Whispers in the Shadows

The tavern reeked of cheap ale, damp wood, and desperation—the kind that kept tongues loose and ears shut. Ailwin liked that about the place. No one asked questions unless they wanted their pockets emptied or their teeth loosened.

He sat in his usual corner, back to the wall, cane resting against his knee, gloved fingers tracing the silver crow’s head. A mark of the past. A warning.

The Vultures. He'd dealt with assassins before—most were braggarts wrapped in shadows, too enamored with their own mythos. He wasn’t here for their blade work. He was here for the children, the ones slipping through the cracks of the Crows' grip. The ones the Antivan underground was smuggling out, too young to carve their first kills, too elvhen to be anything but prey in their own homeland.

The Forsaken could help. The Forsaken would help.

He flicked a coin toward the bartender, who caught it without looking. The universal signal to keep the drinks flowing and the questions unasked.

Then, Ailwin leaned back, watching the door. He had sent word. Described himself. If his contact had sense, they'd arrive soon. If they had sense, they’d come alone.

Maika made her way towards the rendezvous point, a tavern which was empty enough to talk but crowded enough to not be heard. She was alone, armed enough to defend herself but not too much in order to not be hostile.

The brunette scaned the room as she entered, spotting her contact almost immediately. She sat down without permission, her expression serious but not hostile. “I am your contact” she said in a low voice as she sat down, close enough to not raise her voice but not so close that she would be invading his personal space.

“So, let’s talk business?”

Ailwin exhaled sharply through his nose, half a laugh, half something colder. He tilted his head, considering her.

“The Vultures.” He said it like turning over a coin, weighing its worth. “Didn’t expect you to walk in and say it outright. Bold.”

He tapped his cane once against the floor, the sound soft but deliberate. “You’re doing good work. Smuggling the kids out before the wrong hands get to them. I don’t like debt, but I owe the kind of people who’d be those kids if someone hadn’t gotten to them first.”

His gaze was sharp, unflinching. “So, let’s skip the posturing. You need coin? Safe houses? A name that opens doors? I can offer all three. What I don’t offer is patience. Tell me what you need.”