A warm, golden light spilled from the tavern into the evening air, accompanied by the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Above the door, a creaking sign depicted a rat on its back, legs raised, with crosses for eyes, beside a foamy mug. The words "Rat Poison" were etched beneath.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and the faint tang of ale. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and flowing conversation. In a corner, a group of locals were engrossed in a heated card game, while others sat at tables, enjoying their drinks and sharing stories. The fire crackled and spat in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls and radiating a warm glow that sharply contrasted with the tavern's name.
Klaus approached the bar, a sturdy wooden counter polished to a warm sheen by years of use. Behind it stood Emil, the barkeep, a stout man with a bushy beard. Emil turned from serving a patron, his smile immediately fading.
"What are you doing here, boy?" he grunted.
"Hi, Emil. Have you seen my mother?"
Emil's face soured. "She's over by the card table," he said, turning back to pour another drink. Klaus knew Emil wasn't a bad person. There were times when Klaus would be disciplined in the tavern, and Emil was the only one to intervene, though his method was always to move the dispute outside. Still, Klaus considered it a better alternative.
As Klaus walked toward the card table, he overheard the expected gossip from other patrons about his family's reputation. This time, however, their whispers were about someone else.
"I wonder what she's doing in this town?"
"Don't you know who that is? She's that famous sorcerer who got third place in last year's Sorcerer Summit."
"Really? She's that famous? What's she doing here then?"
"I don't know, but I got a feeling it ain't good. Nothing good ever comes from sorcerers and their magic."
"Yeah, and she's a Blackwater."
The patrons turned their gaze to a table in the far back of the room, next to the card players. There, a woman sat with her arms crossed, clad in black robes. Her bright purple hair flowed straight down to her front, and she wore a giant pair of glasses lined with different colored gems.
Klaus couldn't help but look in her direction as he walked toward the gambling table. 'My, she's beautiful,' Klaus thought. Just then, her head turned toward him. 'Did she hear my thoughts?' Klaus asked himself, scrambling through his mind, trying to recall if he'd ever heard of a sorcerer who could read minds. Their eyes locked, even through her glasses. Klaus's mind went blank as the gems around her glasses glowed yellow.
She tilted her head, watching Klaus approach the table beside hers. Klaus dismissed the coincidence, making a mental note to share the news with Remy when they met again. Perhaps Remy would now have an idea of who to look for around town.
Klaus reached the red-haired woman at the table, her back turned to him, engrossed in her game. Klaus felt he needed to make his presence known.
"Mom, we have to go. Dad is asking for you," Klaus said, tapping the familiar shoulder in front of him.
The woman turned, inspecting Klaus. "Looks like your husband is looking for you, Eirlys," the bald man across the table, tattoos climbing his neck to his chin, drawled. "And he sent your bastard to do it."
"Shut up, Giliar, I'm on a winning streak here," she snapped, turning back to place her cards down. She then pushed all the numbered wood and stone on her side of the table to the center. "The gods have blessed me today, boys. I'm all in," she declared confidently.
The confidence in her voice made Klaus wonder if she had, in fact, won them a lot of money today. Eirlys was a gambler; though she occasionally brought home some money, it was rarely enough to last until the next day. She would typically recount her gambling exploits, who she played with, and every detail of the game. She'd make excuses for losing large sums of their money—money they had often just borrowed—and promise to win the next game.
"Ha! You're so easy, Eirlys. After a few small wins, you immediately jump on the opportunity to make big," Giliar laughed, dropping his cards for the whole table to see before scooping all the marked stone and wood to his side. "You never learn."
The whole table erupted in laughter, all but Eirlys, whose knuckles were white and trembling with anger. Klaus felt a pang of disappointment; that money would have been helpful, especially since they barely scraped by. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction that the horrible 'mother' before him had lost once again and would have to invent another excuse for her loving husband at home. Klaus took what small victories he could find throughout his life with the Ashes, but he never actively caused any of their misfortunes. They were perfectly capable of ruining their lives on their own.
"Mom," Klaus said, placing his hand on her shoulder. The men around them were still laughing, and he could feel her whole body trembling with rage.
Eirlys abruptly stood up, silencing the laughter, and turned to Klaus. "You!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "This is all your fault! If you didn't interrupt my concentration, I would've thought of another way to win! Instead, you made me lose!" she screamed, rearing her right hand high over her shoulder.
The room fell silent at her outburst. They already knew what would happen next. The Ashes were notorious in their small town for abusing their foster kid, Klaus. Everyone was all too familiar with what both Eirlys and her husband were capable of, yet no one ever stopped them.
Before her hand could descend, Eirlys caught Emil's stern gaze from behind the bar in her peripheral vision. She took a deep breath before letting out a single word.
"Out!" she bellowed, pointing toward the door.