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Chapter 7 - Reunion with the Wolves

The roar of the gathered crowd was deafening as Kirtok scrambled to fill all his orders. He never imagined such a small town would support a thriving tavern, but between people traveling along the trade roads and the folks who owned farms in the nearby plots, business was steady. Perhaps more so than the Last Hill, which only seemed to serve the Ebonwolves.

Despite Kirtok's initial concerns that he might lose control of his temper, as he often had in Swifthaven, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his time in Mullead was relatively peaceful. Though the people gossiped, as humans were prone to doing, they were otherwise friendly and did not pry into others affairs. There was the occasional question from a patron about Kirtok's past or about his scar, but most simply saw him as a fixture in the inn. A fixture that drew deep from a keg of mead every time they asked for it, but a fixture none-the-less.

Kirtok knew that he'd picked the right job. The pay was steady, the food and the booze were good, and best of all, it was quiet. It felt like things were finally starting to begin again for him since leaving home. His days were relaxing, and helping Elsa with her stock and moving kegs around helped to keep him more fit than Conor's weights ever could have. In a few months, he hoped to be back to his original size from before the fire, and it would all be thanks to working at the Peaceful Pegasus.

Despite that, he had to admit that he was antsy to get back to the Last Hill to begin working on some higher paying jobs. He had to admit that being in Mullead was a nice break from the violence and bloodshed most of his regular jobs doled out, but the pay simply wasn't as good. It would take significantly longer to buy his land back if he continued to wait around for Elsa's payments every week. Though the pay was steady and consistent, Kirtok knew he could be earning coin far faster elsewhere, especially once he paid off his debts to Conor.

"Hey Kirtok!" called a bushy browed man from down the bar, "Another round over here!"

The minotaur turned the spigot on the keg, filling up another mug with Elsa's homemade mead, and swung around to deliver it to the man.

"Thanks!" he said, immediately taking a swig of the drink.

"Lars, don't you think you've had enough tonight?" Elsa cautioned as she passed by. "What would your sister think?"

"Bah, Fernanda is busy in the schoolhouse," Lars said, spittle flying from his mouth as he slurred his words. "She's not here to tell me what to do."

Elsa shook her head and approached Kirtok behind the counter. "He's cut off for the night," she whispered and gave him a pointed look. This was one of the few times Elsa put her foot down with regards to Kirtok's job, and the minotaur nodded in response. He wasn't about to argue with his boss.

"No problem," Kirtok replied, returning to his duty of washing out used cups and cleaning the counter top.

The crash of a table being flipped sounded amidst the clatter of coins hitting wood, snapping Kirtok to attention. A group of men were arguing over something in the corner of the room, and the other patrons were edging away from their dispute to remove themselves as much as possible from the conflict. Fists began to fly in short order, the sharp impact of each strike quickly bringing the crowd to silence.

Kirtok tossed his rag down and put aside the mug he'd been filling for another customer. Elsa poked her head out to see what was happening. He brushed past her and stomped over to where the two men had begun grappling with one another, each trying to land a hit on the other. The minotaur didn't care what kind of disagreement they were having, they both had to leave.

"Take it outside!" Kirtok bellowed as he snatched both men up by their shirts and dragged them towards the door. As the minotaur moved, the few people in his way scurried to the sides to prevent from obstructing his path.

The dainty jingle of the doorbell was drowned out by the indignant screams of the two men as Kirtok unceremoniously tossed them outside. He stood in the doorway, blocking access to the tavern with his massive body, and crossed his arms.

"If I catch either of you picking a fight in here again, I'll do more than throw you out on your asses," Kirtok yelled.

"You can't tell us what to do!" one man slurred, and the other was quick to agree with him, their spat momentarily forgotten as they faced their common enemy. "We'll go where we please!"

"I don't care," Kirtok said evenly, his frown deepening. "Beat it. I've got customers worth serving and you're pissing me off."

"You... you can't talk to us like that!" the second one said between hiccups. "Jus' wait 'til Elsa hears about this!"

"She hired me for specifically this reason." Kirtok took a step down towards them, and he felt heat building in his throat. "Are you going to question me again, or are you going to do the smart thing and leave?"

"There's one of you and two of us," the first man said. "We can fight you."

"Do yourselves a favor and leave," Kirtok said as the fires within him were stoked. "I won't ask you again."

"Let's get this overgrown cow!" the man replied, prompting his new ally to agree.

Kirtok stood with crossed arms up until they were about to strike him. That's when he sprung, his muscles uncoiling all at once as he reached out and grabbed the first man by his arm. Kirtok was still conscious of the fact that any harsh or sudden movements from him could result in broken bones or injuries he would later regret, so he forced himself to pull back his real strength. He only used as much force as was necessary.

The minotaur deflected the first blow, and tossed the man aside as gently as he could to avoid hurting him. He grabbed the second by his shirt collar with one hand and his pant legs with the other. With a heave, he tossed him on top of his friend.

