At this rate the ale would run out before the evening's crowd left, but the wench didn't let any concern show on her face as she sat four more tankards in front of the party of gentlemen. Gentlemen was not exactly a fitting word for them. They were loud, boisterous, and had consumed enough during the course of their meal to satisfy a whole crew of sailors. Well, that may be an exaggeration, but their enthusiasm seemed to be spreading through what was already a busy night, and the wench could barely keep up with it.They were all adorned in leather and fur, yet armed with quality weaponry. They were probably mercenaries.

  "Thank you, goddess," one of them said loudly. "For this ale is ambrosia and you give us an endless supply!"

  The wench laughed, "You certainly have kept me on my feet tonight, sirs. But, our esteemed innkeeper is to thank for the quality of the ale, so direct your worship to him."

  She nodded at a gentleman currently walking up from the cellar. He was a man of average height and a slight build, though the way he was carrying the keg of ale with ease testified that he was stronger than he looked. He was probably in his late thirties and had dark brown hair that was pulled back, mostly, though it was becoming less so as the night progressed. He wore an apron that was well stained with the ale and wine he made and served. But somehow, despite his lack of size and disheveled appearance, most knew he was the man in charge when they saw him. Maybe it was his confident stride, or the way his amber eyes carefully assessed the room when he entered.

  The mercenary redirected his accolade, shouting across the room, "You, sir, are a king among innkeepers. A toast to your ale, your wench, and your health." Then after a pause, "And even to the scrawny bard!" His companions eagerly and loudly gave their agreement and raised their tankards. Surprisingly, most of the rest of the inn cheered and joined them. The innkeeper showed a smile with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he met the glance of the wench before he set the keg down in place. Even the scrawny bard seemed to find amusement rather than offence.

  The wench grinned. At least the mercenaries were of a fairly kind stock. They were quick to praise and had not made any advances on her other than complimenting her beauty. Truly, they had mostly treated her as a goddess with their adoration since they entered.They had a certain politeness that glimmered through their lack of trained graces.

  "Can we have your name, goddess, as well as that of innkeep?" another one of the mercenaries asked loud enough for the whole inn to hear.

  "I am called Poppy," the wench said, "And our esteemed innkeeper goes by Klein." Then with a wider smile and a saucy wink at the bard she said, "And the scrawny bard is Stellan."

  "To our esteemed hosts on this night: the goddess Poppy, his excellence, Klein, and…" he paused as if trying to come up with something better before simply going with, "...Stellan!" The man offered yet another toast and his companions and the other guests joined in as eagerly as before.

  Only one table in the corner seemed bothered by the mercenaries. The table held three young men, their snobbish demeanor marked them as nobles, their staves marked them as mages, and the crests on the tabards beneath their cloaks that the wench had gotten a glance at while serving them marked them as students of the King's college. College mages seldom travelled this far away from the college, but when they did it was never good. Two of them clearly thought they were far above a lowly tavern wench, but found great amusement in the fact that the third's hands kept finding reasons to be on her body.

  The inkeep would try to put a stop to it if he saw. His establishment provided food, drink, and for a few, rooms, mostly ale. That was it, though. It was a respectable establishment and Klein had made it clear to Poppy that she earned her coin serving food and drink with smiles and kindness, but that was all. She was grateful for that fact.

  But the young nobles that came from the college were too noble and too hot headed to be confronted and too shameless to care about causing a scene. In the capitol, where they attended classes, their behavior would be reported to the college and they would be punished. Here, there was no such penalty for them for any crime much short of murder. They began to rise from their table and she rather hoped they were offended enough by the mercenaries to leave early.

  Her hopes were dashed when they crossed the inn to the mercenaries' table. They were all young, probably a decade younger than the wench putting them in their twenties. All three of them were well dressed and decent enough to look at, but for all their good breeding they had nothing of charm to plead their case.

  "This establishment surely is not that great if they let in the likes of you," said the handsy one who seemed to be their leader. He looked directly at the mercenaries as he said this. None of the mages spared a glance at the innkeeper. They were looking for a fight, not for the mercenaries to be thrown out.

  Drunk as they were, the mercenaries knew the precarious situation they were in and though their hands went to their weapons they were slow to reply.

  The mages, however, had no hesitancy speaking, and one of them added, "I think we will have to throw you out ourselves to spare this establishment further embarrassment."

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  The mercenaries began to stand. Consequences would not keep them from defending themselves.

  "Your lordships," Klein began speaking as he moved toward the conflict. "These men have paid for a room. Surely you understand what it would do to my establishment's reputation to have paying customers thrown out. I apologize if their behavior offends you, and as we still have our private room available tonight, I will gladly seat you in there where you won't be bothered and serve you all the drinks you want tonight personally."

  The lead mage seemed to consider this offer, "We would like your wench to serve us in a private room." The gleam in his eye as he said this made Poppy's stomach churn.

  "That is not possible as I could not keep up with the crowd as she has tonight," said Klein. "I need her here, but I will serve you all the wine you want at no charge for the inconvenience." Poppy wondered at how Klein knew what they were drinking. Though, she shouldn't really be surprised. Nothing escaped his notice.

  "I think a simpler solution would be to get rid of the problem," one of the mages said and all three brought their staves in front of them.

  "You should know we are currently under the employ of Duke Bisset," said one of the mercenaries. This did seem to give the mages pause. Duke Bisset was a good friend of the crown prince. If these mercenaries were currently under his employ he could cause problems for these mages if word got around that they were delaying those under his employ.

