The inn no longer smelled of coin or trade. Regardless, it was warm with woodsmoke, crowded with bodies, and loud with laughter that everyone knew would not last. No one paid anymore. Bread, fish, and fire were given freely now, shared between soldiers, watchmen, guild workers, and the ones too stubborn, or too needed, to flee.

  Velthur sat at a corner table with Maruzan, Bram Flintbrace, and Torli Underpick. A single plate of sardines sat between them, oil soaking into rough bread.

  Bram stabbed at one with his fork and held it up as though weighing it. “These sardines,” he said, shaking his head, “I’d trade ’em for mountain goat any day. Seven days a week. Eight even.”

  Velthur let out a laugh that surprised him. It came sharp and quick, like a spark catching dry straw. He hadn’t laughed like that since before Elzibar.

  Torli leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His round face split into a grin. “My boys back home, they’d never touch this.”

  Maruzan raised a brow. “Boys?”

  “Five,” Torli said proudly. “And the oldest’s taller than me. Which, granted, isn’t saying much.”

  That brought another round of laughter. Velthur listened closely, soaking in the sound. He liked it. It wasn’t the careful cheer of priests or the loud boasting of sailors. This laughter was rough and honest. For a moment, the weight of the siege lifted from his shoulders.

  But it didn’t last.

  The door opened, letting in a breath of salt air, and the laughter faltered. Commander Ennett and First Captain Vane stepped into the room, their presence heavy with duty. Both of them carried the scent of the sea and the tension of command. Conversations around the room lowered, not silent but subdued, as if everyone sensed that orders had walked through the door.

  The two leaders scanned the room quickly, then made their way toward the corner table.

  Ennett gave a short nod. “Velthur.” Her tone was measured, clipped, but not unkind.

  Vane’s voice carried more ease, though his eyes were sharp. “I hear you found something.” His gaze lingered on the boy with curiosity, though Velthur couldn’t shake the feeling there was something behind it, something calculating.

  Velthur glanced at Maruzan, who gave him the faintest nod. Slowly, he reached into his satchel and pulled out the felt bag. His fingers trembled as he untied it. He set the dragon’s tooth on the table.

  The noise of the inn went on, laughter, clattering mugs, the scrape of chairs, but at their table, everything went still.

  Bram leaned in first, his wide nose wrinkling. “That came out of a mouth?”

  Torli gave a low whistle. “By the stones, that thing could split a warhammer.”

  Ennett studied it closely, squinting at the markings etched into the pale gold. “Strange symbols. Old. Might be the work of priests. Decorative, perhaps.”

  But Vane did not speak right away. He stared at the tooth, unblinking. He felt it before he even understood it. An echo, a faint pulse, almost like a heartbeat pressed against his own. And when he looked at Velthur, he noticed something stranger: the boy seemed to calm it. Not with effort, but by simply being near.

  At last, Vane spoke. His voice was smooth, almost too smooth. “You’ve done well. This may be more special than you realize.”

  Velthur felt a swell of pride rise in him. For once, he had brought something of worth. He had not only followed orders, he had uncovered something that mattered.

  Maruzan, though, felt his stomach tighten. Vane seemed keen on the item.

  Vane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Tell me,” he said, “why haven’t you sailed yet?”

  Velthur froze. He glanced at Maruzan, uncertain. The question dug into him, stirring all the doubts he’d been trying to bury.

  Maruzan answered quickly, his voice firm. “He is. Tomorrow. I arranged it.”

  Velthur blinked in surprise but caught the warning glance from his father. He nodded, swallowing his words.

  “Well then,” Vane said. He sounded as though he believed them, though his eyes betrayed nothing. “There’s a supply boat from Arnathe arriving at dawn. I’ll see to it that the boy is on it. Safer that way.”

  Velthur’s chest tightened. Dawn. That was soon. Too soon. He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again.

  Maruzan hesitated as well. The offer was good, too good. Safer than anything he could arrange himself. Yet the thought of Velthur leaving under another man’s watch, of losing him to the sea before he was certain of anything, it gnawed at him.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He nodded slowly. “That could work.”

  But inside, his thoughts ran faster. He could slip away with Velthur before dawn, find another path out, one that wasn’t watched. He hated that the thought of asking for help made him feel weak. Weakness had no place here. Not when so much depended on him.

  Vane noticed the pause. He saw the flicker in Maruzan’s eyes, the way Velthur’s silence stretched. He didn’t press them. But he tucked the truth away.

  This boy and the relic were not joined by chance. Vane had felt it. There was a rhythm between them, a thread binding their fates. If the tooth was truly a dreaming relic, its slumber had already begun to break.

  The table grew quiet again. Torli cleared his throat and reached for another sardine, trying to draw back the mood. Bram mumbled something about goat meat, though the words didn’t carry the same cheer as before.

