Page 27 of Realms of Swords and Storms
The familiar scent of stale ale and wood smoke greeted me as Tarshi and I entered The Crow's Coin. After several visits, I'd grown accustomed to the tavern's atmosphere—the dim lighting designed to hide patrons' faces, the strategic placement of tables to allow for quick exits, the careful eyes of the barkeeper who remembered every face that crossed his threshold.
"Busier than usual tonight," I observed, keeping my voice low despite the ambient noise.
Tarshi nodded, scanning the room with practiced vigilance. "The Emperor's latest proclamation has people scared. More are seeking answers—or allies."
Two weeks had passed since the Emperor had announced stricter registration requirements for citizens with Talfen heritage, including mandatory examinations to determine the "degree of contamination." Anyone with more than a quarter Talfen blood would be relocated to designated districts—glorified ghettos, in truth. Those who resisted would face imprisonment or worse.
We'd barely taken two steps into the tavern when a familiar voice called out over the din.
"Livia? Tarshi?"
I turned, surprised to see Marcus seated at a table near the wall, a mug of ale in his hand. His eyebrows were raised in obvious shock at our appearance.
"Marcus?" I made my way to his table, Tarshi following close behind. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he replied, his gaze moving between us with growing suspicion. "This isn't exactly academy territory."
"We needed a break from Imperial pomposity," Tarshi said smoothly. "What's your excuse?"
Before Marcus could answer, a large figure emerged from behind the bar—a barrel-chested man with a thick, grey-streaked beard and arms like tree trunks. He slammed down a fresh mug of ale in front of Marcus with enough force to slosh some over the sides.
"Your ale's getting weak, Marcus. Need to build your tolerance if you're going to drink with real men," the newcomer boomed, his voice carrying despite the tavern's noise.
My heart leapt with recognition. "Antonius?"
The big man turned, his weathered face breaking into a broad grin beneath his bushy beard. "Little Livia! By the gods, is that really you?"
I stood to embrace him, finding myself engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that smelled of ale and wood smoke. After the Talfen attack on Veredus and the destruction of the arena, I'd assumed he'd perished with the others.
"We thought you were dead," I said as he finally released me, my voice thick with emotion.
"Been moving ever since. Ended up here last month, convinced Garus to give me work."
"He's the new assistant barkeeper," Marcus explained. "Found me last week—nearly fell over when he recognized me hauling pig carcasses in the street. I was going to tell you all when we met up next. Though I'm still curious what brings you two here, of all places."
I exchanged a glance with Tarshi, a silent question passing between us. How much should we reveal?
Before we could decide, the tavern door opened again, admitting a group of people who immediately caught Tarshi's attention. He nodded subtly toward them—a mix of humans and half-Talfen moving with purpose toward the back of the tavern.
Marcus's eyes narrowed as he followed Tarshi's gaze. "You're not just here for the ale, are you?" he asked quietly. "Those people... they're heading to the back room."
"Yes," I admitted, seeing no point in deception. "We've been attending meetings."
"What kind of meetings?" His voice had dropped even lower, tension evident in his posture.
"The kind that question Imperial authority," Tarshi replied bluntly. "The kind that seek truth behind Imperial propaganda."
Marcus's expression darkened. "You've brought Livia to resistance gatherings? Are you mad? Do you know the penalty for treason?"
"I wanted to come," I interjected before Tarshi could respond. "It was my choice, Marcus. And it's not the first time."
"Not the first—" He broke off, visibly struggling for control. "How long has this been going on?"
"A few weeks," I said. "Tarshi's been coming longer. He's earned their trust, become part of their inner circle."
"And you didn't think to tell me?" There was hurt beneath his anger.
"I was going to, when the time was right," I explained. "It's not exactly something to discuss in passing."
