The Brave's Tavern

At four in the afternoon, Elyon checked his pocket watch. There was little hope of getting off work on time today; he just hoped this young lady wouldn't cause any trouble.

Starlight Street was one of the cleaner streets near the port, and the two disembarked at the street's junction. Emma instructed the coachman to return for her in two hours, to which he reluctantly agreed after she whispered something in his ear and pointed at Elyon. The luxury carriage then left with the coachman.

"Where should we start our investigation?"

"Let's begin with the locals," Emma seemed quite enthusiastic.

"What time is it now, Miss?"

"Four in the afternoon. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering how difficult it will be for you to gather useful information at this time."

Emma looked puzzled, then started approaching people on the street. Despite the harsh afternoon sun, the only ones around were children playing and the odd passerby.

Emma stopped a woman carrying a large bundle of laundry, likely a washerwoman, who was in her thirties and already showing signs of age with crow's feet at the corners of her eyes.

"What can I do for you, officer?" the woman asked, ignoring Emma and addressing Elyon directly. The uniform's authority clearly outweighed Emma's presence.

"We're here to investigate a coachman's murder from last night. Have you seen or heard anything that could help?" Emma interjected.

"No, I'm just passing through to deliver this laundry. If there's nothing else, officers, please don't delay me further," the woman said, eager to leave upon hearing the question wasn't about her.

"How can you be so indifferent? A man died, and you don't have any useful information to give?"

The woman wasn't moved and hurried off with her clothes. Emma was about to chase after her when Elyon held her back.

"Do you know how many children are waiting for that woman's meager wages? The truth you're seeking is just a casual topic of conversation for most people here."

"But they can't be so numb about it."

"Life pressures make them apathetic. If you really want to learn something, follow me." Elyon pointed to a bar across the street with a sign featuring a sword and shield, with 'The Brave's Tavern' scrawled across it.

"I'll do the talking. Don't mention we're investigating," Elyon instructed her after removing his shoulder patches and tucking his gun holster into his pocket. Apart from his clean shirt making him look less like an injured dockworker, he fit the part.

Pushing open the tavern door, they found the place bustling with people gathered around a makeshift stage. Many were waving small white slips and shouting.

"Peck it to death, go on!"

"Kick with your feet!"

"I bet my week's wages on you, keep at it!"

Elyon squeezed through the crowd and managed to find two stools by the bar.

"What's happening over there?"

The bartender looked up from polishing glasses. "New here, huh? They're watching a cockfight. This round has started, but you can join the next one if you like. What'll you have to drink? Did you hurt your arm badly?"

Elyon perused the drink menu and ordered, "I'll take a large mug of local rye beer for myself, and a glass of Luc champagne for the lady. And some fried peanuts."

"That'll be two pence for the beer, four pence for the champagne, two pence for the peanuts. Eight pence total."

Elyon handed over a silver coin. "Keep the change. Any recent news around here?"

The bartender pocketed the coin and began pouring their drinks. "Wait here, I'll tell you in a bit."

Emma shot Elyon a look of disdain. "This is your approach?"

"Bars are a mix of all sorts. The bartender interacts with the most people and occasionally lets slip important information. You can't beat paying two pence for potential leads."

"I want to try that rye beer too. I'm sick of champagne; that's all they serve at every party."

The bartender served them a wooden mug the size of a small bucket, filled with opaque, foamy beer. Then, he brought over a smaller glass of amber-colored champagne and a dish of peanuts.

Emma snatched Elyon's beer and slid her untouched champagne toward him. She took a swig from the mug.

"Ptuh!" Another spray hit Elyon's face—the second time today he'd been doused, but he just calmly wiped off with his handkerchief.

"It's so bitter and strong!"

"What did you expect for two pence? Excuse me, could I have another mug?"

The bartender shook his head and handed over an empty mug. Elyon poured the barely touched beer into the fresh mug and pushed the champagne back to Emma.

"You drink this," Elyon suggested.

Taking a sip of the beer, the bitter chill ran down his throat. Elyon grabbed a handful of peanuts and asked the bartender, "Seen anyone strange around here lately?"

