To his relief Ardich took over the conversation.

"How do you find Prebovna?" Ardich leaned in, a curious sort of glint in his grey-blue eyes.

Nikolas's stomach sank again because he knew it was one of those questions.

"It is very big," he said. "I know it was big but I've never thought about it until now. I told you about the animals. I'd like to see more of them. I'm—" trying to find a trade, he wanted to say but decided against it. "I'm hoping to send a letter to my sister, where do you think I should ask?"

"How far does the letter need to travel?"

"Ah," Nikolas frowned. "In good weather, maybe three or four days? That's how long it took for me to get here."

"I'd ask a merchant," said Ardich with a shrug. "They'll do it for you. But be prepared to negotiate the price, they always like to play sly and put it at higher than what it is. You are just sending a letter, not a package?"

"Yes," Nikolas agreed, "just a letter." He didn't want to say more, and he didn't want to start running his mouth like he did with Erwing. Ardich didn't feel like someone who he ought to confess a weakness to. Besides, he had only met the boy, what kind of person spills out their secrets to a near stranger? "How did you meet Tino?" Nikolas decided to ask. Tino was a neutral topic.

"He asked me to pay his tab," said Ardich and there was a smile turning the corner of his mouth. "I was going to say no but I suppose I should do an act of good will every so often in this city, no?"

Nikolas opened his mouth to ask another boring, safe question, mainly if Ardich liked hunting, or where Ardich could go hunting that wasn't the Tsarina's lands but then the door flung open with a crash. He jumped, and turned his head to look at the party that came ambling in.

There were many kinds of walks, Aldeim had told him. There were the kinds of dignified, courtly stroll that showed you were a gentleman of fine breeding. There was the clumsy gait of someone who had no education whatsoever. At this he had frowned at Nikolas who used to slouch and shuffle his feet. But Ardich had moved on to say, that there was a final kind of walk. The kind that said one owned the place one was walking into and knew it. An arrogant sort of amble, and one should always avoid such individuals.

'Why?' Nikolas had asked, expecting some sort of frown from Ardich at that stupid question.

To his surprise Ardich did not reprimand him. 'Those kinds of people never mean well,' said Ardich. 'Make yourself scarce in their company and hope that they don't ask you for anything or remember you for any reason.'

The boy that walked in, for he surely wasn't older than Nikolas, Tino, or Ardich, was simply... full of himself. He came in with an entourage of other men and boys with him, all shouting and pushing people aside to make way for their esteemed leader. All the boy needed was a ridiculous hat, thought Nikolas.

"Robertz," Ardich muttered.

"What?"

"Robertz, he's a right pain in the ass. Don't look his way, the only skill he's got is demanding coin."

Robertz pushed his way towards the front of the tavern, and upon seeing the flustered barkeep promptly demanded, "You've missed your payment. One more and I'll have this," he waved a hand, "establishment shut down."

"Of course, Rynda Robertz," stammered the man, "of course I would, but you must understand—"

His words were cut off by Robertz's fist coming down on the table. "What did you say?"

"It is winter, Rynda Robertz," said the barkeep. "Not much happens—"

"Then what of the people here, my good sir? Why aren't you making them pay?" Then to the crowd in the room, Robertz shouted, "Why are you paying this kind man hm? Pay him for keeping you all so entertained!" He punctuated the last sentence by throwing several mugs in front of the barkeep across the room.

One landed on their table, and the splash of whatever liquid jolted Tino out of whatever stupor he was in.

"What, wusshit?" Tino said, whirling around and nearly standing up before Ardich seized him by the corner of his tunic and forced him to sit down again.

"Shut up!"

Tino frowned, but then when he saw Robertz he gave a sigh of resignation, "It's him isn't it?"

Nikolas didn't know what it meant until he saw Robertz's party split up, and the men coming towards the patrons with open bags. Coins were forcibly separated from their owners, and if one was too hesitant to part with the metal, then a head bash was accompanied. Nikolas swore softly under his breath, patting around his belt. But he didn't bring any money, he hadn't been expecting to drink. The only thing he had with him was his mother's locket and the dragon scale. The earth can part itself before he parted with either of those things.

They were walking towards his table now, and Nikolas looked around at all the other men putting in their coins. Even Tino was fumbling around for something. What, Nikolas didn't know because hadn't Tino ask Ardich to pay for his beer? Instinctively he grasped at his locket and felt its warmth. No, he decided, he wasn't going to ask Tino to pay and neither would he ask Ardich.

"Give it up boys, that's your tax for visiting such a fine establishment," said the man, and when he grinned his teeth was all black and yellow from chewing tobacco.

He held out the pouch and the hand holding it was all grimy and filth. He wasn't even wearing a Rytsar uniform.

"Does Robertz pay you a fair share of that?" Nikolas said, and Tino kicked him under the table.

"What did you say?"

"I said," said Nikolas, feeling braver than he thought. "I asked if Rynda Robertz paid you for your fair share of work. Didn't you collect," here he glanced around, knew he could count wrongly and the man would be none the wiser, "twenty tables' earnings? Shouldn't he pay you per table?"

The man blinked, long and slow, as if it never occurred to him to ask Robertz to compensate him. The other men with him also frowned at each other.

