The next morning, he went to the tavern looking for a job
The tavern smelled like roasting meat and warm bread. Laxyie pushed the door open and was greeted by the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards.
"Ah, Laxyie!" Joll, the ginger-bearded innkeeper, waved him over, grinning under his thick beard. "You're early today. Too early for trouble, I hope?"
"Depends on your definition of trouble," Laxyie muttered, sliding onto a stool at the bar.
Joll chuckled, brushing his hands on his apron. "Come on now, boy, sit. Myúren's just in the kitchen brewing tea. She'll have something warm for you in a moment."
Laxyie gave a faint nod and glanced around.
Joll leaned over, lowering his voice. "You know, Nursa isn't what it used to be.Thieves, brutes, drunkards with knives… all looking for a chance. Keep your head down, or someone will take it for you."
"You have to keep your head on your shoulders, boy," Joll continued, rubbing his hands together. "And don't go thinking you can handle it all alone. Nursa has its limits."
The tavern was quiet—just the usual morning crowd of regulars sipping ale or nursing a headache from last night's music. He liked the quiet; it gave him space to think.
Joll leaned over, lowering his voice. "I might have a little work for you, if you're interested. Nothing dangerous… unless you count long roads and curious folk. You ever been to Selam?"
Laxyie shook his head. "Can't say that I have."
"Ah, it's a bustling little town," Joll said, rubbing his beard. "Great wine, music that'll keep you awake half the night, and merchants—well, let's just say some carry more coin than they know what to do with. I've got a client who needs someone to escort goods safely. Thought of you, of course."
Laxyie shrugged. "Sounds simple enough."
"Simple, yes," Joll said, giving him a twinkle in his eye. "But keep your wits about you. Selam's lively, and lively towns attract… all sorts of folk. You'd do well to remember that."
Before Laxyie could answer, a warm voice chimed in from the kitchen doorway. Myúren appeared with a steaming mug of tea, her smile gentle but sharp, like she could see straight through him. "Laxyie, eat something, won't you? And… don't forget to find a woman while you're at it. Everyone needs someone to lean on, even you."
Laxyie raised an eyebrow, tilting the mug. "I'm not here to lean on anyone," he said quietly. "I've got a goal. Things I need to do… I don't have time for—" He hesitated, then shrugged. "Not now."
Myúren sighed softly, a mix of amusement and concern. "Ah, stubborn as always, aren't you? Well, just promise me you'll stay alive, at least. That's enough for me."
Laxyie smirked faintly, not meeting her eyes. "I'll stay alive," he said, voice low. "That's part of the plan."
Joll chuckled, shaking his head. "Some things never change, boy. All right, Selam, then. Good luck. Remember what I said: keep your eyes open. The bigger the town, the bigger the problems. And they always find those who aren't careful."
Laxyie nodded, finishing his tea. The warmth spread through him—not just from the drink, but from knowing these two, Joll and Myúren, were people who cared, even if he didn't show it.
"Selam," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see what trouble you've got for me."