The last customer's voice faded as Brack slid the heavy wooden bolt on the door. Cranewold Bar returned to silence, with only the sound of the cold wind slipping through the building's cracks and the soft crackle of the logs in the hearth.
James placed the last rag on the counter. He had just finished wiping the final table. His body moved with machine-like familiarity, even though every muscle protested with exhaustion and the wound on his hand still throbbed. Working helped him from drowning in his own thoughts… thoughts that swirled around images of blood and lifeless eyes.
Frey was too sick to handle the heavy work tonight, and James knew this was the only thing he could do to repay the shelter and help he had received. He arranged the washed glasses on the shelf before extinguishing nearly all the lamps, leaving only a single one to cast a dim, guiding light.
He should have gone straight back to his room upstairs, but his footsteps paused. He thought of the girl he had brought back with him… Liana. A heavy sense of responsibility settled on his shoulders. She was likely facing a difficult night as well.
After hesitating for a moment, he decided to slowly climb the creaking wooden stairs. He walked past his own room to the guest room at the end of the hall and stopped in front of the door. He took a deep breath and knocked softly. Knock… knock…
"Are you asleep?" he asked quietly.
Silence was the answer for a moment, before the wooden door slowly creaked open. Liana stood there in a simple cotton nightgown that Elen must have found for her. Her face was still pale, her golden-brown eyes looking somewhat distant. She didn't say anything, merely stepped aside to let him in.
James stepped into the room, which was as cold and quiet as his own. On a small table beside the bed, he noticed a food tray. The soup in the bowl was cold, the bread was untouched, and the glass of milk hadn't been touched at all. He knew instantly that she was still in shock from what had happened.
James felt no different, but as a 30-year-old man in a young boy's body, he realized he had to be the stronger one right now. He walked over to the table and slowly broke the silence.
"The soup's gone cold," he said plainly, not in a scolding way. "You should at least drink the milk. It will help you sleep."
Liana slowly shook her head, her gaze still fixed on empty space.
James sighed softly. He knew that common words of comfort would be meaningless at a time like this. So he chose to speak the truth they were both facing.
"I know it's hard… those images don't just go away."
Those words made Liana flinch slightly. She turned to meet his gaze steadily.
"But we did what we had to do," James continued, his voice serious but laced with understanding. "We're still alive. That's what matters most right now."
A single tear slowly rolled down Liana's cheek, but she didn't break down into sobs. She simply gave a small nod, an acceptance of their shared fate. James saw that he had done what he could. "Get some rest. We'll figure things out tomorrow."
He said his final words before turning and quietly leaving the room, allowing the girl to be alone with her turmoil. When he returned to his own room, James collapsed onto the hard bed. Exhaustion immediately washed over him, but he knew this night was far from over.
And tomorrow morning… he still had an important matter to discuss with Brack.
The first light of day streamed through the cracks of the old wooden window into the room. Though he had barely slept a wink, James's body, accustomed to waking at dawn, roused him at his usual training time. He got up from the bed and put on the thicker training suit Ann had chosen for him. The determination to become stronger pushed him to maintain his discipline, even though his mind was still heavy with yesterday's events.
He walked quietly down the wooden stairs, past the still-slumbering bar, before opening the back door to the familiar training yard.
The morning air was colder and fresher than usual. The leftover snow from the night before made the packed-earth yard completely white. Ann was already in the middle of the yard. She wasn't training at full capacity like on other days, but just moving her body lightly, warming up to the cold. Her posture was calm and more contemplative than usual.
When she saw James enter, she stopped her movements and turned to face him directly. Her large, round eyes studied him quietly for a moment before she spoke, her voice flat but clear.
"I heard about last night… that you saved someone." Her gaze shifted down to his bandaged hand. "How's the hand?"
James followed her gaze. "Lady Elen dressed it. It should be fine."
Ann nodded slowly. "If it doesn't get better or starts to hurt, tell me. It'll probably be sore for the first couple of days." Her tone was normal, as if talking about a common matter, but it was laced with the knowledge and experience gained from her own minor injuries. She met his eyes again, before a rare, faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
"I'm glad you didn't turn your back on what was right," she continued, her voice holding a genuine sincerity. "It shows your heart isn't blind."
