"I'm heading out, Petra!"

The bar maid poked her head out over the counter at hearing her name and waved fondly at the departing young man.

"I'll be back as soon I've delivered these to Shaemoor." He gave her a mock salute and was out the door.

Petra leaned back and resumed her casual polishing of the bar. It was early in the day and there were no patrons needing her attention. Her father was also out, buying supplies rather than delivering, so it was just her in the empty tavern. For the moment she was alone with both her cleaning and her daydreams.

She smiled fondly as she recalled how Mikel had first come to them nearly four years back. He had caused quite the stir in their quiet little inn. He was a man who could by turns fade completely into the background or command the utmost attention of everyone in the room. That day he had done a little of both.

He had entered the tavern when the evening rush had died down to the last few determined drinkers. At first his appearance had drawn all eyes to him. He was tall and lean, dressed in the long coat of a scholar, though his boots were clearly made for travel. He carried nothing but a single long knife at his belt. Petra too had stared for a long moment when he entered. His short cropped hair was the most astonishing shade of silvery purple she had ever seen. The eyes beneath the matching purple brows were a deep grey, and they swept the tavern with a cautious intensity. His face was tired and drawn as he made his way towards the bar. That was what at last turned most of the patrons away from their staring. Underneath his odd appearance, this young man was just another guy down on his luck and looking for a little relief from reality.

"Welcome, lad." Petra's father Andrew greeting him heartily from behind the bar. "You looking for a hot meal or a cold ale?"

The young man paused at the stool at the end of the bar, but didn't sit. "Neither, I'm looking for work." His voice too was quiet and tired.

Petra set her tray of empty mugs on the counter even as Andrew sighed heavily. "Ah, sorry. This time of year my daughter Petra and I aren't near busy enough to need more help. It's been so lean this winter, that I'm not sure we can afford a hand even when summer comes. Have you tried the craftsmen? One of them might take a willing hand as an assistant."

The young man nodded resignedly. "It's been a lean year for everyone." It seemed then that he would leave as suddenly as he came, but instead he reached one hand into a pocket of his coat. When he pulled it out a handful of coins lay in his palm. He stared at them a long moment, then finally set one upon the counter and replaced the rest. "One mug."

Andrew smiled warmly and slid a mug of their home brewed ale to the young man as he settled onto the stool. "The name's Andrew. If I can't offer you work, I can at least offer you friendly company."

"Thanks." The young man smiled faintly himself. "I'm Mikel."

"I'm Petra." She sidled up on the other side of the newcomer. She couldn't help it, she always was curious about new people. "Where are you from?"

Mikel looked a little perplexed by her question, then answered with a chuckle. "I live across the street actually."

"Oh, but I thought...I mean you...?" Petra trailed off before her tongue could get her into trouble. She had assumed by his clothes and lack of a job he had come from somewhat further away. She had certainly never seen him in the neighborhood before.

"It's alright. I've been away in the Ascalon Settlement for the last year or so. I guess it shows more than I thought."

"Oh." Petra tried to come up with something to save the conversation, but it was her father that came to her rescue.

"Ah, visiting relatives there, lad?"

A strange look flitted across Mikel's face at the question, but he answered readily. "Sort of. My foster family is originally from there."

Well there was a story in that, Petra had no doubt, but the look on Mikel's face told her this was one instance where she shouldn't pry.

"That's why I am looking for work, though." He went on as if the awkward moment hadn't happened. "I was an assistant to a tailor before I left, but after being gone so long and what with the hard winter..."

"It's been rough on everyone, no mistake." Andrew said solemnly. "Between that and the centaurs, I'm hard pressed to deliver any of my brew to our customers outside the city."

Petra moved off to answer a call for more ale from one of the back tables and missed Mikel's answer to that. She wondered if they might have a spot for him after all. He said he had just returned from the Ascalon Settlement, and that was as dangerous a road as any these days. Clearly he could take care of himself, could he not also take care of a shipment of ale?

