The abrasive warmth of the fireplace drove away some of the night’s chill. Lukas slipped off his gloves, tucked them into his belt and thrust his hands out. He rubbed them together in an effort to warm them faster.

Behind the bar sat an old man, brittle with age, who idly wiped cups with a shred of filthy cloth. He was the proprietor of the Emperor’s Bounty which meant he acted as innkeep, bartender, cook and rumor-monger but he was his own man, and trustworthy besides. “Cold night, M’lord?”

“Colder than a moneylender’s soul, Sirach.”

Sirach grimaced as if he’d had trouble with the lenders recently. Lukas was going to ask him about it when the old man leaned forward to share the news. “Midden was seen around here not two weeks gone.”

“What did he want? Has a new Well been found?”

“Rumors, M’lord. Only rumors.”

“As well he chases rumors- it keeps him out of the capitol. He always did want be more powerful than the rest of us. Don’t you worry though, I’ll not go looking for him. The Truce still stands.”