"Very good, thank you," Bill answered politely.
"Then I won't disturb you any further. Enjoy your meal."
David gave a small bow and left with the serving boy, pulling the door shut behind them.
The moment the latch clicked, John crossed to the door, crouched slightly, and peered through the narrow gap between door and frame. Only when he was satisfied did he straighten and return to the table.
Bill said nothing about the precaution. He simply waved his man over. "Whew! This fish soup is excellent. Come on, sit down and eat. We've been on our feet all day."
He lifted the earthenware bowl to his lips and took a long, appreciative swallow.
John didn't need telling twice. He dropped into the chair opposite, picked up his own bowl, and dug in.
Though they were officially master and servant, the two men had long since become something closer to business partners—Bill handling sales and deals, John managing logistics and security.
After a mouthful of soup, John set the bowl down and reached for the grilled sausage. "Now that we're settled for the night, what's the plan? We still have a bit of coin left, but it's our working capital. We can't keep spending like this forever."
Bill lowered the seafood risotto he'd been about to eat, cheeks still full. "I've already thought it through," he mumbled around the food. "Tomorrow you and I head to the city hall first thing and lock in that land plot. After that we'll focus on selling the beer we brought. I asked around on the docks today—beer is flying off the shelves here. Prince Gaemon banned brewing on his lands to protect the grain supply, so everything has to be imported. Prices are high and stock is low. Our barrels should fetch a nice profit."
John's spoon paused mid-air. "If the prince won't allow brewing, then our whole plan to open a brewery is dead in the water."
Bill waved the concern away, perfectly relaxed. "Don't panic. I knew that was a possibility from the start. We didn't come here married to the idea of a brewery. Oros is wide open right now—every trade is growing. We'll start with something else, make our money, and when the prince finally lifts the ban we'll switch back to what we know. The important thing is to seize this moment and grow big. We're here to stack gold dragons, not cling to one idea."
John relaxed a fraction but still pressed, "If we're doing something else, what did you have in mind? I need to know so I can start preparing."
"I haven't decided yet," Bill admitted. "We'll spend the next few days walking every street in Oros and riding the surrounding countryside. Once we understand the lay of the land and what people actually need, we'll sit down and pick the best opportunity. No rush tonight. Eat your fill, get a good night's sleep, and we'll handle tomorrow when it comes."
With that, Bill attacked the rest of his meal with gusto.
John knew that tone. Over the years they had developed a clear division of labor: Bill made the big calls, John made sure they stayed alive while he did it. If Bill said they'd figure it out after looking around, then that was the plan. No point arguing.
The knot of worry in John's chest eased. His stomach growled in agreement, and he finally gave the food his full attention.
The night passed quietly.
The next morning, Bill and John rose at first light, splashed cold water on their faces, rinsed their mouths, and called it a wash. Noblemen might have their scented soaps and servants, but two working men on the road had no such luxuries.
As they came down the stairs, David was already behind the counter, bright-eyed and smiling.
"Good morning, sirs! Sleep well? I've got fresh bread and barley porridge hot from the kitchen. Best to fill your bellies before you head out—keeps a man steady."
Bill and John exchanged a glance and nodded. They took a table in the modest common room. The wood was plain but scrubbed clean.
Bill raised a hand. "Innkeep, two mugs of beer first. Mouth feels like I swallowed dust overnight."
"Coming right up!"
Moments later two foaming mugs arrived alongside steaming bowls of porridge and a basket of sliced white bread. Bill layered a thick slice of bread with a piece of fried smoked meat, topped it with another slice, and took a huge bite. When the beer reached him he drained half the mug in one go.
"Ahhh…" He let out a satisfied belch, then added out of pure habit, "Barley beer—watered down a bit too much during the brewing. Flavor's a touch thin."
John kicked him under the table. "Enough. This isn't your brewery. Don't go criticizing another man's ale in his own house. I think it tastes fine. Hurry up and eat. We're supposed to go to the city hall, remember? Any later and we'll be standing in line all morning."
Bill blinked, realized what he'd done, and shut his mouth. They were newcomers here; the last thing they needed was to make enemies over something as small as beer.
The two men finished their breakfast in silence. No one else in the common room paid them any mind. When they were done, they stood, nodded politely to David, and stepped out into the bright morning streets of Oros.
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