The Goat’s Hoof had some of the best damn beer in all of Dralif Cor, and Tress would be glad to fight anyone who claimed otherwise. It was strong, it was fizzy, and if you took a big enough gulp, it would kick your ass this way and back before punching you in the gut so hard you puked up last year’s breakfast. In other words, it was the perfect beer.

Tress let it sink down her throat, felt it as it flowed through her body, reveled in the sensation of the cool liquid spreading out across her chest. She looked back at Seahawk and her brother feeling much better about herself.

Of the two twins, Truss had garnered a reputation as “the responsible one” or “the reasonable one.” Tress, meanwhile, proudly wore the badge of “the fun one.” Seahawk was more of a mystery, however. That woman was tough as nails and had some of the best command of Water Magic that Tress had ever seen—so much so that she’d never had to use her other domain in the twins’ presence. Tress wasn’t even sure what it was. And Seahawk also had connections. They never found themselves without a job to do when that woman was around. No matter which city state their little party found themselves in, Seahawk always knew someone who was in need of adventurers’ services.

Since teaming up with Seahawk, they had plundered ancient tombs for lost artifacts, rescued all manner of missing persons, and had rediscovered at least one long-forgotten holy site. It really was never a dull moment with her around. The problem, really, was that Seahawk was distant. They’d been working together for months and the woman still had yet to open up to the twins. They knew nothing of her past, or her real name, or anything. She was an enigma, a puzzle.

And, Tress considered with a smile, she knew how much her brother loved puzzles.

Truss and the puzzle were currently talking to a dwarf, who was wearing the dark metal bug-like armor that dwarves seemed to be so partial to. Tress blinked in recognition. She knew that dwarf.

“Garban!” she exclaimed, leaving the bar, mug in hand, and approaching him. “How have you been, you old bastard?”

The dwarf winced at the sudden exclamation, then turned to look up at her with a smile. “Tress,” he said. “I’d never forget that voice. Or that yell.”

“I would hope not!” she laughed. “You in Dralif Cor for long?”

Garban shrugged. “Depends on the work, I suppose. I’ve been entrusted with showing the lad the adventuring life, and staying in one spot’s not usually part of it.” He nodded to a man sitting at a nearby table.

Young. Dirty blond hair that had been combed with admirable skill, though it was also just too long for the combing to have done much good. A short goatee. Well built… Tress smiled. Whoever he was, he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“You’re taking on apprentices now?” Truss asked.

“Knew his parents from back home,” Garban told him.”Can’t really say no when they ask me to keep an eye on him. And they’re paying me well for it too.”

Tress nodded, still studying the man at the table. Garban was from Salok, up in the Tersen Republic. That meant this guy was Saloki as well. The thought of him being Tersi was a distasteful one, but Garban was good people, so this guy was probably alright too. Tress didn’t know much about Salok, other than that it was located in Southeast Tersen, was centered on a mining city, and had a mix of dwarven and human populations. But her ignorance was no problem, not really—men did so love to talk about their pasts.

“I’ll go so hi to your new partner,” Tress said with a grin. Her brother caught her eye and gave her a look of caution, but she ignored him. Truss had always been a romantic at heart, but Tress had found that she had no patience for intricate courtships and dramatic declarations of love. Give her a tumble or two in bed any day. It was much simpler.

And she could tell, just by looking at this guy, that him and her were on the same page.

His eyes followed her as she approached his table. They flickered down to take in her shape before refocusing on her face, trying to get a quick peek at her body without being obvious about it. Men did that often, and they were never as subtle about it as they thought they were.

Though in this instance, she didn’t particularly mind. That might change if he turned out to be a bore, or a boor for that matter. But for now, let him look.

“Hello,” Tress said, taking a seat beside him at his table. “So I hear you’ve been apprenticing with Garban?”

“Something like that,” the man said, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re an adventurer as well?”

“I am,” said Tress. “Me and my brother did a few jobs with Garban back when we were first starting out. I’m Tress, by the way.”

The man nodded. “Dorvo.”

“Well, Dorvo,” Tress said after taking a swig of her own beer, “if I’m not mistaken, you look like you just got back from finishing up a job yourself. Ready to kick back and take it easy for a bit?”

He grinned. Dorvo had a strong jaw, and strong-looking hands. That was something that Tress loved in a man—strong hands. There was so much a man could do when his hands were sturdy, and his fingers were nimble, and he could grip her in his palms. She’d decided it would be a waste to let this one go, and she couldn’t wait to feel those hands on her.

But before Dorvo could respond, the other chairs around the table scraped against the floor as they were pulled out, and suddenly there were people sitting all around them.

“Careful with this one, lad,” Garban warned, his voice full of laughter. “She’ll chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful.”

Tress suppressed a frown. “You make me sound like some sort of monster.”

But Dorvo’s grin just widened. “Well, as adventurers, we’re supposed to take on monsters, aren’t we?”

On her other side, Truss groaned. “Can you save the flirting for later?” he asked. “Some of us just want to have a drink and relax.”

“This is how I relax,” said Tress.

Truss rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps we could relax with a game,” Seahawk said. The tall woman took a deck of playing cards from one of the many pouches along her belt and began shuffling. “A friendly game of Crowns?”

Garban seemed interested, as Tress knew he would be. “Bets?”

Seahawk’s mouth curved ever so slightly. “Only if you wish to make one.”

Tress exchanged a glance with her brother. They both recalled how competitive that old dwarf could get.

“Why not?” Tress asked. She downed the last of her beer and slammed the mug onto the table, showing her teeth in a wide grin. “Deal it out, Seahawk. Let’s play a few hands and see well we can clean Garban out.”

Garban’s eyes blazed. “You’re on, lassie,” he said. “Let’s play.”