The tavern was filled with warmth, laughter, and the clinking of plates, until the door creaked open with a low groan.
A cold draft swept in.
Everyone froze.
Kaelen, mid-bite, looked up with a frown so deep it could bury a dagger. "We literally hung the 'Closed' sign. What part of C-L-O-S-E-D does this guy not get it?"
Alira stiffened slightly and furrowed her brows wary of the newcomer. Neal quietly set down his mug.
A man in a dark cloak stood at the entrance. He didn't say anything at first. Just brushed the dust off his shoulders like he belonged here. His hood was pulled low, and the firelight flickered strangely off the metal clasps along his sleeves.
Kaelen stood up with an irritated groan, grabbing the nearest chair like he might throw it just to make a point.
"Oi! This is a private dinner, in case the giant glowing 'CLOSED' sign wasn't enough. Shoo."
The man didn't move. Didn't even glance at Kaelen.
