The tavern's heavy doors thudded shut against the snow, sending a ripple through the quiet murmur of voices inside. Frost crept along the windowpanes like living veins of silver, and beyond the glass, the storm howled across the distant mountains.
Inside, warmth fought against the chill— crackling hearthfires painted the walls with gold and orange light. Bounty Hunters, traders, and mercenaries moved in and out, their laughter and clinking mugs blending into the steady rhythm of the wind outside. The smell of roasted meat and spirit wine filled the air.
Near the center of the room, the proprietor— a tall, broad-shouldered woman with braided white hair and a fur mantle draped over her thick shoulders— set out a feast before her newest guests. Her cheeks were red from the heat of the kitchen and her hands strong from years of work.
