I groaned as sunlight stabbed through the crack in my curtains. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, though not as badly as after that night at the dwarven tavern. The memory of that hangover still made me wince.

  A thunderous banging rattled on outside door. The same sound had just invaded my dreams, where a massive troll had pounded on a giant steel-reinforced wooden door. I rolled out of bed, stumbled to the window, and yanked the curtains apart.

  "What!?" I shouted down.

  Roland Hightown looked up and waved. He stood there in his well-worn blue coat with tarnished gold buttons, a slightly wrinkled white shirt, and dust-covered boots. His hair looked hastily combed, and he carried a weathered leather satchel bulging with papers.

  "Good morning!" he called up.

  "Hi, Roland. I'll be right down," I muttered, my irritation fading at the sight of the cheerful steward.

  I grabbed the water pitcher from my nightstand and gulped down a full mug. Water dribbled down my chin onto my bare chest. I wiped it away, threw on a pair of brown trousers and a simple linen shirt, then jammed my feet into my shoes without bothering with socks.

  The smell of woodsmoke greeted me as I descended the stairs. Lady Churl had already stoked the stove's fire. I spotted a pot of water on the stovetop through the kitchen doorway, but it was not yet boiling. I shuffled past and opened the back door.

  "Come on in," I said, my voice still rough with sleep.

  Roland entered the tavern and glanced around."My sincere apologies for the early hour," Roland said, bowing slightly. "But these documents require your immediate attention and simply cannot wait." He studied me from head to toe, his nose wrinkling slightly at my disheveled appearance.

  "What?" I asked, running a hand through my tangled hair, and chuckled. "It was a full house at the tavern last night."

  "Aye. Looks it. I understand there was some trouble with the staff for a day or two, ah, er, Lord Commander."

  I reached out and placed a hand on Roland's shoulder. "Please don't call me that. I'm begging you."

  "I see. Yes. I see…" Roland trailed off, obviously trying to find words. "Eh. One of these documents concerns your new duties in Everspring and the surrounding area." Roland patted his satchel. "Do you know what being a Lord Commander entails?"

  "I do not," I admitted.

  "It is a high honor for a, well…"

  "An every man?" I prompted.

  Roland cocked his head to the side. "Yes. That is an apt phrase, friend Varix."

  I rubbed my temples. "Would you like some coffee, Roland?"

  He hesitated, shuffled papers around, and said, "I'm not much of a coffee drinker and prefer tea, but this seems like a morning that might require extra energy."

  "Tell me about it."

  I excused myself and went into the kitchen to check the water. It was at a low simmer instead of a full boil, which was close enough.

  I prepped a couple of mugs and returned to the table. Roland gratefully accepted his and took a tentative sip. "Excellent."

  "Thank you. Oh, do you like cream and sugar?"

  "In this?" Roland peered into his mug.

  "Yep."

  "I suppose it's worth a try."

  "You'll like it," I told him. I went to the cooler, pulled out a jar of cream, and scooped up a bowl of sugar and a spoon on the way back. Morth, the cat, darted across the kitchen, claws scrambling as he chased a rodent. The pair of them disappeared between two cupboards.

  "Good luck," I muttered.

  I returned to the table and dropped off the cream and sugar. Roland tried a little of each, sipped his coffee, and sighed contentedly. "I very much enjoy this." He drank a few more sips and then said, "We were discussing your new title."

  I blew out another long sigh. "We were. I'm flying back to the capital shortly, and I must be honest, I plan to ask the king to rescind the title. I want to be a humble tavern owner. I don't want this new layer of responsibility. It's too much."

  Roland's shoulders sank. His eyes met mine. "Friend, Varix. Few can claim to do half so much as you, and in a short amount of time. Everspring is about to grow even larger, and I can think of no one better suited to the task. Baron Swiftwood has done well enough until a few months ago. He, er…"

  "You're aware of my issues with the Baron, but I've since gained clarity on what drove his actions. He and I have made peace, and I suspect the baron will soon be ready to resume his duties. You see, Bertram Swiftwood is a very proud man. I won't break his confidence, but I assure you he is going through something and I intend to help him as best I can."

