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Winter melted away into a warmer than normal spring. The mild days were a welcome relief from the unseasonably warm weather. Kirtok always counted his blessings that he'd been born a minotaur. He had no thick pelt of fur to cook under, and his hide was remarkably heat resistant. Other than getting a tan on the days he was out on a job, he was rather content no matter what the weather was like. It was little wonder why his species had populated everything from the Snowhoof Plateau to the north to the humid coast along the Rhavik jungle and beyond.

Where as most of the Ebonwolves were doing their damndest to stay cool and not over-exert themselves on the warmer days between scrambling for jobs on the cooler ones, Kirtok was quite pleased to be picking up all the extra work. The satchel he wore over his kilt was full of coin more often than not, and he had taken the time to splurge a bit on himself. His horns shone in the lamplight of the Last Hill inn from the fresh wax job he'd given them only hours prior.

Kirtok wasn't one to do much more than that, though he frequently saw minotaur who had feathers, beads, and even expensive jewelry dangling from their horns. That wasn't something for him, especially since he used his horns in combat more than he liked to admit. Instead, he took his extra silver and replaced the golden septum ring that he'd lost the night of the fire. The thick, heavy piece of metal dangling from his snout was a comfortable reminder of how far along he'd come in recent months, and how much further he had yet to go to get his land back.

As Kirtok headed into the basement, he could feel the rush of cool air as he went below ground. He opened the door to Conor's office and was greeted by a question.

"How's the leg doing?" Conor asked.

"It's fine," Kirtok said dismissively, wondering how many more times the man was going to ask. Weeks had passed since the fight with the gnolls, and other than a few minor scraps he'd gotten into since then, he was doing just fine. The wound didn't hurt as much as one would think with how much Conor fawned over him like an overprotective father.

Quick to change the subject, Kirtok asked, "Got any new jobs?" The minotaur idly scratched at his chest, debating whether he had time to clean up in the river before getting to work. Nothing was worse than minotaur funk.

Conor asked him to wait a moment as he rifled through some papers, searching for something specific. His brow creased as he looked, until finally he pulled out a single piece of parchment from the mess.

"It seems like you've somehow earned yourself a reputation," Conor said with a smirk. "I was going to show this to you yesterday when it showed up but you were quite hungover."

Kirtok smirked. "Doren is hard to out drink."

Conor barked a laugh. "Don't I know it. I raised the boy a little too well."

Kirtok took the paper from Conor and looked it over. "They want me work at the inn in Mullead?"

"It's alright if you want to turn it down," Conor said quickly. "I can always give it to one of the other boys, but they were asking specifically for the minotaur in the plaid green kilt. Since you're the only minotaur in my guild..." he said, letting his statement hang. "The pay isn't good, but you get free room and board, and three meals a day, so that makes up for it."

"I'll take it. I'm not a thrill seeker like the others," Kirtok said with a grunt. "The lower tier jobs are my favorite."

"I figured you would," Conor admitted. "I imagine you'll be gone for a while so make sure to clean out your room. Don't worry, you'll get it back when you return, but Jenna hates when there's a vacancy she can't use."

"Fine by me," Kirtok huffed. "I'll have to remind her to look after my things while I'm gone." he was only now beginning to enjoy the fruits of his labour from his small herb garden, and taking an extended leave of abscence was a little depressing for him. Jenna could probably use the plants for her own cooking, but he didn't imagine she knew much about how to take care of them.

The next morning, Kirtok left Swifthaven on a carriage bound for Mullead. The driver cut him a deal if he helped escort them, and he was more than happy to act as hired muscle until they arrived. His pack had only the barest essentials, including a few articles of clothing, his guild vest, a new wood axe, and rations for the trip out. He stopped taking Conor's weights with him on his jobs, having long ago out-grown them in favour of the hard labour most of his jobs afforded him.

The spring air as they rode into Mullead was refreshing, and much cleaner smelling than the much more densely populated Swifthaven. The village was more busy than it had been a couple months ago, with many of the farmers from the surrounding land traveling into town now that the snow had melted. Kirtok spent several days after the gnoll ambush in Mullead's infirmary, and he rather liked how quiet it was. There was a lot less here that could aggravate him.

Recalling his time there reminded him of the fight with the gnolls, and more specifically, the fire he had spewed from his mouth. He didn't have any clue where such a power had come from. He wasn't stupid, and could figure out that it must be related to the flame-shaped scar on his face. Something happened in his family's home when the fire struck, and it was having a lasting effect on him.

Kirtok was worried about it, but he wasn't the kind of person to go spilling his feelings to other people. He kept himself well-guarded, even back when he used to spent his nights drinking with Flynn. A Freehorn's problems were his to deal with, and it was disrespectful to dump them on someone else. That didn't mean that Kirtok didn't want a second opinion from a shaman regarding his ailment. However, despite his searching, he was quickly discovering that the Kelmore province lacked a strong, spiritualist presence. It wasn't as if he could trust a human doctor to understand anything about the spirit world, and he knew that it had something to do with his fire conjuring.

