The inn was packed with travelers—merchants, sellswords, and messengers all seeking warmth, food, and strong ale after a long day’s journey.

  At one corner table, four men sat drinking, deep in discussion.

  And the topic of the night?

  Lord Lucian Veilwood of Duskwatch.

  "I tell you, Lord Veilwood is a strategic mastermind!" one merchant insisted, slamming his mug on the table.

  "Nonsense," another scoffed. "I heard he’s just incredibly lucky."

  "Bah! Luck? You don’t get the Mercenary King to swear loyalty by accident!"

  "He didn’t swear loyalty," a third merchant interrupted. "He just took a job."

  The first merchant leaned in, lowering his voice.

  "That’s what they want you to think. But do you really believe Varian Blackthorn, the most feared mercenary in the empire, would work for half his price unless he saw true power?"**

  The skeptical merchant rolled his eyes.

  "Or maybe Veilwood just… made a good deal?"

  The others looked at him as if he had spoken blasphemy.

  The first merchant continued, warming up to his own tale.

  "Listen, I’ve spoken to traders who saw the man firsthand. He doesn’t rule like a normal noble. He barely speaks! Yet everything goes exactly the way he wants!"

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  The second merchant nodded seriously.

  "It’s true. They say he commands without commands. His people know what to do before he even speaks."

  The skeptical merchant snorted.

  "That sounds ridiculous."

  "Oh? And what about the bandits?" the first merchant challenged.

  The skeptical merchant raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

  The third merchant grinned.

  "There aren’t any. Lord Veilwood made them disappear."

  The skeptical merchant crossed his arms. "You’re telling me he wiped out an entire bandit faction?"

  The first merchant shook his head.

  "No, no. That’s the strange part—he didn’t. He just… made Duskwatch unrobbable."

  The second merchant leaned in, eyes wide.

  "I heard a bandit tried to rob a trader… and the trader knocked him out and offered him a business deal instead."

  The skeptical merchant blinked. "What."

  The third merchant nodded sagely.

  "I heard a thief tried to break into the treasury, and instead of arresting him, Veilwood gave him advice on better lockpicking techniques… and the thief was so horrified he fled the city."

  The skeptical merchant opened his mouth, then closed it.

  …That didn’t sound real.

  And yet, the conviction in their voices was unsettling.

  And henceworth began a series of senseless rumours.

  "That’s nothing," the first merchant said, waving a hand. "Did you hear about the battle?"

  The skeptical merchant narrowed his eyes. "What battle?"

  "The one where he defeated an entire army without lifting a finger!"

  The skeptical merchant leaned forward. "Alright, I have to hear this."

  The first merchant grinned.

  "So there was this noble—Duke Reinhardt, or maybe Count Devereaux, doesn’t matter—who sent a force to ‘test’ Duskwatch’s defenses. They wanted to see if Veilwood was weak."

  The skeptical merchant nodded. "Go on."

  "So the soldiers march toward Duskwatch, expecting no resistance."

  "And?"

  "And before they even arrive, Lord Veilwood sends one messenger."

  The skeptical merchant frowned. "What did the message say?"

  The first merchant leaned in, voice deadly serious.

  "It just said, ‘Turn back. I don’t like unnecessary problems.’"

  The skeptical merchant stared. "…And that worked?"

  The first merchant nodded.

  "The soldiers retreated immediately."

  A long silence followed.

  Then the skeptical merchant exhaled slowly.

  "…I hate that I’m starting to believe this."

  At a nearby table, a cloaked figure quietly sipped his drink, listening to every word.

  He had been sent to gather intelligence on Duskwatch.

  Instead, he had found legend.

  He finished eating, placed a coin on the table, and stood to leave.

  He had a report to write.