By the time she returned to the bar, her father was regaling Mikel with their life story.

"...and after my wife died, little Petra became the woman of the inn. And a right good job of it she's done too. I keep telling her she needs to find a man to settle down with, but she says someone has to look after me. Ha! As if I was the one of us with the spitfire temper, eh daughter?"

"Papa stop!" Petra scolded playfully. This happened a lot with newcomers to the tavern.

Mikel was laughing softly. When she glared at him he winked at her slyly. Petra felt her face heat up infuriatingly.

"Don't encourage him." She turned her mock scolding on the still chuckling young man. "I get enough teasing from him without him adopting you to join in"

Mikel sobered almost immediately and instantly Petra was kicking herself. She had completely forgotten his earlier comment about foster parents.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright, really." He cut her off gently, but his expression was hidden as he took another swig of his ale. "I'm not offended. I'm just kind of jealous."

"Of this big lug?" Petra waved her tray at her father and tried to lighten the mood again.

"Of both of you." Mikel smiled sadly and pinned her with those grey eyes. "I never knew my parents. I was left at the orphanage down the street when I was an infant."

"Oy wench!" A drunken voice interrupted from behind her. "You wanna stop making eyes at your new boyfriend an' bring me another?"

Petra felt her face heat up again, this time from anger, as she turned to answer. But the sneering drunk wasn't finished.

"Just 'cause you want to jump 'im don't mean you can forget about me!"

Mikel's voice cut through the drunken slur like cold steel. "Mind what you say to the lady."

The drunk gaped at the young man for a moment. Mikel stared back over his shoulder, his grey eyes as hard as his voice.

"You know the rules, Jarin." Andrew cut in calmly, but still stern. "Anyone who talks to my daughter like that is cut off. Go home and sober up."

Jarin's stare turned from gaping to belligerent. "What Andrew? You're letting this boy run your inn now?"

At that both Petra and her father stiffened. When he spoke again, Andrew's voice was cold.

"That's enough of that. Go on home now." He edged himself to the end of the bar, ready to move out from behind it if Jarin decided to try anything physical. The drunk was the only patron left besides Mikel and Petra was glad of that at least. When times were bad a lot of people came and drank more than they should just to forget. Bar fights had been something of a problem lately.

"I got as much right to be here as him!" Jarin stomped up to the bar and thrust his chest forward. Petra edged backwards to give her father room to step in. Jarin wasn't a big man, but he was younger than Andrew and drunk beyond reason to boot. Ms. Timber was stashed out of reach behind the bar, and Petra wasn't about to get involved without her weapon in hand.

Andrew's reply was cut off by the distinct sound of metal against leather. All eyes went to Mikel who had turned on his stool to face Jarin finally and had furthermore drawn his knife halfway out of its sheath.

Jarin grinned at the challenge. "You seem to like steppin' in where you shouldn't, boy. You sure you wanna make somethin' outta this?"

Petra drew back even further, certain now that a messy fight was inevitable.

"Now lad, there's no call for that." Andrew remained where he was behind the bar, but one hand was snaking down towards Ms. Timber. "Just put the knife away, and Jarin you go on home."

"Aww let 'im, Andrew!" Jarin crowed and moved closer. "Let this scrawny kid dig his own grave!"

Petra wasn't quite sure what happened then, but though Mikel didn't move an inch, a cold blue light sprung up around his left hand, the hand that still held the hilt of his half-sheathed knife. Petra shuddered in a sudden chill, but that was nothing compared to what happened to Jarin. His drunken posturing turned almost immediately into pitiful shivering. He swung a fist wildly at Mikel, who easily stepped off his stool and out of the way. His left hand never left the hilt of his knife, and the knife never left its sheath fully. Within another few seconds, Jarin's lips had turned blue and he was hugging his arms to his chest. With a final snarl at them all, he turned and stomped out of the tavern, still shivering violently. Andrew gave one alarmed look at Mikel, then followed Jarin out the door. Mikel dropped his knife back into his sheath and instantly warmth returned to the room.