"You might have more money for a better uniform?" Nikolas suggested. Then, feeling a sort of confidence unknown to him. "You've got the bag already. Why not take your fair share?"

"Fair share," the man repeated, then to his friends, he lifted the bag up and down. "How many taverns have we done this?"

The two of them looked as if it was very hard to remember how many taverns they'd taxed. They took so long that everyone else had finished and Robertz came storming over.

"What took you so long?"

"This one said you haven't been paying us fair," said the man, pointing to Nikolas. His voice was loud even as his thoughts were slow, and it echoed through the now silent tavern.

Ardich let out a soft exhale as Robertz leaned in, all narrowed eyes and pointy faced.

"I don't remember you. Who are you? Pay up."

Nikolas had seen Aldeim at his worst, Brytha at her most furious, and Diase at... her most broken. If Robertz wanted to intimidate him, he was doing a horrible job at it.

"I didn't come here to drink," he said, honestly. "I'm not paying for something I didn't—"

He could see, as if time has slowed, Robertz reaching for his collar. It was a boy's paltry trick, a poor attempt to pull Nikolas over and shake him down, like punishing a dog. But that was too generous, this was merely child's play. If Robertz wanted to scuffle with him like a child, then Nikolas would like him to know that he had plenty of siblings and plenty of experience fighting them.

It was just a matter of standing up, throwing out his hands and twisting his arms just so and Robertz was flat on his back on the tavern floor.

"I believe," said Nikolas heaving a breath, why was the other boy so heavy, did he wear armor? How paranoid of him. "I do believe Prebovna is a fair city? I will not pay for something I did not partake in."

There was a sort of stunned silence from the crowd, the kind of silence from people both horrified and in deep thought of what to do next. Then Nikolas heard Erwing's voice, and it was a relief to hear it.

"Did you hear what he said, boys? You deserve to be paid fair!"

This was the final shattered glass, as the ones holding the bags of confiscated finery immediately made their way towards the door.

"Wait!" Robertz shouted, getting to his feet. "Where are you going, you bastards, you aren't supposed to—" His words may as well be to grasshoppers and he turned to glare at Nikolas. "You!"

"Me," Nikolas said, and he cross his arms and widened his stance.

He had not done anything wrong. Technically anything wrong. He had refused to pay, Robertz had grabbed him and tripped, so there was nothing Robertz can do to bring him to justice. Unless everyone at the tavern declined vouching for him, but that was— no, he had to stare Robertz down now and not doubt himself.

"You're going to regret this," said Robertz, pointing a finger at Nikolas face. It was close enough that Nikolas would go cross eyed if he stared at it but he simply kept his gaze on the spittle that came from Robertz's mouth.

It was funny how he looked more and more like the man he ordered to collect coin on his behalf.

"What are you laughing about you—" Robertz made to step closer, then his eyes caught on the necklace around Nikolas's throat, exposed now from the tumble he had with the other boy. "A Voeveda." Then he sneered, "Your mother allows you to visit such an establishment? Pick your friends better next time."

"I think," Nikolas said slowly, and he drew out the words, like Brytha did when she was talking to someone exceptionally slow or felt like treating them that way, "I think my mother trusts that I'll keep the right company. Thank you very much Rynda Robertz." And he added in a bow as well, because nothing made such a person more angry than a bow, because it made their heads buzz that Nikolas was both polite and rude.

Robertz returned the bow, as Nikolas knew, on instinct, and the look on his face was very stupid as he did so. "You won't go far with that attitude."

Then it occurred to him why Erwing was no fan of Rytsars, capitalized. There was just a look of absolute superiority on Robertz's face, like he knew he was right and had always been told he was right. Well, Nikolas knew just the right thing to say for such a stellar occasion. He leaned in as well, and smiled because it was a nice feeling, smiling when delivering such words, "If I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong."

If looks were dragons then Nikolas would have been dead on the spot. Robertz gave an angry huff and walked out. There was a breath of silence, like pulling out of a dive before the tavern was alight with noise and activity. Nikolas was surrounded by people, a grateful barkeep, a jubilant Erwing and the amused patrons.

"Thank you, sir," said the barkeep, making to shake Nikolas's hand.

"I'm no sir, I'm Nikolas," Nikolas began, flustered, before he looked around at the crowd, confused, "But he took your coin!"

"A tavern man always has a spare coin around him, you needn't worry Nikolas!" said Erwing, patting Nikolas's shoulder cheerfully. "No, you gave him a good beating boy and he won't be too fast returning!" Erwing declared. To the barkeep he said, "But you really ought to do something about those taxes of yours. Don't have Robertz collecting it now."

"I will try," said the barkeep, nodding his head gratefully. "If you do need anything, Nikolas, please, please let me know."

"Is this your friend then?" said Erwing looking over at where Tino and Ardich still sat.

Tino looked in shock, but Ardich had a look of... pride, if Nikolas had to define it.

"That's Tino," Nikolas agreed.

"Ardich," said Ardich holding out a hand to Nikolas. "And I am open to changing trades."

At Nikolas's confused look, he gave a wink, slipped a coin into Tino's hand and walked away, whistling under his breath.