Southshore is the last proper Alliance town in these parts. A harbour, a few inns, and the kind of weary resilience that comes from living in the shadow of something darker. The people here are practical. They don't ask too many questions, and they don't trust strangers easily.
I found a quiet inn near the water and ordered a bowl of stew. Nothing fancy. Just a warm meal and a chance to think about what to do next.
That's when I got careless.
I reached into my pouch to pay and pulled out a handful of silver. Somewhere among the coins was the small metal emblem I'd picked up from that burned house in Elwynn — the one with the raven crest. I'd almost forgotten I still carried it. It slipped through my fingers and landed on the table with a soft clink.
The innkeep picked it up, squinted at it, then dropped it like it had bitten him.
"What kind of coin is that? We don't take that here."
I scooped it up quickly and paid with proper silver. But out of the corner of my eye I noticed two men at a nearby table. They'd gone quiet. Both of them were staring at the spot where the emblem had been.
They didn't look like travellers. They looked like they were waiting for something.
I finished my ale, left a few extra coins on the table, and stepped out. Didn't run. Didn't rush. Just walked at a steady pace, letting the evening crowd swallow me.
They followed.
I took the long road out of town, the one that winds past the old fences and into the open hills. I wanted to be sure. A few hundred yards out, I heard footsteps behind me picking up pace.
Two of them. Just like at the inn.
The fight was short and sloppy. They weren't professionals — just thugs looking for an easy score. I caught the first one with an elbow as he reached for me, sent him stumbling into a ditch. The second one swung wide and I put him down with a knee and a shove. They were both still breathing when I left.
I'm not sure what they wanted. Maybe they thought I had more strange coins. Maybe they just saw a traveller alone on the road and figured I was an easy mark.
Either way, I'll be more careful next time.
I was about to head back to my room when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Didn't think I'd see you up here."
I turned around.
She was standing in the doorway of the inn, arms crossed, a half-smile on her face. The serving girl from Goldshire. She looked different up here — more at home, somehow. The same sharp eyes, the same quickness in her voice.
"You left in a hurry back then," she said. "Didn't even say goodbye."
"Didn't have much of a choice," I said.
She tilted her head. "You always say that?"
I almost laughed. "More than I'd like."
She told me she'd moved back to her home region — her family's from around these parts originally. She didn't say much more than that, and I didn't push. It was just nice to see a familiar face that didn't want to rob me.
I wanted to stay. Talk longer. But the road was still there, and so was the feeling that I'd already overstayed my welcome in Southshore.
"I should go," I said.
She nodded. Didn't ask why.
"Take care of yourself, Willers."
I said I would.
I'm not sure if I meant it.