  "You don't even know our names," said the mages' leader. Apparently, they had no intention of backing down now.

  Poppy looked to Klein, and saw worry clouding his features. She looked to Stellan, but he had disappeared and a glance around the room told her that he had slipped elsewhere. She barely had time to wonder before another man emerged from the cellar.

  Poppy recognized him, and knew him as Henry, though she knew that wasn't actually his name. She couldn't really judge. Poppy hadn't been the name she was born with either. She didn't know much about him other than realizing that he had to be mage because of the staff he carried and there was no way he wasn't a noble. It was clear that he had some business with Klein. Poppy knew Klein was involved in something more than innkeeping, though she wasn't sure what. She knew that there were tunnels under the town, it was common knowledge, though nobody seemed to know the extent of them or where they came from. Sections of them had collapsed and most were hesitant to explore too far for fear of being trapped. She suspected the locked door in the cellar led to them, and knew that Klein spent a lot of time behind that door with men like Henry who were out of place at the inn.

  Henry sighed and swept his hand through his auburn hair. "Lads," he said, gaining the attention of the mages, "If you are to have a fight, try to find a fair one rather than waiting until your opponents are so clearly inebriated." Henry moved himself between the mages and the mercenaries casually and with weariness in his expression said, "I present myself as a much more fitting opponent."

  The leader of the mages narrowed his eyes, "One against three hardly seems a more even fight, and we have no quarrel with you." He didn't seem intimidated by Henry. He just seemed annoyed that he was ruining their fun.

  "Oh, but I have a quarrel with you if you come into one of my favorite establishments and cause trouble. The apple wine here is a favorite of mine," Henry told them, his voice calm and his glance unwavering. "And Poppy is a favorite of mine," he looked at her and winked with a sly smile. "And you are ruining my plans for the evening," he said, returning his attention to the mages.

  The leader smirked,"if you insist," he said, then without warning he loudly began chanting a spell. A fire ball was released from his staff. Poppy almost cried out, what kind of barbarian used a fire spell indoors. He was going to burn the place down if he didn't kill them all first. Before she could say anything she noticed that Henry was also chanting a spell under his breath. The shadowstone on his staff darkened, and when the fire ball hit his body he appeared to just absorb it with it having no effect.

  The three mages started to look worried, but one of the other two was already casting another spell. A bolt of pure arcana shot out. This time Henry barely seemed to exert effort as he put up a barrier spell that blocked it.

  The others looked to the third one expectantly, but while he had seemed shocked at first/ he now seemed terrified. "My staff!" He exclaimed. Sure enough there were tendrils of arcana winding up his staff and his terror showed that they weren't his. The other two moved as if to start casting and found that they couldn't move their own staves.

  Poppy looked on in amazement. That amount of arcana took a lot of magical potential. The look on Henry's face was pure determination as he softly chanted his spell. The three staves suddenly snapped.

  The mages were shocked speechless at first, but the leader quickly recovered, his disbelief turning to anger, "You'll pay for that!"

  "You don't even know my name," Henry said with a smile, "Good luck with that." He then tightened his grip on his staff. "Now I suggest you leave while your staves are the only thing broken."

  Fear flashed across the leader's face as he apparently realized just how much of a disadvantage he was at, especially without his staff. "Let's go," he said to the other two, but before he crossed the threshold, he looked over his shoulder at Henry and said, "I will learn your name eventually."

  Henry sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, "Poppy, love, I find myself in need of some of that apple wine Klein makes so well."

  "Of course," Poppy replied. The inn had fallen silent.

  "You might as well put a round for the house on my tab," Henry added. Cheers rose. Poppy didn't even realize that Stellan had slipped back in until he started playing his lute. Still fairly hesitantly, the guests went back to their food, drink, and conversation.

  Henry after receiving thanks from the mercenaries had slipped into a seat in the corner of the room, and Klein sat down across from him. Poppy brought out his wine first as well as an ale for Klein. He didn't have to ask. She knew from the look on his face that he needed one.

  "Thank you, Poppy," said Henry as she set the drinks in front of them.

  "You are not really the one who needs to be doing the thanking," Poppy said with a smile.

  "That lovely smile is all the thanks I need," said Henry with a smile. Poppy couldn't keep the blush from her cheeks. She had come to expect flirtation from Henry and knew it was all just in fun, but he was very attractive. And there was a charm in his manner that shot straight through her jaded heart.

  "Well, I have been informed tonight that I am a goddess," she said with a playful smile.

  "I believe it," said Henry.

  "Goddess or not," said Klein, "You have already worked harder than usual tonight. Now, it's already much later than you usually stay, as well. I am finishing up my business with Henry. Things are already starting to die down after that scuffle. Tell Stellan that he will have help to attend to the guests shortly while I walk you home. I don't want you walking the streets alone with the likes of those college brats out there."

  Poppy breathed a sigh of relief. She honestly had been worried about walking home alone tonight. She should have known that Klein wouldn't let her. As she finished out her night serving the rest of the round Henry had ordered, she overheard the mercenaries telling Stellan a story that clearly had been ridiculously embellished if it was even based in truth at all.

  "I tell you," one of the mercenaries was saying to the bard, "It may sound crazy, but it all happened exactly as I am telling you. Now, doesn't that deserve it's own song? There would be no other bards singing such a thing."

  "There certainly wouldn't," said Stellan, struggling not to laugh.

  Poppy smiled. She was really fond of her job even if she was a lowly tavern wench.