The golden hour had come to an end. The sun fell far beyond the horizon, painting the canvas above in a deep blue and purple hue, with speckling stars that seemed to dance above the trees.

  The air flowed with the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl—whatever this world's variation of it might be—while the howl of wolves echoed through the darkness.

  Johan's journey led him to a wooden structure with ivy creeping up its pillars. In faded, bold paint, the letters on the sign spelled out something he was dying to see.

  "Finally, I made it. The Den of Wolves."

  Johan approached the tavern after what felt like a lifetime traversing the forest. Each step up the creaking wooden steps brought him closer to the goal of finding Ludolf.

  He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The dim glow of the tavern's interior welcomed Johan, along with the thick scent of ale and the hearty aroma of the served meals.

  The tavern's seating was full, occupied by adventurers engaged in lively conversations. The waitress hurried around, and the barkeeps bustled behind the counter, serving drinks with practiced ease.

  As he walked through, the hum of conversations began to simmer. Many adventurers turned their heads curiously as he passed, their voices lowering to murmurs, exchanging nosy glances questioning Johan's identity and speculating about his origins.

  Yeah, I want no trouble with any of these guys, Johan thought as he sat at the worn wooden bar, leaning against the polished surface.

  Scanning the tavern, a very diverse set of individuals gathered there. Hailing from all walks of life and species.

  Orcs, Lizard-folk, Dwarves, even animal-human hybrids, their attire ranging from rugged adventurers in worn leather to others sporting chainmail armor and finely dressed nobles trimmed in silks and jewels.

  Yet, despite their differences, Johan could tell they all shared a common purpose: seeking relaxation and camaraderie within the walls of the Den of Wolves.

  Behind the bar counter stood one of the barkeepers, a stout figure with a grizzled beard and weathered features that spoke of a life lived amid the hustle and bustle of the tavern. He wore a simple apron over his sturdy clothes, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered with tattoos hinting at tales untold.

  With a welcoming smile, he approached Johan, his eyes curious yet friendly as he leaned against the counter. "What can I get for ya?" he asked, his voice filled with warmth and hospitality.

  Johan shook his head. "Nothing for me, thank you."

  Mindful of his lack of funds, Johan observed the people around him exchanging coins of unfamiliar currency with the other barkeeps. The money they used was unlike anything he had ever seen, with complex designs and foreign symbols that never existed in his world.

  "Actually, is water free?" Johan asked, calculating his options. With a sheepish smile, he added, "If it is, I'll just have a glass if that's alright."

  The barkeep arched an eyebrow. "Water, eh?" he chuckled. "Strange choice for a place like this, don't you think?"

  Johan laughed at the barkeep's scrutiny. "Yeah, I suppose it is," he admitted, scratching his head. "But I've been traveling for a while. I could use something to quench my thirst."

  "Fair enough," the barkeep nodded understandingly, pouring a generous serving of water into a clean glass before sliding it across the counter to Johan. "But you're missing out on some of the finest brews this side of the kingdom."

  Johan gave him a grateful nod, ignoring his comment. "This isn't poison, right?"

  The barkeep let out a booming laugh. "You ordered water, not ale."

  "True," Johan chuckled before taking a long sip of the cool, refreshing liquid.

  As he drank, he couldn't help but admire the simple pleasure of something as mundane as water, especially after his long journey through the forest.

  Johan sipped his water, but the barkeep's eyes continued to study him.

  "So, stranger," the barkeep began casually, "I remember all the faces that step inside this tavern. I've never seen you here. What brings you to the Den of Wolves? You know, we're practically in the middle of nowhere, and it seems like you're a long way from home, that's for sure."

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  Johan shifted uncomfortably on his stool, his mind searching for a plausible answer.

  "Oh, you know, I'm just passing through. I figured I'd stop and rest up a bit before I continue on my journey."

  The barkeep's eyes narrowed slightly, and Johan felt a surge of unease creep up his spine.

  "Is that so?" the barkeep mused, his tone deceptively light. "Well, you must be quite the adventurer to end up here dressed like that. Your attire's not exactly common around these parts."

  Johan's heart skipped a beat. He could give no convincing explanation for his clothing besides telling the truth of his summoning. But, before he could respond, the barkeep slowly reached beneath the counter and drew a gleaming blade, setting it down with a deliberate clink.

  Johan's pulse quickened as he met the barkeep's steely gaze. The sword on the counter was more than enough to convince him. He had no choice. He had to tell the truth.

  "Can't get anything by you, huh?" Johan replied. "Of course not, right?"

  "Stop beating around the bush and answer my question," the barkeep said, placing his hand on the sword's hilt.