  Roland considered my words before saying, "You have always exhibited great empathy for others, you're a problem solver, and here you are helping the man who tried to run you out of business. I can't think of any better qualities in a new Lord Commander."

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I don't want it. I don't want to command anything."

  "It's more an honorific, unless we again go to war. However, I do not see that in the immediate future. There will be duties, to be sure."

  "Meetings? I hate meetings. I have a tavern to run."

  "Taverns," Roland corrected, pulling out a thick sheaf of papers. "I have the purchase documents for The Wandering Boar right here. And yes, there are gatherings to discuss the state of the realm. You will need to attend several per year in Crownforge."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "In person?"

  "You can send a trusted member of your staff to attend in your place."

  "Great. I'll send Urzan."

  Roland's eyes widened before he burst into laughter. "'Ah! Varix! The look on the faces of the other local leaders might well be worth it."

  I laughed along with Roland, enjoying the mental image of Urzan sitting among the nobles and officials. "He'd probably show up with a battle axe and a keg of ale." I deepened my voice. "Urzan like little lord people! Urzan maybe eat little lord person!"

  Roland wiped a tear from his eye as his body shook with laughter. "The other lords would faint dead away." He straightened his blue coat, wiped at his eyes again, and shuffled the papers. "Now, let's get down to business."

  The next hour passed in a bewildering series of papers shoved before my face. We sat at the table while Roland had me sign document after document for The Wandering Boar's ownership. His quill scratched across parchment as he made notes in the margins.

  "I didn't have to sign this many documents when I purchased the Shadow's Respite."

  "Ah. Yes. That was a far different contract. A baron owned the Wandering Boar. It has a full staff, vendor contracts, and other miscellaneous items. You should read all of the documents."

  I hated reading documents.

  "Does the staff at The Wandering Boar know about the change in ownership?" Roland asked, adjusting his gold-rimmed spectacles.

  I shook my head. "I haven't had time to go over there, yet. Nor will I have time today. I have to return to Crownforge for the wedding."

  "Ah, yes." Roland nodded, his expression brightening. "The royal wedding. I wish I could be there."

  "Why don't you come?" I suggested. "There's room on the dragon as long as you can hold on. I have this wonderful sticky rope that kept me from falling off on my way back to Everspring."

  Roland's face drained of color. He tugged at his crisp white collar. "That's... quite generous of you, but I must decline. Heights and I don't mix well."

  "Your loss." I shrugged. "The view from up there is incredible."

  Roland gathered the signed documents and tucked them neatly into his satchel. "I'll file these today. However, I'll leave the promotion paperwork with you until you're ready to sign it." He placed a thick envelope sealed with red wax on the table. "Take your time to consider it."

  After Roland left, I sat alone drinking coffee. The morning sun streamed through the windows and highlighted dust motes in the air. The tavern felt quiet without its usual bustle.

  The door in the floor flipped open and crashed against the wooden planks. Lady Churl peeked up, her green face split with a toothy grin. She wore her usual stained apron over a simple brown dress.

  "You overheard all that, didn't you?" I asked.

  Lady Churl blinked innocently. "Overheard what, boss?"

  I crossed my arms and stared her down.

  She burst into laughter, climbing fully into the room. "Fine! Reckon I heard it all. Couldn't help it."

  "Why not?"

  Lady Churl pointed to her large, pointed ears. "Seen the size of these ears? Reckon I can hear that bard snoring along with a dragon in his bed."

  "Kieran does snore rather loudly," I admitted, but didn't mention Frostfire, nor did I want to think about those two sharing a bed.

  "Like a bear with a cold." Lady Churl hopped onto a stool. "So, Lord Commander, eh? Fancy title for a tavern keeper."

  I groaned. "Don't you start."

  "What? Think it suits ya." She picked up my coffee mug and sniffed it. "This needs somethin' stronger."

  "It's morning."

