished shortly after and ordered another round. Conversation flowed easily—stories, jokes, and the warm haze of drink carrying them along.

Hours later, the tavern began to empty. Ken eventually declared he'd had enough and wandered off to pay for their rooms. Ciri left half an hour later, wanting a full night's sleep before the carriage ride. When the music stopped and the tavern was nearly empty, Noah leaned toward Hannah.

"So."

"So." He glanced around, lowering his voice despite the alcohol.

"I have a question."

"Go ahead," she said, slurring slightly.

"What sort of trouble are you really in, Hannah?"

"What's it to you?"

"In case you didn't notice, I'm into you," he said boldly.

"But I also think you're trouble."

"I am trouble." She grinned.

"Not the fun kind," he said, smiling despite himself.

"The kind that gets me, Ciri, or Ken hurt."

"Maybe." She drew the word out, batting her eyelashes. Noah leaned in.

"Who is Magnus?" Her expression soured instantly.

"A miserable, arrogant—" She cut herself off with a frustrated noise.

"Yeah, yeah," Noah said.

"I'm sure he's all of that. I mean—who is he to you?" Hannah studied him for a long moment.

"He's…a rich man. In Crownspire."

"And you and him…" Noah raised an eyebrow. Her eyes widened.

"What? No. Nothing like that. Why would you think that?"

"I overheard his name when you were…on the ship," he said, carefully avoiding the memory.

"He sent the pirates after you." Hannah inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

"Years ago, I borrowed gold from him. I used it to buy The Winter's Debt." She hiccupped.

"It came with conditions I didn't think through."

"Such as?" She checked that no one was listening.

"Not all his gold comes from legitimate sources. Sometimes he needs someone to…move things." A smuggler, Noah realized.

"Okay," he said.

"The last time I saw him, he asked me to move something." She swayed slightly.

"Some one."

"Some one?"

"Yes."

"Like a passenger?"

"That would imply they were willing." Noah's eyes widened.

"Ah. What did you say?"

"I said no. He was…unhappy. Things escalated. I left with my ship—a ship he thinks belongs to him, since his gold paid for it." Her voice sharpened.

"Even though I've paid him back three times over."

"And he doesn't take rejection well."

"No. He does not." She sighed.

"I wouldn't have taken his money to begin with, but…well, people in Therondale tolerate half‑Fae, but they're not exactly lining up to give us gold." Noah absorbed that.

"I knew there was a good person in there, Hannah."

"You…what?" she asked, hiccuping again.

"You're a good person," he repeated.

"You did the right thing. It sucks that it's caused you so much pain, but…it makes you even more admirable." He hesitated, then let the words out.

"I like you. And if I can help with this…situation, just tell me."

"Get me that crossbow and a bolt," she said with a grin.

"Just one. That's all I'll need."

"You'd better not miss," he said, gently tucking a strand of blue‑white hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I won't." She leaned closer, her voice softening.

"Are you sure you want this, though? You said it yourself." Another hiccup.

"I'm trouble."

"Yeah. I'm sure." He nodded.

"Just…let's not do everything tonight? I'd rather not go too far for the first time when we're this many drinks in. Otherwise it feels like I'm taking advantage of you."

"You're far too good for this world," she murmured, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. He met her kiss softly, his hand sliding to her hip. She wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer as they kissed slowly, letting the noise of the tavern fade around them.