The bartender, Ben, snatched a mug from the counter and began to fill it with a dark, frothy ale, his movements still sharp with irritation. He slid it down the bar toward Netzir with a grunt, his eyes lingering on the mage. "Aye, 'honest work' pays for my roof and the wood in that fire," he muttered, loud enough for the group to hear. "And it pays for repairs when show-offs get careless." He gave a pointed look at the ceiling before turning his attention to Shiki, his expression souring further at the mention of the charms. He said nothing, merely turning his back to wipe down a shelf with aggressive swipes of his rag.
The man Miiya had released scurried away from the group without a backward glance, melting back into the tavern's shadowed corners. He kept his head down, pointedly ignoring the conversation he had started.
Reed let out a short, humorless laugh at Netzir's boast of versatility. "Anything, eh? Can you conjure up some courage for these folk?" His gaze swept the room, landing on the locals who were now actively trying to ignore the adventurers' table. At Shiki's question, several of them flinched. The man by the hearth who had clutched his star-charm earlier now simply stared into the flames, his face pale. No one spoke.
"He's got a point," Reed said, his voice dropping lower as he turned back to the group. "Those charms... they're new. Weren't so many of them last season. Superstition runs deep when the nights get long, but this feels different." He looked to Juniper, a silent question in his eyes.
Juniper, who had been listening intently to Miiya's explanation of her signals and Marrion's introduction, nodded her thanks to them both. Her tail gave a slight, thoughtful twitch. "Thank you, Miiya, Marrion. It's good to know what we're all capable of." She then addressed Shiki's question, her brow furrowed with concern. "I noticed them too. When I was posting the contract, I asked the Guildmaster about them. He called it 'local nonsense.' Said they were wards against 'bad air' and 'ill fortune' from the swamp." She leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper. "But he wouldn't meet my eyes when he said it."
The tavern door creaked open, letting in a gust of wind and rain that made the fire gutter and the missing posters dance on their nails. A lone figure, cloaked and hooded, stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment before shutting the world out again. The newcomer didn't approach the bar, but instead took a seat at a dark, isolated table, water pooling at their feet. The tension in the room, already thick, seemed to coil a notch tighter.