"Get. Lost!" Kirtok shouted, accentuating his point as tongues of flames licked out from between his teeth.

Both men stared, terrified of the minotaur's power, before they scrambled to get up and ran shouting down the street.

Kirtok closed the door behind him as he stepped back inside. He paused, noticing that the room was markedly more quiet than before and everyone was staring in his direction. He wondered if perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds, and that his little display of strength had been too much. He didn't want to cost Elsa any of her business by scaring away prospective customers.

Before he could say or do anything though, the men around the bar began to cheer and whistle. A few patted him on the back as he walked by, congratulating him for dealing with the rabble-rousers without injuring them. A couple even offered him their drinks, but Kirtok turned them down.

By the time the minotaur returned behind the counter, Elsa was there to greet him with a satisfied smirk plastered on her face. Kirtok shrugged, acting as though it were another day on the job.

"And you were wondering why I hired you," she said, lightly smacking him on the arm with the back of her hand. "Carl and Joseph pick some of the dumbest fights when they come in together. It's nice to have someone in here to deal with them that isn't another customer."

"I was afraid of breaking something," Kirtok admitted in a low voice, hoping no one else could hear him. "The last thing I want to do is break a customer's arm. Or worse."

"For the number of times that they've broken something of mine or hurt someone who tried to simmer them down, I'd say they have it coming." She laughed.

The rest of the night was quiet as Kirtok worked to serve the dwindling crowds. He was feeling better about the altercation between Carl and Joseph. His parents had taught him to always be mindful of his strength, and they made a point to reinforce that every time he and Flynn would get into their childhood fights. Knowing that such lessons hadn't dulled with time made him feel better about the situation.

A couple hours later, the door bell jingled once more as someone new stepped into the room. The minotaur hadn't even looked up when he heard his name.

"Kirtok!" called someone from across the room, shouting over the din of the farmers talking. "Haven't seen you around the guild in a while."

Kirtok followed the sound of the voice and spotted two people wearing Ebonwolf gear. As they approached the bar, he recognized Doren and Cale from the Last Hill Inn.

What are they doing here? he thought, serving one last customer before turning to address them. His time in the Peaceful Pegasus made him appreciate the peace and civility of normal people. Looking back on his stay in Swifthaven, he noticed that although there were times he didn't mind being around Doren and the others, he found their aggressive behaviour to be tiring. Most of the guild was a tad more violent and sadistic than him.

Kirtok enjoyed a good brawl when trouble found him, but it seemed as if many of the Wolves loved to look for trouble instead of avoiding it. He was different from them in more ways than just his race, and he wondered if the others picked up on that from his time with them.

"Long time, no see," Kirtok said, donning a pretense of civility. "What brings you out here?"

Doren eased himself onto a stool, the plush upholstery giving way underneath him in silent protest. "Old man's got us on a job in Marlton."

Cale sat next to him, though Kirtok noted that he leaned to the side, away from Doren. "We were on our way there and decided to stop here for the night. Got any rooms open?"

Kirtok suppressed his frown, not wanting to show his displeasure at having his guildmates staying in the inn. Though he liked Doren, he wasn't very fond of the man's demeanor. He certainly didn't like Cale, though for what he couldn't pinpoint. He wasn't sure what about their presence put him on edge, but he decided not to let his guard down, none-the-less. Doren's behaviour could be crass at times, and he knew that if it came down to it, he might have to throw him out just like the drunks earlier.

And based on how Doren spoke to people trying to push him around, such an altercation could become bloody. Kirtok felt the heat in his chest being stoked preemptively, but he tried to clamp down on it before it made him any more uneasy.

"I'll check," he said, then shouted over his shoulder. "Hey Elsa, got any rooms left for the night?"

"One second!" The woman walked out of the back room a couple seconds later, carrying a tray of soup and some bread over to a table along the western wall. She spoke with her customers and made sure everything was in order before she wiped her hands off on her apron, picked up the tray, and walked back towards the bar. "Sorry about that. Are these two looking for rooms?"

"Yes ma'am. Do you have a room available?" Cale asked, surprising Kirtok with how polite he spoke. For an Ebonwolf, he was more well mannered around non-guild members than he'd seen from his other cohorts.

"Two rooms," Doren grunted uneasily, apparently unsatisfied with the idea of sharing rooms with Cale. He dug out a handful of copper and handed it off to Kirtok. A mug of mead appeared before him in seconds.

"I don't want to pay for two rooms," Cale protested, looking hurt by Doren's suggestion. Perhaps more hurt than he should have let on.

"Tough. Ya just don't have enough money for a room all to ya self," Doren replied.

Elsa waited patiently for the two men to come to an agreement as they bickered back and forth, but Kirtok could tell that this discussion wasn't going to go anywhere. They would end up fighting all night. Doren wasn't the kind of man who would relent after he'd decided on a course of action. Kirtok had seen that determination first hand when he was willing to take on a guard in the nude back in prison.

