Page 38 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Then what should I do?” The papers crumple slightly under his fingers.

I stay silent with nothing to offer.

The light through the high windows shifts from afternoon gold to the deeper amber of early evening. The Hall of Valor is emptier now. Most of the guards left for their evening patrols or their homes.

Garrett gathers his papers, organizing them into neat stacks. I can see the tightness around his eyes. He’s been sitting for hours, maintaining perfect posture. That has to hurt.

“I need a drink,” he says, rolling his shoulders back.

“Is that wise? You’re still investigating—”

“I’m not investigating anything tonight.” He tilts his head in my direction. “You look like you could use one too. Come, join me.”

I can refuse him. It’s not a command. Garrett never commands me despite the fact that I’m technically in his service. He treats me more like a... friend. Can an assassin and a noble be friends?

Maybe we can. Therein lies the problem.

“Where?” I ask.

His smile is tired but genuine. “Somewhere with strong ale and no questions.”

The tavern he chooses is the Valorian’s favorite, called The Eagle’s Rest. It sits in the merchant quarter, tucked between a tea shop and a lantern warehouse. The sign above the door shows an eagle with its wings spread, talons gripping a sword.

Inside, the air is thick with pipe smoke and the smell of roasted meat. Long tables fill the main room, most of them occupied by off-duty guards still in their uniforms. Laughter and conversation create a steady hum of noise.

Garrett gets nods and raised glasses when we enter, though conversations fall quiet at my presence. Eyes track me as we make our way through the room. I’m used to it by now. My Grimsbane mask marks me as something dangerous, even if I’m only wearing the upper half.

We take a table in the back corner. I sit with my back to the wall, facing the door. Garrett sits across from me, settling into his chair with a sigh. Within minutes a serving lady appears with two ales and a smile for the golden-haired noble.

“First round’s on me, loves,” she says, setting down the mugs. “Heard about the missing lads. Terrible business, that.”

Garrett gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you, Marion.”

She pats his shoulder before heading back to the bar. Garrett watches her go, then picks up his mug.

He takes a long drink. Then another. By the time I’m halfway through my first ale, he’s signaling for a second.

“Slow down,” I say.

“Why? Are you my mother now?”

The serving lady brings two more ales. Garrett pays her and I notice his hand shakes slightly when he hands over the coins. That’s not from the alcohol. He’s not that drunk yet. It’s from the exhaustion and stress.

“I’m your guard. How am I going to get you home when you’re too drunk to walk?” I keep my voice low.

“Then carry me.” He drains the rest of his first mug and starts on the second.

I watch the tavern while he drinks. The other patrons are mostly harmless. Merchants sharing a meal after a long day. A few off-duty guards playing dice in the corner, their laughter getting louder with each round. An older couple eating quietly near the fireplace.

No one pays us any attention. We’re just two more people in a crowded tavern.

A group of Valorians at a nearby table are deep in conversation. I catch fragments of their words.

“—can’t just disappear with no bodies, no blood. It could be anyone—”

They’re scared.

“You know what I love about this place?” Garrett asks, gesturing with his glass. Ale sloshes over the rim, dripping onto the table. “No one bows. No ‘my lord’ every other sentence. I’m just another person drinking away bad days.”