It took her several tries, but at last Petra found her voice. "Wow."

Mikel's grey eyes were fixed on the floor. "I probably shouldn't have gotten involved."

That undid the cork on her words. "Are you kidding? That was amazing!"

Mikel flinched, but didn't have a chance to respond as just then Andrew returned. His face was carefully blank.

"He'll be fine." Mikel said, still not looking up. "The spell won't leave any lasting harm. I didn't hit either of you, did I?"

"No." Andrew replied, his voice strangely stilted as if he was wrestling with a decision. "At least, not like Jarin. He was already warming when he got outside anyways. He's headed home."

"Good." Mikel nodded and turned towards the door. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

Petra looked to her father, waiting for him to say something to call Mikel back. Surely he wouldn't let him just walk out after helping them like that, would he?

"Jarin won't likely be giving us any more trouble for a while." Andrew called out to Mikel's retreating back. His words were punctuated by the thunk of a full mug hitting the bar. When he spoke again, his voice was warm. "Have another mug on me as thanks, and tell me more about yourself, lad. I could maybe use an elementalist around here to keep the peace."

By the end of the night, they had hired him, and he'd been with them ever since. He was soon more like a member of the family than just another hired hand. Since he'd admitted to having no real family of his own, Petra and her father had unanimously decided to make him a part of theirs. He helped wherever he could, making deliveries, picking up supplies, and he was always the first to act when patrons got out of hand.

Petra sighed and traded her washrag for a broom. She was in for a lonely morning of cleaning with both her father and her might-as-well-be-a-brother out on errands. At least this time it was only a short delivery to nearby Shaemoor. They had quickly discovered that Mikel had wandering feet. Though his original reason for going to the Ascalon Settlement all those years ago was to help his foster mother move back there after her husband had died, the reason he stayed a year was because he was exploring the nearby countryside. Even with all he did at the inn, he still frequently disappeared, occasionally for days at a time. Sometimes he told them where he was going, and sometimes he didn't even know himself. By now he had to have wandered the whole of Kryta, she thought, but he could always find somewhere else he hadn't yet been.

Still, as often as he left, he returned and he almost always brought gifts from people he had aided along the way. He would laugh off their worry and settle right back into the work of the inn. There was something in him that, just like on that first night, wouldn't let him turn away when he saw something wrong. Something fierce in him took over and he'd throw himself in to help. Petra loved him for it, but secretly thought it would someday get him killed. Still, the letters and gifts proved that she wasn't the only one to admire his noble heart, no matter how gruff and dismissing he got about it afterwards. She never would understand how he could dislike showing off his magic so much, and then use it with complete abandon as soon as he saw someone in trouble.

Petra's musing was interrupted by the tavern door slamming open to admit her father. She was about to chide him for his rough entrance, but stopped dead at seeing the look on his face.

"Papa? Why are you back so early? What's happened?"

He was out of breath as if he'd been running. Finally he breathed out, "There's trouble in Shaemoor!"

"What?"

"The garrison's been attacked by Tamini. Some have gotten as far as the village." He leaned his hands against the wall, still short of breath. "Captain Thackeray and the Seraph are there, but he sent a desperate call for reinforcements, that's how I heard. They say there's some kind of giant stone creature conjured by the Tamini attacking the garrison!"

"That's-" Petra's voice failed her as she realized the real reason her father looked so afraid. "That's where Mikel went!"

Her father nodded grimly as he leaned against the wall. "The lad's surely gone to the garrison already."

"Dwayna look out for him." She whispered the prayer softly. She too knew that Mikel wouldn't hesitate for an instant to help the Seraph at the garrison. She loved him for it, but still secretly believed it would one day get him killed. She could only pray that it was not this day.