  "Alright, you got me..." Johan admitted. "So, I'm looking for someone."

  Johan knew the only way he could collect information on Ludolf's whereabouts was to stay out of trouble.

  The barkeep's expression softened slightly as he slid the sword back beneath the counter.

  "Is that so? Well, you've certainly picked an interesting place to look. Go ask around."

  "Thanks, I will..." Johan replied.

  "But, this is your only warning. We don't take kindly to liars and troublemakers."

  Johan nodded before a thought hit him like a nail on the head. "I'll ask you first." He leaned in closer, his voice hushed as he spoke. "Ludolf. I'm looking for him. I was told I'll find him here."

  The barkeep's forehead wrinkled at Johan's words. Crossing his burly arms over his chest, he repeated, slow and deliberate, "Ludolf, eh? Hmm, I can't say I have. The name isn't ringing bells."

  Great. First wolves, now this. If this Ludolf doesn't exist, I'm going to have some strong words for Elara, Johan thought.

  "And you know everyone that comes through here, right?" Johan pressed on, and the barkeep nodded.

  Was Elara wrong? Had he been sent on a wild goose chase?

  Johan clenched his fists on the counter, and the barkeep's eyes drifted to Johan's hand—and stopped.

  "What's that?" The barkeep's voice dropped.

  Johan followed his gaze, realizing the barkeep's attention was focused on the ring around his finger. The ring with the royal insignia of Raignald caught the dim light of the tavern.

  "This?" Johan asked, attempting to cover the ring. "It's—"

  The barkeep's expression darkened. "That's no ordinary ring. That's the Raignald crest. Clear as day. Where'd you get it?"

  "Princess Elara gave it to me," he explained, meeting the barkeep's gaze. "It's proof that I'm here on her behalf."

  "Princess Elara?" the barkeep snorted. Her name alone shifted his demeanor. "Proof, you say. And what business would the princess of the Raignald Kingdom have with Ludolf?"

  Johan was unsure how much more to reveal, especially since he knew the king's men would look for him. He had to deal with the barkeep's casual dismissal but couldn't back down. He had to leverage the situation.

  "It's a private matter. Urgent as well."

  "Private, huh?" The barkeep chuckled darkly. "You've got a funny way of being discreet, kid. Coming in here, asking for someone like Ludolf by name. You must have no idea who you're dealing with."

  "The princess sent me here on a mission to find Ludolf. I have a message to deliver. It's a complicated matter for his ears only."

  The barkeep let out a loud chuckle that brought the attention of the tavern onto him for a mere second. "And you're telling me that Princess Elara gave you this mission instead of someone more competent?"

  Johan's frustration boiled over. "Why does it matter to you?!" he shot back. "You just said you don't know who Ludolf is! So why are you so interested?!"

  The barkeep leaned forward, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "You'd have to be a fool not to know who Ludolf is. You're walking into my tavern, flaunting the seal of the Raignalds, and you expect me not to ask questions?"

  "So, where is he? Cause it damn sure sounds like you know him," Johan whispered back, refusing to take a loss in this battle of grit.

  "You got some spunk to you," the barkeep said as he straightened himself before turning toward the other end of the bar. "Mikel," he barked, addressing a timid young man wiping down glasses nearby.

  "Yes, sir?" Mikel replied.

  "Watch the place for me. I'm stepping out for a bit."

  Mikel nodded quickly. "You got it."

  Meanwhile, the barkeep took off his apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the counter.

  "Hey, where are you going? We're not done here," Johan stated, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.

  The barkeep turned back to him. "You want to see Ludolf? Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

  Johan frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Means you're in over your head, kid," the barkeep replied, already heading toward the tavern door. He paused and glanced back. "You coming or not?"

  Johan hesitated, glancing around the tavern. The murmurs of the others seemed louder now, their eyes flicking toward him with thinly veiled curiosity. He realized he didn't have much of a choice.

  "Yeah," Johan said finally, sliding off his stool. "Lead the way."

  The barkeep pushed the heavy wooden door open, stepping out into the cool night air. Johan followed closely as the door closed behind him.

  "Where exactly are we going?" Johan asked.

  "You'll see soon enough," the barkeep replied, his tone cryptic. "Just keep your wits about you, kid. Ludolf doesn't take kindly to strangers. If you're really here on Elara's behalf, you'd better hope he's in a good mood tonight."

  "...That's good to know," Johan said as he followed the barkeep into the darkness, the faint hum of the tavern fading behind them.

  Whatever lay ahead, he knew one thing for sure—there was no turning back now.