Plan

"Sheesh, don't be so dramatic. I don't need handouts from gods to get things done."

Luna paced back and forth, running her hands through her hair. "Do you have any idea what you're up against? The Demon King's forces aren't just tough—they have ancient magic that normal weapons can barely scratch!"

"So I'll learn magic," he said with a shrug. "Can't be that hard."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Magic takes years to master! Decades, for the higher arts! And you just... what? Expect to pick it up as you go along?"

"Pretty much." He leaned against the wall, looking unconcerned. "I've always been a quick study."

She let out a string of colorful curses that made him raise his eyebrows, impressed despite himself.

"You know," he said casually, "for a tavern keeper who follows a goddess, you've got quite the vocabulary."

"You try running a tavern without learning to swear," she shot back, then took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing with Ariadne, but this isn't a joke. People are dying. The Demon King's forces grow stronger every day."

"I'm not playing games, kinda. I just do things my way."

"Your way is going to get you killed." She moved to the window, checking the street below. "And it's going to get me killed too, if the Watch finds you here. Come on—we need to get you downstairs before the tavern opens."

She unlocked the door and peeked out into the hallway. "Coast is clear. Stay close and try to look like you belong here."

He followed her down a narrow staircase that led to the back of the tavern. The main room was empty, chairs still stacked on tables from the night before. A large bar dominated one wall, behind which shelves held an impressive array of bottles and kegs.

"Not bad," he commented, looking around. "Cozy."

"It's home," she replied simply, moving behind the bar. "Hungry? I need to start breakfast for the morning regulars anyway."

Before he could answer, his stomach growled loudly. He realized he hadn't eaten since before Ariadne had appeared in his classroom—which felt like a lifetime ago now.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said with the ghost of a smile. "Sit and stay out of trouble while I cook."

He obediently took a seat at the bar, watching as she moved efficiently around the kitchen area, lighting the stove and gathering ingredients. There was something almost hypnotic about her practiced movements.

"So," he said after a while, "how did you end up running this place?"

She cracked eggs into a bowl. "Family business. My grandmother ran it before me, and her mother before that. We've always had a tavern in Venoz, though not always in this building."

"And always dedicated to Ariadne?"

Her hands paused briefly. "Yes. Though that part's been secret for the last fifty years." She resumed whisking the eggs. "The first Laughing Mermaid was actually a proper temple-tavern. Half worship space, half gathering spot. That was before the Purge, of course."

"The Purge?"

"When Torval I outlawed all gods but Solus." Her mouth tightened. "The templars went through the city, burning shrines, seizing property, arresting priests. Most of the old temples were converted to Solus worship or government buildings."

"But your family survived." It wasn't a question.

She nodded, placing a pan on the stove. "Ariadne warned my great-grandmother. Told her to convert the temple space to storage rooms, hide the shrine, and play along with the new rules." Bacon sizzled as it hit the hot pan. "We've been hiding in plain sight ever since."

"Must be hard, keeping that kind of secret."

She gave him a measured look. "Faith often requires sacrifice. Though I expect a hero who refused divine powers wouldn't understand that."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered.

Before she could respond, there was a knock at the front door. She tensed, glancing at him.

"Too early, none of my customers come this early." she whispered, reaching under the bar and pulling out a small crossbow. "Get behind the bar. If it's the Watch, let me do the talking."

He slipped behind the bar as she approached the door, keeping the crossbow hidden in the folds of her skirt. She unbolted the door and opened it a crack.

"We're not open yet," she said firmly.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" came a mocking male voice. "Especially one bearing gifts."

Luther saw Luna's shoulders relax slightly, though her grip on the crossbow didn't loosen. "Daron. What do you want?"

"To replace what was broken, of course."

She opened the door wider, revealing a tall, well-dressed man with a carefully groomed beard. He held an ornate washbasin in his hands, nearly identical to the one Luther had shattered.

"My sources tell me you had a little accident this morning, a loud noise was heard from your room." He said smoothly, his eyes flickering around the room until they landed on Luther. His smile faltered momentarily. "I see you have... company."

"New security," she said tersely, taking the basin. "Thank you for this, but as I said, we're not open."

Daron's eyes remained fixed on Luther. "Security? How interesting. I wasn't aware The Laughing Mermaid needed muscle." His hand drifted to his belt, where an official-looking seal hung alongside a short sword.

With a jolt, Luther realized this must be one of the Watch that she had mentioned. He straightened, meeting the man's gaze steadily.

"She has been experiencing some harassment," Luther said evenly. "Thought it best to bring in some help. Someone to keep things peaceful."

"How prudent," Daron replied, his tone suggesting he found it anything but. He turned back to Luna. "We should talk about this... development. Privately."

"Another time. I have a busy morning ahead."

The man's jaw tightened, but he gave a stiff nod. "Very well but we will discuss this soon." He cast one more suspicious glance at Luther before departing.

She shut the door firmly behind him, throwing the bolt with more force than necessary. "Arrogant, prying—" She cut herself off, taking a deep breath. "Well, that's done it. The whole Watch will know about you by midday."

"Friend of yours?" He asked dryly.

She snorted. "Hardly. He has been trying to court me for years—if you can call thinly veiled threats and surveillance 'courting.' He's captain of the local Watch detachment and seems to think that entitles him to... well, everything."

"Including you?"

"Especially me." She set the new basin on the bar with a thud. "His father was a templar who helped with the Purge. Family's been powerful ever since."

"I don't like his eyes." His expression showed he wanted to do something stupid.