Kirtok cleared his throat with a deep rumble. "Can we hurry this up? I have a bar to run," he said while simultaneously acknowledging a couple people at a table across the room.

"Fine!" Doren relented. "We'll just take the one room."

While Elsa worked with the mercenaries to get them their room and take their money, Kirtok busied himself with serving his customers. He was only partially paying attention as he watched Cale and Doren back at the bar. He wondered what it was about them that bothered him.

Kirtok came to the conclusion that it was because he wasn't one of them. He did not seek out thrills, he did not seek out violence, and he did not want to cause trouble for most people. Maybe that was the Freehorn coursing through his veins. Maybe it was because he had spent all but the last couple months of his life as a farmer. He couldn't be sure, but something about his two guild mates made him feel uneasy.

The minotaur was never one for spirituality or faith, not especially in recent times. Yet at the same time, he felt there was some merit to it as he watched the two men. They seemed surrounded by something like an aura of malice. Kirtok conceded that he was in all likelihood just imagining it, but he couldn't shake the sickening feeling he got from being around the other mercenaries.

Cale was busy digging something out of his satchel. Figuring that it was probably some copper, Kirtok reached for a mug to pour him something.

"Did you have time for a game of Skirmish?" Cale asked, pulling out the thin wooden box that seemed to always be on his person, no matter where he went. He set the box down on the counter. "You're in too, right Doren?"

The man was picking at something between his teeth using a nail. "Only if Kirtok's in," he replied noncommittally.

"I have to mind the bar," Kirtok said as diplomatically as possible. He'd never once played a game with Cale, partly due to his lack of knowledge and skill, but mostly because he couldn't stand the man. Why did he always ask him to join when he always said no?

Before Cale could offer his defeated response, Elsa appeared and gently placed her hand on Kirtok's arm. "Go have fun. We'll be closing up soon anyways."

Cale grinned, flipping the lid of his box open to reveal the lovingly used cards that lay inside the fur-lined case. Two piles sat next to each other, and he reached for the larger one to set it aside before grabbing the smaller one.

"No Ptolemy," Kirtok said, referring to the God of Time card that existed in the deck. "I don't want to deal with one of you resetting the game should you start losing."

Doren laughed. "That's fine, but I'll be the one taking ya money from ya." He pointed to the cards in Cale's hands. "Go with the Prime rules."

Nodding, Cale picked through the cards until he found all the Primes, then laid them out across the counter so that the other two could see. Laren, Sytarel, Nova, Xenar, the four elemental Gods, the God of Death, and the Goddess of Life were all set out. He put the remaining cards back in their box, then took the entire deck and began shuffling them.

"Three silver a piece," Cale said, setting out three silver coins in front of him before he went back to dealing the cards.

Kirtok was surprised by Cale's less than safe bet. He would have thought the man would only play with coppers, but perhaps things changed since he'd left Swifthaven. A couple good jobs would have given the man money to throw around. He wasn't looking forward to potentially losing three silver himself, but he wasn't going to weasel his way out of their ante and look pathetic in front of his guild mates.

"So Kirtok," Cale started, setting the deck in the middle of the counter and grabbing his hand, "When are you planning on coming back to Swifthaven?"

"When the job's done, as always." Kirtok glanced at his cards, grabbed his Eight of Dragons and Six of Magi and set them face down on the table.

"And when's that?" Doren quipped, setting down two cards of his own. "The old man's wondering how much longer ya need here."

"Did he stop getting his money?" Kirtok asked.

"No. But ya know ya could be doing better than this place."

Kirtok grunted, noting the condescension in Doren's voice. He mulled over his response as he sorted his cards, finally settling on playing his Five of Cavalries against Cale's Seven of Archers. The other man grimaced almost imperceptibly. Kirtok smirked, realizing that the man was trying to not let on that his hand was bad.

"I like being here," Kirtok said finally, waiting for Doren to go through his turn. "Besides, I have no intention of leaving until I've trained my replacement."

"Oh? And when's that?" Doren sounded bored with Kirtok's insistence to stay.

The minotaur was about to say something, but then he realized he didn't know when he was going to be replaced. Now that he thought about it, he didn't recall ever seeing her speaking with anyone about the job. She seemed rather content to simply go about business as usual. Kirtok didn't have any intention of making this a permanent job, and he was wanting to return to the guildhouse to take on something worth more money at some point.

"Hmm?" Doren pushed, trying to get an answer out of him.

"I guess I don't know," Kirtok admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I never thought to ask."

"Why not?"

Kirtok shrugged again.

"For someone who was gung ho to join up, ya don't seem that bothered to be here," Doren remarked, playing his hand and letting Cale go. "Why did ya join the Ebonwolves anyways?"

As Cale finished his turn, Kirtok reached over and drew a card from the center stack. He added it to his hand and the splash of orange caught his eyes. It was one of the Prime Gods: Ignis, the Flames of Creation.

Frowning at Fate's choice of cards to give him, Kirtok said solemnly, "To get back what was taken from me."