With a smoke-spewing snort, Kirtok dismissed the thoughts from his head as his irritation began to build. His tail flicked from side to side a few times before he put a stop to it. He couldn't help thinking that perhaps Flynn had been right. Something did change in him.

Kirtok dismounted from the carriage, paid the driver the remaining silver that he owed him, and headed into the inn. A sign over the door of a pair of feathery wings read "The Peaceful Pegasus". He shook his head at the name. Of course a knorian inn would use a name based on one of their mythological animals.

The minotaur adjusted his vest (which fit even less now that he had built up considerable muscle mass in his arms) and headed inside. The sound of a bell jingled above him, and he wondered how quickly it would start to annoy him. The inside of the inn was quiet, with only a handful of people enjoying a late afternoon meal. The smell of herbs and broth wafted from the back room, making Kirtok's empty stomach growl out of neglect. He took a second whiff of the air, and repressed the urge to sigh in need. Whatever was cooking smelled far better than anything Jenna had ever cooked. Considering that her food was head over hooves better than what Kirtok could make, that was saying something.

As he approached the bar, his hoofsteps made a racket as they clip-clopped across the wooden flooring. The hollow sound indicated a large cellar or basement beneath him, and he made a note to ask about it later. A knorian woman stepped out from the back, wiping her thin hands on an apron before greeting him with a warm smile.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're the minotaur I've been waiting for." She stuck her hand out. "Elsa Faulk. I'm the proprietor of this establishment."

The minotaur gingerly plucked her hand and gave it a light shake. His hand, easily twice the size and thickness of her own, likely would have crushed her bones if he wasn't careful. "Name's Kirtok."

One of Elsa's eyebrows perked, as though confused. "No family name?"

"Used to have one," Kirtok snorted. He bit down on his annoyance before it could develop any further. "It's just Kirtok."

Elsa seemed disappointed with his response, but he couldn't figure out why. She didn't press him any further about the subject, and he was grateful that she didn't. He didn't like being pitied.

Elsa took a moment to compose herself, brushing her long ebony hair out of her eyes and gestured for Kirtok to take a seat at the bar. "Well, welcome to Mullead. You read the job over?"

"Yes," Kirtok replied, pulling the crumpled piece of paper from his pouch. "You wanted me to serve as your barkeep for several weeks, and to train a replacement when someone new was found, right?"

"You're correct. Did you have any questions?"

"A couple. Couldn't anyone do this job? Does a small town like this actually need someone like me?"

Elsa chuckled. "You would think so, but yes we do. I don't just need a bartender. I also need someone who can get rabble-rousers out in a timely manner. The militia rarely come around to this village, and it's just some extra security. You can never be too careful, and I'm tired of having to deal with it myself."

"Looks quiet enough," Kirtok huffed as he glanced out the window.

Elsa smiled at him. "You would be surprised. Are you familiar with tavern work?"

It was Kirtok's turn to grin, "I know my way around a keg, if that's what you mean. I can pick things up quick enough."

"I can go over what we serve later. Nothing quite that fancy, but if you think you can do it, then it won't be a problem."

"Does anyone else work here?"

"No. It'll just be you and me," Elsa said. She moved around behind the counter and grabbed a mug that had been aligned with several others in a row. "I open the bar around sundown, give or take a bit depending on demand. That's when you start, and we'll have you going until closing time. After that, all I ask is that you help me clean up the inn and then you can have a drink and relax until tomorrow. Once in a while I might ask you to go to the market for me, but I generally prefer to handle that myself."

After filling the mug from a keg, Elsa slid the cup along the bar, and it looked as though it was about to slide over the edge. Kirtok rushed to grab it, but he was too slow. Elsa seemed to have more control than he gave her credit for, as it stopped shy of an inch from the ledge, without a drop spilled.

She laughed at his stunned expression. "I won't expect you to do that, and I hope you don't plan on trying to, either. Mullead is peaceful but these farmers know how to leave a mess. No need to add to it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Kirtok lifted the mug to his nose and gave it a good sniff. It had a strong, but sweet aroma. There was something else there that he didn't expect to smell in a honey wine, but he couldn't quite place it. He took a swig of it, swirled it around in his mouth to let the flavours dance on his wide tongue before he swallowed it.

"Interesting," Kirtok muttered, smacking his lips.

"Do you like it?"

"I do. You put berries in it?" he asked.

"It's the house special," Elsa said, her face shining with an almost otherworldly light that seemed fueled by her pride. "Here, let me know you." She beckoned Kirtok to follow her as she headed into the backroom.

The minotaur looked around, seeing a couple patrons in the inn but other than that no one was around. Didn't she need someone to watch the front so someone wouldn't sneak behind the bar? With a shrug, he followed after her. It was her problem if something happened, not his.

The backroom was much hotter than the front, with a large brick oven operating along the wall to his left. A stockpot sat on the top, its contents steaming at a gentle simmer. The warm glow of an alchemical lamp hung from the ceiling and filled the room with its warm glow.