The bartender wiped another glass. "Strange folks? More smugglers have been arriving these past few months. Just the other day, some folks ran here seeking refuge. Other than that, only a suspicious man and woman."

"Tell me about the man and woman. What did they look like?" Emma inquired.

"No need to look; the suspicious man and woman are us," Elyon said, stone-faced.

"Where?"

"Right here, you and me."

Just then, several drunken men jostled up to them, with the leader sporting a scar across his face, his disheveled shirt fastened by a single button, and a skull tattoo on his arm.

"Such a pretty and juicy little thing, why hang around this crippled waste? Come to me instead, and I'll take you to the stars."

"Exactly, and if one's not enough, we've got brothers, too."

"Let's leave. We won't learn anything here," Elyon finished his beer in one gulp.

"Don't run, sweetie," the drunk reached out to grab Emma.

"Stay sober... no need to thank me," Emma said, splashing the untouched champagne in the drunk's face. Elyon had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

"What the hell, woman?" The drunk lunged at her, aiming to grab Emma, while his accomplices blocked Elyon. Emma grabbed the drunk by his collar and waistband and hoisted him up.

"Thud!" The roughly 180-pound drunkard flew through the air, crashing onto a table where others were drinking. The table split in half under the impact, and glasses and snacks scattered across the floor.

The other drunks, seeing this, drew knives to sneak attack Emma. Elyon kicked one hard in the knee, sending him down, howling in pain, clutching his leg like a cooked shrimp. Elyon then drew his experimental pistol from his pocket and held it to the head of the other drunk, who was trying to escape.

"Don't move, or I'll say you assaulted an officer and had to be shot on the spot." The drunk felt the metal barrel on his head and dropped his knife, kneeling on the ground.

"We didn't know you were cops, or we wouldn't have dared."

Elyon ignored the man, addressing the bartender and the onlookers, who were stunned by the scene. "How much for the damage here?"

The bartender, still in shock, looked around. "Sir, it might be three pounds. The table's wrecked, plus the broken glasses. The spilled drinks aren't worth much."

"Do you have three pounds in cash?"

The only sober drunk laughed bitterly. "Officer, do we look like people who carry three pounds in cash?"

"Damn," Elyon cursed, turning to Emma. "Check the lead drunk's pockets for money, and for the others too."

Bystanders made way for the strong young woman who had effortlessly lifted a grown man. The drunk who had been thrown under the table, hearing this, quickly got up, dusted himself off, and handed over his cash to Emma before kneeling obediently to the side.

Elyon looked at the crumpled notes and coins—it wouldn't amount to a pound.

"Damn, harass women without a penny to your name."

The man kneeling before Elyon retorted, "We were only verbally heckling, maybe just a grope at most."

"What did you say? What do you mean just a grope at the butt?" Emma was about to teach the three ruffians another lesson when Elyon pulled her back. Another fight and his wallet wouldn't cover the costs.

Reluctantly, Elyon handed over the five-pound note he had just acquired hours before.

"Give me two pounds back; no tip this time."

The bartender looked dumbfounded as he handed Elyon two pounds.

"Anyone who got their drinks spilled, go to the bartender for another one on me. As for you three scumbags, get out now. Don't let me catch you again or you'll be paying me back what you owe."

With that, the two drunks quickly helped their friend out of the bar, and the other customers returned to their drinks.

On the way back, Elyon looked at Emma, who seemed demure yet had the strength of a dinosaur, and said, "Pushed in the direction of strength, Miss. Next time, before getting into a brawl, pick your spots—it's embarrassing, both figuratively and literally."

"Those jerks dared to catcall me, saying they'd touch my butt. I was being polite by not breaking their bones," Emma contended, her face flushed.

"Alright, alright. Next time, that five pounds won't be enough to cover the damages."

"Are you so concerned about money? What, if I offered you ten pounds a week, would you quit your job right now and become my bodyguard?"

"If you offer a long-term contract, I might consider it. But with our current state, who knows who would be protecting whom."

Emma looked at Elyon with disdain. "Coachman, stop at the next corner." After the luxurious carriage came to a halt, Elyon leapt out, darting several yards away as if avoiding a plague, and quickly vanished around the corner.