  "Never stopped me before." She grinned and hopped down from the stool. "Breakfast, Lord Commander?"

  "Stop."

  "As ya wish, Lord Commander." She bowed with exaggerated formality, then scurried back toward the kitchen.

  I grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, dipped it in ink, and started writing notes for my staff. I scribbled down instructions about meals and a reminder to push the saucy tomato trenchers.

  "Remember to mention these to every customer," I wrote. "They're selling well, but we need to make them one of our signature dishes."

  I added a note about how proud I was of them for handling things when I left them short-handed. "You all stepped up admirably. If anything goes wrong while I'm away, just do your best. I trust your judgment. Expect an increase in pay as soon as I return.

  Light footsteps thumped down the stairs. Frostfire appeared, dressed in her usual plain brown dress with a simple leather belt. Her blue hair stuck out in all directions, and dark circles hung under her eyes. She wore no jewelry except for a simple silver chain around her neck.

  "Morning," she mumbled, stifling a yawn with her hand.

  "Good morning," I replied. "Sleep well?"

  "Not enough." She stretched her arms above her head. "Need food. Lots of it. Give me an hour to eat, then we can head to Crownforge."

  "I'll be here, and thanks again for the ride. I appreciate it."

  Frostfire waved her hand and yawned again before trudging toward the side door.

  The door closed behind her. I returned to my notes and added a few more details about inventory and supplies. A sharp knock rattled the front door.

  "Too damn busy this morning," I muttered and tossed the quill onto the table.

  I walked to the door, threw the lock, and pulled it open. Sunlight flooded in, along with the sight of Baron Bertram Swiftwood. He wore a crisp navy blue jacket with polished silver buttons, tan trousers, and freshly shined black boots. His salt-and-pepper hair had been combed neatly to the side, with his mustache neatly trimmed.

  "Good morning, Varix," he said with a slight bow. "I hope I'm not disturbing you too early."

  I swallowed my irritation. "Not at all, Baron Swiftwood. Please come in."

  "Thank you." He stepped inside. His boots clomped on the wooden floor. "I asked around town and learned you lived here in one of your rooms. Very smart from an economic standpoint."

  We stood awkwardly in the middle of the tavern. The baron looked around, his gaze sweeping over the polished bar and the clean tables.

  "The Shadow's Respite has come a long way." He nodded approvingly. "You've done remarkable work here."

  "Thank you," I said, surprised by the compliment.

  The baron reached into his jacket and pulled out a tri-folded piece of thick parchment. His hands trembled slightly as he held it out to me.

  "This contains a list of my wife's symptoms and all the cures I've attempted over the past year." His voice cracked. "Every detail I could think of." He took a deep breath and said, "I cannot express how much this means to me. For the first time in a long while, I feel..." He paused to compose himself and looked up. "I feel hope."

  I took the parchment gently. "I'll make sure this gets to Elixander. If anyone knows where to find a cure, it will be him, baron."

  "Thank you." He wiped his eye quickly with his sleeve. "Truly."

  The baron turned toward the door, then stopped and faced me again. "Would it be too presumptuous to ask if I might come and enjoy a meal here sometime? I've heard wonderful things about something called 'spicy chicken wings.'"

  I couldn't help but grin broadly. "You're welcome anytime, baron. The first round will be on the house."

  Relief washed over his face. "Most kind. Have an excellent day, Lord Commander Vel'Naris."

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "You as well, Baron Swiftwood. Give your wife the best for me."

  Baron Swiftwood gave me a small bow. I had no idea what to do, so I returned the bow.

  After he left, I tucked the parchment into my pocket and headed upstairs to pack for Crownforge. Halfway up, I stopped and snapped my fingers as I remembered there was one more small task to accomplish. I needed the ghosts to show me where to find a suitable bottle of wine in the forgotten cellar below.

  Hey all! I'm boarding a flight to London, and then I'll be flying to Amsterdam in the next few hours. Woo! I will post chapters of this book and (which has really started to take off over the past few weeks) during the thirteen days I'm in Europe, but they will be spotty at best.