  Velthur kept his hands folded tight in his lap. His stomach churned, though he couldn’t tell if it was fear or pride. He had wanted to make a difference, and he had, but now that he had, the weight of it pressed heavier than he had expected.

  Maruzan stared at his son, torn between two urges: to keep him close or to send him far away. Neither choice felt safe. Neither choice felt right.

  Ennett finally broke the silence. “We’ll need to consult the clerics about this,” she said, nodding toward the tooth. “And the guilds. If it’s dangerous, it needs to be secured.”

  “Or if it’s useful,” Bram added, a hungry glint in his eyes. “We’ll need every edge we can get.”

  Velthur’s hand brushed the felt bag. The tooth felt warm, faintly alive. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to hand it over. Not yet.

  Outside, the wind shifted, bringing with it the damp smell of the beach. It carried something else too, something faint but steady.

  A pulse.

  Velthur thought it came from the tooth. Vane suspected it came from farther south.

  Either way, none of them spoke of it. Not yet.

  The table slowly returned to the clatter of cutlery and low chatter, though the tooth stayed in the middle like a quiet anchor. When the sardines were finished and mugs had run dry, Maruzan stood.

  “Velthur,” he said quietly. “With me.”

  Velthur rose without question, slinging the satchel over his shoulder. Bram gave a grunt of farewell, Torli raised his mug in half-hearted cheer, but neither pressed. Everyone in Harbinth knew that privacy was rare and valuable these days.

  The two slipped out of the inn into the night air. The street was quieter than it had been earlier, though the distant clang of hammers and shouts of watchmen carried faintly from the walls. A lantern swung overhead, its light pulling long shadows across the cobblestones.

  They walked a short distance, then Maruzan pulled Velthur into a narrow alley between shuttered shops. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. His face was tight, his jaw working.

  Velthur waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He clutched the satchel like it was a shield.

  Maruzan broke the silence first. “I lied.”

  Velthur blinked. “About what?”

  “The boat,” Maruzan said, voice low. “I didn’t arrange it. Not tomorrow, not at dawn, not at all.”

  Velthur’s mouth opened, then closed again. He gripped the satchel tighter. “Why did you say you did?”

  Maruzan dragged a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “Because men like Vane, captains, commanders, they need answers, not doubts. If I had said I didn’t know, or that I wasn’t sure, he might have taken you from me right then and there. Put you on that supply boat whether we wanted it or not.”

  Velthur’s voice trembled, though he tried to keep it steady. “Would that be so bad?”

  The words struck harder than Maruzan expected. He straightened, eyes narrowing. “You want to go? You want to be sent off like cargo to who knows where?”

  Velthur looked down at the cobblestones. His voice was quiet. “I don’t know what I want. But… if it’s safer…”

  Maruzan stepped closer, crouching so his eyes were level with the boy’s. His hands rested heavily on Velthur’s shoulders. “Listen to me. Safety doesn’t exist anymore. Not here. Not anywhere. You think a boat makes you safe? There are storms at sea. Raiders. Hunger. Disease. And even if you make it north, who will you find? Who will know your name? Who will keep you alive when the world doesn’t care if you’re breathing or not?”

  Velthur’s lip trembled, but he bit down on it. “You would.”

  “I would,” Maruzan said fiercely. “That’s why you stay with me. You don’t let yourself get sent away by men who think they know better.”

  Velthur nodded slowly, though his eyes were wet. “Then why lie to them? Why not just say no?”

  Maruzan let out a harsh laugh, one without humor. “Because saying no to a captain is like painting a target on your back. They don’t ask, they take. They decide. And I won’t give anyone the chance to decide for us.”

  The boy was quiet for a long moment. Then he whispered, “You’re scared.”

  Maruzan froze.

  Velthur lifted his gaze, meeting his father’s eyes. “You’re scared. That’s why you won’t let me go. Not just because you don’t trust them. Because you don’t trust the world. Because you’re afraid of losing me, like mother.”

  Maruzan’s chest tightened. He wanted to deny it, to bark back that fear had nothing to do with it. But the words wouldn’t come. His silence answered for him.

  Velthur didn’t push. He just looked at his father, his own fear plain on his face. “If we only have each other… then that has to be enough.”

  Maruzan pulled him close, pressing his son’s head against his chest. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. The sound of Velthur’s breathing, the faint weight of the satchel between them, the strange warmth of the relic, those were all the words he needed.

  When they finally stepped back, Maruzan wiped his eyes quickly, as though brushing away dust. “No more questions about the boat. We’ll make our own way. Quietly.”

  Velthur nodded. “Together.”

  “Together,” Maruzan agreed.

  The wind picked up, bringing with it the faint roar of the sea. Somewhere beyond the walls, drums beat faintly in the night. Neither father nor son spoke of it. They turned back toward the inn, their shadows stretching side by side beneath the lantern light.

  The siege hadn’t started yet. But it would. And when it did, they would face it, not as soldier and boy, not as captain and charge, but as two hands holding fast in the dark.