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It was well into the evening and the Cobbled Swan was packed. Tankards clanked, the conversations were getting louder by the minute and someone had started singly bawdy drinking songs near the back of the room. Riley Mercar leaned against the bar, towering over most of the room, with one elbow braced casually beside Hawke as he ordered another round to make up for the Wicked Grace robbery he’d committed earlier that night.
“Still think you cheated,” Hawke grumbled.
Riley grinned. “Friend, you say that every time you lose. Which is often.” He clapped Hawke on the back hard enough to jostle his drink. “But here I am buying you drinks. Be grateful, Hawke. Generosity this handsome is rare.”
Hawke simply glared at him so just to be safe, Riley flagged down another round for them both. Generosity came all too easily when it was funded entirely by someone else’s lost coin. Especially when it was Hawke’s. He took the fresh tankards from the barman, sliding one across the counter to Hawke who caught it with ease.
As they both took a long drink, a woman slipped between them, her perfume curling sweetly in the rising evening stench of the tavern. Riley noted she was rather pretty, though pretty didn’t quite cover it truly. She was sharp-eyed, confident and clearly intrigued by his presence as she turned to face him.
She rested a hand lightly on Riley’s forearm, fingers trailing along his bare skin, tracing muscles as she tilted her head back to look up at him from under dark lashes.
“Well now,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “is this where all the tall, dangerous men hide?”
“Not hiding, darling,” he said. “Just waiting for someone interesting to show up.”
She seemed charmed by his presence and her light laughter was warm. Hawke, not to be outdone, leaned in close on her other side.
“Careful,” Hawke murmured, leaning in close as his arm slipped around her slim waist, “flatter him too much and he’ll start preening. It is truly unbearable.”
She shifted and slid just a little closer between them, brushing Riley’s hip on one side as her shoulder grazed Hawke’s chest. She turned her head to look up at Hawke.
“Oh? And you? What happens when I flatter you?”
Hawke smirked. “Terrible decisions. Usually involving broken furniture.”
Riley snorted but the woman’s fingers were still on him—sliding up to the underside of his jaw, her thumb brushing against his neck. Her other hand skimmed Hawke’s side in a way that suggested she didn’t mind a bit of friendly competition at all.
Riley’s eyes widened. Hawke raised a brow.
Then she pulled both hands away and Riley barely managed to swallow the groan rising in his throat. She looked like she could’ve been a lot of fun. At least until her expression shifted, turning far too serious for his liking.
“I’d love to stay and play…” she said, tapping Riley’s chest with one finger, “…but my boss wants a word with you.”
Riley froze. Even though his ale-soaked haze, he realised this was not flirting anymore. He took note of the shift of the crowd around them. A number of Threads in plain clothes were closing in around them.
Overall, he had a rather tenuous alliance with the Threads depending on how mutually useful they were to each other. So he had no idea what they wanted with him tonight. There was nothing he had done lately to piss them off. And if they’d just wanted to talk, there was no way they would send this many.
Nor the pretty girl to distract him first.
Hawke noted the change and glanced around. He took a long swig of his ale and let out a sigh. “Fair enough, so we doing this?”
“No doubt about it,” Riley muttered, already reaching behind his back for his daggers.
The first Thread lunged and Riley shoved the woman away. Steel flashed in the lamplight and the bar erupted around them as patrons scrambled for cover. Bottles shattered and someone screamed.
Hawke swung a chair into a man’s chest. “You know,” he shouted over the chaos, “you fight alright with those little daggers!”
“I’d prefer a sword right now!” Riley bellowed, elbowing a Thread in the jaw before flipping over the bar to avoid a spell.
“Oh really?” Hawke dodged a punch, laughing like this was the best part of his night. “Funny, the pretty woman seemed like she wanted your sword too AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT US!”
Riley opened his mouth to retort but a barstool slammed down on his head. He staggered, catching himself on a table before he fell to the floor. Darkness began to haze his vision and he could already feel the blood dripping down his neck. The next thing Riley knew, a bright surge of white light burst across the room. The floor was suddenly turned to ice and his feet slipped from beneath him. He hit the floor hard and his head cracked on the ground, darkness finally claiming him.
Riley woke to the familiar surroundings of Shadow Dragon headquarters and found himself lying in the corner of one of the storerooms. He reached up and felt the back of his head. There was no sign of blood from his wound but his skull still felt like it had been split with a hammer. Apart from that he appeared to be in one piece.
Hawke groaned beside him, still groggy from the hangover and whatever, or whoever, had hit him after Riley went down. It really did irritate him that someone, Riley still had no idea who, had taken him out so quickly. And before Hawke!
Riley pushed himself up and noticed a scrap of parchment pinned to the torn remains of his shirt. It was in Neve’s handwriting and he squinted to read the messy text.
Riley,
You and Hawke owe the Cobbled Swan for:
– 3 broken tables
– 6 chairs
– 16 tankards of ale
– 1 liquor cabinet including 2 bottles of whiskey
- 1 barstool (the one that hit you)
Pay promptly or we will be having words.
Neve
Riley stared at the note. Hawke stared at Riley then grabbed the parchment from his hands.
“…sixteen tankards. Fuck!” Hawke cursed. “That must be some kind of record.”
Riley grimaced and reached for the pouch of gold at his belt. Luck would have it, he had not lost it in the brawl. He held it out and considered the pouch. His hard-won gold from the night before. His heart broke a little.
“I really should’ve just let you keep this.”
Hawke patted his back. “Hey friend, at least we’re alive.”