Those simple words were powerful. They eased the heavy feeling in James's heart, replacing it with a warmth, knowing that at least one person understood. Before he could say anything in reply, the kitchen door opened again. Frey walked out, his face still pale.
"James…" Frey called out softly. "Sir Brack… wants to see you. He's in his office."
James nodded slowly. He glanced at Ann one last time. She gave him a slight nod, a gesture of encouragement. He took a deep breath of the cold air, filling his lungs, before following Frey back into the bar, heading towards the office of the man who held his and Liana's fate in his hands.
Brack's office was stuffy and smelled of old wood, ink, and faint liquor. Brack sat in a chair behind a large oak desk, his towering frame making the already small room feel even more cramped. He nodded for James to sit in the empty chair opposite him.
"Tell me everything," Brack broke the silence, his voice low and deep. "From the moment you left the lumberjack village until you got back here. I don't want any details left out."
James took a deep breath and began to recount the entire story frankly. He told of the encounter, the fight, and the decisions he and Liana had to make to survive.
Throughout his telling, Brack listened in silence, his sharp eyes fixed on James, as if evaluating every word for the truth. When James finished, Brack leaned back in his chair, which groaned under his weight.
"You were lucky," Brack said at last. "Lucky you only ran into two of them, and lucky they underestimated you. But luck doesn't last forever, James."
He clasped his hands on the desk, staring intently at James. "Now my bar is a target. The unseen enemy knows their target escaped with help. Sooner or later, they'll follow the trail here. You have two choices."
"One… you take Liana and run away from here. Go as far as you can. But that means you'll have to face them alone," Brack paused briefly. "Or two… you stay here and use the time you have left, before trouble comes knocking, to make yourself strong enough to face it."
James looked up and met Brack's gaze without hesitation. He had thought about this all night. "I'll stay," he replied with a firm voice. "I'll take responsibility for what happened. I will get stronger."
"Words are cheap," Brack said. He slid a piece of rough, blank paper and a blood-red inkpad across the desk. "Real responsibility is proven with actions. If you want to stay here… then seal your contract."
James looked at the inkpad. He knew this was the final, most difficult test.
"A promise that you will work in service to this Cranewold Bar for one full year, without pay, in exchange for protection, lodging, food, and the training I will provide," Brack stated the terms, his voice merciless.
This was trading a full year of freedom for a chance at survival. James didn't hesitate for a second. He pressed his thumb onto the red inkpad before firmly pressing it onto the center of the paper. His fingerprint became a blood-red seal that could not be erased.
Brack picked up the paper, looked at it for a moment, then nodded slowly. He placed it in a drawer and locked it. "Good… the contract is effective immediately," he said. "Your training begins tomorrow morning. And it won't be like running around with Ann."
"After this winter ends, the Hunter's Association will be recruiting… You must pass the test. That is the first condition of your contract."
"You can go," Brack waved him away. "Go get some rest. Your life won't be comfortable anymore starting tomorrow."
James nodded and walked out of Brack's office in silence. He crossed the quiet bar, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows giving him a sense of warmth that contrasted with the weight in his heart.
A one-year contract… it seemed like slavery. But as his adult mind started to work, he suddenly understood Brack's true intentions.
Brack didn't have to do this. He could have thrown James and Liana out to avoid trouble. But instead, he chose to take on all the risk himself. The harsh-looking contract wasn't actually bondage, but a tangible "path." It was a timeframe, a clear goal, and "help" in the gruffest way a man like him could offer. It was Brack's way of saying, 'I will invest in you, but you have to prove you're worthy.'
When he returned to his small room, James collapsed onto the bed. The exhaustion from the previous day was still there, but the confusion in his mind had vanished. He was no longer afraid… fear had transformed into an unshakeable resolve. He looked at his own hands, hands stained with blood and ink, hands that had just sealed his own fate.
The deadline had been set, and his trial had now truly begun.