Chapter 60: Arrival in Brenhold

The sky darkened as they approached Brenhold’s towering stone gates, the last glimmers of sunset fading behind the city walls. Torches flickered along the battlements, illuminating the cold iron portcullis that loomed above them.

Two gate guards, clad in thick gambeson and chainmail, stood ready. One of them held up a lantern, the glow casting long shadows on the cobbled road.

"Hold there!" The first guard, a stocky man with a gruff voice, stepped forward. "State your business."

Bennett, already half out of his saddle, waved lazily. "Just a merchant, back home with my new guards."

The other guard, a leaner man, was eyeing Dorian’s sling bag with intense curiosity. "What kind of bag is that?" he asked, stepping closer.

Dorian blinked. "Uh… my bag?"

The guard nodded. "Saw you pull a whole violin out of that thing back on the road. Some kind of mage’s trinket?"

Dorian grinned, patting the bag. "Oh, this? Just a simple spatial bag—a generous gift from Viscount Halrik himself, actually."

The guards exchanged glances, clearly impressed. "Viscount Halrik gave you that?"

"Sure did," Dorian smirked, clearly enjoying the attention.

Tache let out a loud yawn, stretching in his saddle. "Ahhh, yes, this is all very fascinating, but can we maybe, I don’t know, go inside before I freeze to death out here?"

Selyse smirked. "Oh? The mighty Tache of the Silver Wolves afraid of a little chill?"

Dorian, ever the opportunist, mock laughed alongside her. "Hah! Perhaps we should fetch a nice, warm blanket for our fearless leader?"

Tache rolled his eyes. "You know what? I take it back. I’m leaving you outside the gates."

Bennett snorted, then turned to the guards. "So? We good?"

The first guard, still eyeing the mystical bag with some level of awe, gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah, you’re clear. Welcome to Brenhold."

With a creak, the portcullis lifted, and they entered the city.

The streets of Brenhold were alive even at night, glowing with the soft golden light of lanterns and hearthfires. Despite the cold, the city bustled—markets still ran in small corners, and blacksmiths hammered away on urgent orders.

Bennett led them down a winding street, where the scent of baked bread and roasted meat filled the air.

"Here we are," he said, pulling his horse to a stop in front of a three-story inn, its wooden sign creaking in the wind.

The sign read:
The Stubborn Mule

"Wait—this is yours?" Selyse raised an eyebrow.

Bennett grinned proudly. "One of my branches, yes. Best beds in Brenhold, I might add."

"Impressive," Tache admitted, rubbing his chin. "You run a good business."

"Comfortable and well-stocked with ale," Bennett added with a wink.

Selyse dismounted first, rolling her shoulders. "That’s all I needed to hear. Let’s get inside."

As soon as they stepped in, the inn’s warmth wrapped around them like a welcoming embrace. The hearth blazed in the center of the common room, filling the space with a pleasant glow. The scent of stew and fresh bread filled the air.

Bennett led them to the counter, exchanging nods with the bustling innkeeper, a grizzled older Halfling woman who barely looked up from polishing a mug.

"Rooms?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Four," Bennett said.

And that’s when it started.

"Hold on," Tache said, frowning. "There’s five of us."

"Yeah," Bennett said, "but you three are hired guards, which means you share. You can sort out the arrangements yourselves."

Tache, Selyse, and Dorian immediately exchanged looks.

"You know what? I call dibs on my own room," Dorian declared.

"Like hell," Selyse shot back. "You can bunk with Tache."

"Oh no, no, no," Tache crossed his arms. "I lead the company, I get my own space."

Ralnor, sitting quietly this whole time, finally spoke. "I will take the smallest room."

Dorian gawked. "That’s not how this works!"

Bennett, watching the growing argument with amusement, leaned toward Ralnor and asked, "Are they always like this?"

Ralnor, unphased, took a sip of the ale he somehow already had in hand.

"Usually only Selyse and Tache," he said. "But our lost puppy has become an addition."

Bennett, rubbing his face, muttered, "I already regret hiring you lot."

Ralnor simply nodded, dead serious. "You don’t know half of it."

As the bickering continued, Bennett grabbed his own ale and sighed. "This is gonna be a long contract…"

And thus, the great room debate raged on.

…

The morning sun filtered through the wooden shutters, casting soft golden light across the modest room. The air inside still held the lingering warmth of the hearth below, but outside, the crisp northern chill had settled into the streets of Brenhold.

Dorian stirred first, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He turned over and was immediately met with the sight of Tache sprawled out on his back, snoring lightly, his arm hanging off the bed in a lazy slump. The very picture of a man who had lost a battle of negotiations and had to share a room.

Dorian let out a content sigh, stretched his arms, and—

ZAP.

A small crackle of electricity surged through his body, jolting him fully awake.

From the other bed, Tache groaned loudly, pulling a pillow over his face. "By the gods, bard—can you not summon a storm first thing in the morning?"

Dorian grinned, already sitting up and shaking out his now slightly frizzled hair. "Gotta start the day right, my friend."

Tache peeked one eye out from under the pillow. "Your right is my wrong. You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw my boot at you."

Dorian stood, stretching his back. "You can take it out on me later. I’m using the bath first."

Tache waved a lazy hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"

Wait.

Tache sat up so fast his bed creaked. "Hold on. No, no, no. I bathe first. You take forever!"

Dorian was already grabbing his towel and heading for the door. "You snooze, you lose, fearless leader!"

Tache threw his pillow across the room, but Dorian was already out the door, cackling.

Meanwhile, in the inn’s common room, Bennett was already going over documents at a table near the hearth. Across from him sat Selyse, arms crossed, her usual smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Ralnor, in stark contrast, sat at the other end of the table, eating his breakfast in complete peace, unfazed by the world around him.

The distant shouting and thudding footsteps from upstairs caught Bennett’s attention. He raised an eyebrow. "Are… they alright?"

Selyse, not even bothering to turn around, chuckled. "They’re fine, Mister Bennett. That’s just what happens when Tache realizes he lost the morning bath race."

Another loud thud sounded from the ceiling above.

Bennett took a slow sip of his coffee, nodding. "Uh-huh. And I’ve hired you people to guard me."

Selyse gave him an easy smile. "You made an excellent choice."

Ralnor just kept eating, enjoying his breakfast in blissful silence.