Shelves were set up all along the walls, containing jars full of all manner of foods and spices that Elsa used. Judging by how much was on it, she was more well equipped than the Last Hill. A table opposite the oven had several balls of dough sitting in the open and rising. Elsa went to great lengths to make sure there was food prepared for her guests. It surprised Kirtok to see how much food she had for a small inn in a small village.

Across from him was an open door to the outside. Sunlight poured in, and the chirping of birds could be heard through it as the wind rustled the leaves of a nearby tree. He stepped out into the back garden, shielding his eyes from the sun until they could adjust to the light. When they did, he was surprised by what he saw.

The land before him was as large, if not larger, than the land the inn itself took up. No windows were on this side of the building. A wooden fence lined with rabbit wire stood as tall as Kirtok's shoulders. All around them, the garden was thick with bushes and patches of tilled soil. The minotaur kneeled down to take a closer look, noting that the land looked well taken care of.

"Potatoes... raspberries... tomatoes... onions..." he muttered as he looked it over. "You have a bit of everything in here. You're even on the south face of the inn to catch the most sunlight during the summer months."

"I learned a lot from a friend of mine." Elsa beamed with pride as the minotaur inspected her handiwork. "You sound like you know a bit about gardening."

Kirtok paused, surprised at how much the remark stung. He slowly rose, but didn't turn to face her just yet.

"Once upon a time, I suppose I did." His voice sounded flatter than he intended it to. He swung around and said, "Anything else I should know?"

Elsa motioned for him to head inside, and the pair sat at the bar discussing the finer details of Kirtok's job. He was to be put in charge of maintaining the supplies and bringing them up from the cellar in the afternoon before he would start minding the bar. A room was set aside for him on the upper floor, and he would be the only one with the key so he didn't need to worry about her snooping.

As Kirtok was signing their agreement to accept the job, the door bell jingled as two women stepped in. Elsa waved at them, beckoning both over to where she and Kirtok were sitting.

"Is this the minotaur you were talking about?" the older of the two women said. She offered him a smile when he looked up at her. "Hi there, I'm Fernanda Brede, the school-mistress here in Mullead. And this is Nia Lampson." She gestured to a brunette girl who looked to be no older than five or six years of age. Kirtok had to crane his neck downwards to be able to look her in the eyes. She stared at him with a sense of both wonder and fear. Judging by her reaction, they must not have gotten many minotaur in Mullead.

"Name's Kirtok," he said, shaking Fernanda's thin hands. He noticed that Nia took a few steps back from him, and he was somewhat hurt by it. Was he really that scary to look at?

"You have a fascinating scar on your cheek there," Fernanda remarked. His shoulders tensed, and she quickly added, "I'm sorry for pointing it out, it's simply hard to miss."

"It's fine," Kirtok said. He tried to liven the mood a bit and said, "I lost a bet with someone years ago."

"Did it hurt?"

"A bit," Kirtok lied.

"Anyways Fernanda," Elsa said, changing the topic. She leaned on the counter as she spoke. "What did you stop by for?"

"I wanted to introduce myself to Kirtok and give him a warm welcome to Mullead. Nia volunteered to help me, but now she's all quiet."

"He's just so big..." Nia muttered, so quiet that Kirtok scarcely thought that Elsa or Fernanda heard her.

"Help you with what?" Elsa asked.

"Just a little welcoming gift." Fernanda looked to Nia. "Go ahead. He's not going to bite."

Before Kirtok could even protest the necessity of a gift, Nia lifted up a cloth-covered wicker basket and offered it to him. She quietly muttered that it was for him, and he gently took the basket from her. He removed the cloth, and set it aside.

Inside the basket was a book simply titled The Alchemist, a bottle of wine, a wedge of cheese, and some pastries that still smelled as though they'd come out of the oven only a few moments ago.

Remembering his manners, Kirtok said, "Thank you for the gift, little one."

The girl nodded, but said nothing.

"I hope you like the book. I'm not sure if you're one for reading, but it's one of my favorites," Fernanda said.

"I've spent a night or two reading before. Thank you."

"Would you like to stay for tea?" Elsa asked her. "I could have the kettle ready in a couple minutes."

"I would love to, but I need to get Nia home first and tidy up the school house. The children left quite a mess." She turned to Kirtok. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Thank you again for the gift," Kirtok said. He wished they hadn't gotten him anything, but he knew knorians were big on gift-giving in their culture. It would have been more offensive for him to turn it down even if he was being modest. Fernanda and Nia waved goodbye as they headed out, and then it was back to just him and Elsa.

Kirtok picked up his belongings and said, "I should get settled before tonight. Where will my room be?"

"Right," Elsa said, snapping her fingers and remembering their earlier discussion before Fernanda's interruption. "Top floor, last door on the left. I had that room and the one across from it tailored to a minotaur's larger size, in case I ever have any patrons. I hope the bed is big enough. Get yourself settled. I won't need you for a few hours yet."