Alpha King Damon
In Garnet Falls, we tie our horses up to posts in the sheltered, wooden stables behind the local tavern and go inside. We wait at the bar to be served, and when the bar-mistress is free, we book two rooms for the night with her. We men can bunk in with eachother, and the ladies can have their own room. It’s late, a storm is brewing outside, and we’re starving and exhausted.
We sit in a quiet corner of the room, near the fireplace, minding our own business, drinking beer, and eavesdropping in on the conversations between the villagers.
‘It was so rude of the knight to leave with her like that. We had gifts for her. She just seemed a rude, entitled girl,’ a young woman with brown eyes, auburn hair in a messy bun, in a black shawl, tells her companion.
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