Tidebreaker
Harold Bramble โ

8
The streets of Cersizon hummed with life as Elowen led me through twisting alleys and bustling market squares. The scent of roasted herbs mingled with woodsmoke, and merchants called out their wares from beneath colorful awnings. I struggled to keep pace with her confident strides.
โYeโll like Da,โ she said over her shoulder. โRough about the edges, but heโs a good sort.โ
I wasnโt so sure. Elowen had found me wandering aimlessly the day before, out of place and overwhelmed. Sheโd handed me a loaf of bread without a second thought, then insisted I follow her to The Thistle & Tankard, her familyโs inn.
We turned a corner, and the inn came into viewโa sturdy timber-framed building with ivy creeping up its weathered walls. The sign above the door, painted with a thistle and tankard, swayed gently in the breeze.
Elowen pushed the door open, and warmth spilled out to meet us. The scent of ale and roasting meat filled the room, mingling with the low murmur of conversation. Tables scattered across the wide space were occupied by tradesmen nursing tankards of ale.
Behind the bar stood a towering man with a thick, silver-streaked beard and broad shoulders. His ruddy face was set in a scowl as he wiped down a mug.
โDa!โ Elowen called. โWeโve company.โ
Harold Brambleโs sharp eyes landed on me. โAnother stray?โ he muttered.
โPolite one, at least,โ Elowen quipped, guiding me to a table near the hearth.
โPoliteโs somethinโ,โ Harold grumbled, setting down the mug. Harold arrived with two steaming bowls of stew, setting them down with a grunt. โEat up, lad,โ he said gruffly. โYe canโt conquer the world on an empty stomach.โ
I hesitated. โI canโtโโ
โThink naught of it,โ Harold cut me off. โElowenโs got a habit of takinโ in strays. Donโt mean I gotta be a beast about it.โ
โThanks,โ I said quietly, picking up the spoon.
He nodded, then turned back toward the bar, muttering something about fools and soft-hearted daughters.