The Essence Flow

Chapter 93: New Hires, New Headaches

The first thing Towan noticed when he stumbled downstairs was the smell of not-burnt bread—which was so unusual it snapped him fully awake.

The second thing he noticed was the girl behind the bar, effortlessly balancing three mugs in one hand while wiping down the counter with the other. She had a guild tattoo peeking out from under her rolled-up sleeve, her dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense braid.

The third thing was the pale girl perched on a stool, watching him with unsettling focus. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the wood, like she was counting his heartbeat.

Towan blinked. "Uh. Good morning?"

The bartender girl smirked. "Close. It’s almost noon."

Herb popped out from the kitchen, arms laden with freshly chopped vegetables. "Ah! Sleeping Beauty graces us at last." He jerked his chin toward the girls. "Meet your new coworkers. Cassia"—the bartender nodded—"and Rellie."

The pale girl, Rellie, gave a lazy salute. "Congrats. You’re the least terrifying boss I’ve ever had."

Towan rubbed his temple. "When did this happen?"

"While you were snoring loud enough to scare off the rats," Cassia said, sliding a mug of something steaming toward him. "Herb said you’d need this. Also, your apron’s inside-out."

Towan glanced down. It was.

Herb clapped him on the shoulder. "If you’d handled the interviews, we’d have a line of lovestruck noble girls ‘applying’ for jobs. Useless for work, great for gossip, terrible for productivity."

Rellie snorted. "I did sense a blonde in a frilly dress lurking outside earlier. She left when she saw Cassia arm-wrestle a mercenary over a tab dispute."

Cassia flexed her fingers. "He paid. Eventually."

Towan took a slow sip of his drink—some herbal concoction that tasted like regret and healing—and studied the two of them. Cassia moved like someone who’d fought for every scrap she had. Rellie’s gaze lingered a second too long on his hands, like she knew

they’d been shaking earlier.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"So," he said finally. "You two come with resumes or just a shared love of sarcasm?"

Cassia grinned. "Guild-trained. Tabern experience. Can confirm Lytharos’s biceps are not exaggerated."

Towan choked on his drink.

Rellie tilted her head. "And I can tell you’re actually surprised by that, which is adorable." She hopped off the stool. "Also, the guy in the corner? He’s here to rob you. But he’s nervous about it, so maybe go easy on him."

Towan followed her gaze to a shifty-eyed patron clutching a conspicuously empty coin purse.

"...Right," he muttered. "Welcome to the team."

The Drunken Hound was alive with its usual chaos—merchants haggling loudly over watered-down ale prices, a pair of adventurers arm-wrestling so fiercely the table groaned in protest, and the ever-present hum of drunken ballads sung just slightly off-key.

But the real spectacle was the cluster of noble girls huddled near the bar, their silk gloves conspicuously out of place against the tavern’s well-worn oak. They had been "studying" the menu for a solid fifteen minutes, though none had yet to order anything beyond giggly whispers and not-so-subtle glances toward a certain apron-clad bartender.

Girl #1 (fluttering her lashes with the precision of a trained courtier) leaned forward, her voice dripping with faux innocence:

"So, um… is the stew…enlighteningtoday?"

Towan didn’t even look up from the mug he was polishing. "Same stew as always."

Girl #2

(emboldened by her friend’s attempt) practically draped herself over the bar, her velvet-clad elbows dangerously close to a puddle of spilled mead."Maybeyoucould enlighten me instead?"

A shadow fell over her.

Rellie—who had been quietly cleaning a mug nearby—leaned in just enough to block the girl’s view of Towan, her voice as dry as the tavern’s cheapest whiskey.

"Apologies, but that particular service isn’t on the menu." A pause. "Also, your sleeve is about to commit treason against that wineglass."

The girl jerked back—just as her embroidered cuff brushed her goblet. It teetered, the crimson liquid sloshing precariously toward the edge—

Cassia’s hand shot out like a striking viper, snatching the glass mid-air without so much as a glance away from the keg she was tapping.

"Tabern rule #1," she said, sliding the wine back with a smirk, "Never flirt near breakables." She tapped the counter. "That’ll be five silvers. Pay up before I start charging for the show."

Girl #3 (who had been watching the entire exchange with wide-eyed fascination) clutched her companion’s arm and whispered, loud enough for the entire bar to hear:

"Oh gods, even thestaffis cool—"

From the kitchen, Herb’s voice boomed over the din:

"Towan! For the love of ale, stop attracting customers who don’tpay their damn tabs!"

A beat of silence.

Then, as if on cue, the arm-wrestling adventurers’ table finally gave out with a spectacular CRACK, sending both men crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and splinters.

Cassia sighed. "And that’s rule #2."