Fable - Ask Wolf Among Sheep

[Kazar]

Kaz sat hunched over in the corner of the dimly lit tavern. He towered over the other patrons but his body was a mixture of grace and raw power, honed through years of survival. A mug of ale, thick with the scent of bitter barley and hops, was gripped tightly in his massive hand, the amber liquid swirling lazily as he turned it over and took another swig. The warmth of the alcohol burned its way down his throat, dulling the gnawing ache of hunger and the quiet, constant anxiety that had settled into his bones since he first arrived in Gild.

He had been in the city for three days now, and the word on the street was starting to settle in his mind. Refugee, outcast, desperate. He had kept his head down, avoided eye contact, and never let his size intimidate too much. The people here were wary of anyone like him - a giant of few words with too many secrets. Kaz was no fool; he knew he couldn't hide forever. Gild was a city that prided itself on its religion, the faith of Jura, and Kaz had already heard enough to know what was expected. The religion that denounced magic, that idolized the purity of mortal strength. He could feel the weight of that expectation settling over him. He had hidden his magic well so far, his geomancy, a gift of earth and stone, had been silenced for years. He couldn’t risk the discovery now, not in a place that would burn him alive if they knew.

A group of rough men sat in the far corner, discussing the city’s latest dilemma: a growing population of mages who were hiding within the walls. They were calling for mage hunters, specialized mercenaries to root out those who could wield magic and bring them to justice. The bounty was hefty, and the men spoke eagerly, their eyes glinting with greed.

“Pay’s good, though,” one of them said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Word is, they’ll give you more than enough to buy a damn estate if you catch one of the bastards.”

Kaz felt his jaw tighten, the muscles in his neck rippling with the tension. His fingers gripped his mug harder, the wood groaning under his touch. They had no idea, of course. No idea that the one they were discussing was sitting right here in their midst, carefully hidden beneath layers of fabric, his power dormant. They spoke as though he was just some distant threat, a rumor. They didn't know that magic could slip through the earth itself, wrap itself around them like an unseen hand, if he so willed it. They didn’t know that he could level a building, break a city’s bones with nothing more than a whisper of his mind.

He took another long gulp from his mug, trying to calm the heat in his chest. He had made a decision when he crossed the gates of Gild - a simple choice to hide, to pretend. But now the time was approaching when he'd have to decide: to turn his back on everything he was, or to find a way to make it work. If he joined their ranks, if he pretended to convert, he could keep his head low for a while longer. But there were no guarantees. Not here, not with the kind of people who would sacrifice anyone to maintain their perfect faith.

 

[Baise]

Avoiding the use of magic was easy enough. Baise had gone for a very long time without having any power over it. He had been in the fae realms for hundreds of years mastering his arts as a warlock for his lover. He was still out there, but Baise had turned his back on the courts after everything that had happened.

It was more difficult to deal with a young boy who liked to talk to strangers and a trio of ravens who followed them everywhere.

In a religious city that persecuted anything magically, he was afraid they were persecute anything "strange". Baise was wearing his most muted garments as he entered the tavern. A black coat with scarlet hand stitching was the least flamboyant thing he owned.

“Pay’s good, though,” one of them said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Word is, they’ll give you more than enough to buy a damn estate if you catch one of the bastards.”

He kept one hand on Baise's shoulder as he made for the bar. They were talking a our finding mages within the city walls. Gild was a great stopping point before heading north into the spine but he was starting to regret the decision.

"Do you have any rooms?" Baise asked politely. "And is that a stew over the fire?"

 

[Kazar]

Kaz glanced at the bubbling stew pot with a quiet rumble of his stomach, but he wasn’t sure how much of it he could take without looking like a glutton. His hand slowly slid a few coins across the counter, just enough to signal his request.

As the worker ladled the stew into his bowl, Kaz tried to gauge how much he could take before anyone noticed. A man of his size needed food to match the strength that his muscles carried. It was a delicate balance - eat too much, and they might call him out, but eat too little and he’d still be hungry later. He shoveled a decent portion onto his plate, careful not to take the last of it, and then awkwardly leaned back, forcing himself to eat slowly. It was harder than it sounded when your stomach rumbled like a distant thunderclap.

The door opened with a creak, and Kaz’s attention was momentarily diverted to the newcomer, a figure wearing muted black garb with scarlet hand stitching. The coat was nondescript, but there was something in the way the man carried himself. Kaz’s keen eyes didn’t miss the young boy at his side, nor the unsettling trio of ravens that appeared to be watching their every move. He furrowed his brow but returned his focus to his meal, the tang of the stew cutting through the air.

It wasn’t long before the same man from earlier, the one who’d been talking about mage hunters, stood up and walked over to Kaz, a grin on his face. Kaz looked up slowly, his hand still holding the spoon, eyes narrowing slightly.

“A man your size could probably earn a shiny coin as a hunter,” the patron remarked, voice laced with a mix of curiosity and opportunism. Kaz’s mouth twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, his deep voice rumbling low. He glanced over at the door, watching the man and the boy move towards the bar.

The patron chuckled, clearly not getting the hint, but Kaz didn’t care. The more he kept his distance from the ongoing conversation, the better. He needed to stay in the shadows, especially now, with magic on his mind and the reality of Gild’s strict religious laws weighing on him.

His attention flicked back to the newcomer, noting how the worker behind the bar seemed to mention a room. Kaz listened intently as the worker’s words reached his ears, tinged with irritation. "... two rooms left, but I don’t want any nonsense from the kid or those birds," the worker had said.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Kaz finished his stew and set the empty bowl down. He wiped his mouth, his eyes shifting once more toward the newcomer and his young companion. There was something about them, something that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the crowd. Ravens didn’t hover around people like that by accident. From the looks of it, several other patrons eyed them suspiciously as well.

 

[Baise]

"... two rooms left, but I don’t want any nonsense from the kid or those birds," the worker had said.

Baise grimaced. He glanced across his shoulder.

"I fed those things a scrap of bread and the stupid things..."

Caw!

"...the stupid things followed me in. Get the door please Jude."

The three ravens flapped out of the door when Baise waved his hands at them. When the locals were being whipped up to hate anything strange they were not helping him.

Baise hoped they might turn a blind eye to a young child. He didn't need to do anything magical to draw any further attention.

Baise glanced around the tavern. Lots of eyes followed him back to the bar. He was carefully to draw a few coins from inside his jacket without angling his coin purse.

"I'll take a room for two nights please. We'll have some stew now," he said. He waved Jude towards an empty table and the child tottered off towards it.

 

[Kazar]

Baise got his room, but the staring didn’t stop.

Kaz leaned back in his chair, his towering form filling the corner of the tavern as he slowly swirled the last dregs of ale in his mug. His gaze flicked over, noting how the newcomer’s presence stirred the room like a stone dropped into still water with the ravens. Eyes followed him, whispers passing between the locals. Kaz couldn’t help but notice the scrutiny, the way the patrons couldn’t seem to tear their gaze away from the man and a child in tow.

The air grew heavier with each passing moment, the tension palpable. Kaz, ever aware of the weight of his own presence, shifted slightly, his chair creaking under his bulk. His eyes narrowed, taking in the little scene before him. This wasn’t a place for the strange, and certainly not for those who might attract unwanted attention.

With a deep, rumbling scoff, Kaz slammed his mug down on the table. His voice boomed across the tavern, cutting through the quiet murmurs like a battering ram. “Oi! Is everyone just sitting around, wonderin’ if they’ll buy the pretty man a drink? Because I’ll take a few instead.”

The room fell instantly silent, and a dozen pairs of eyes darted away in unison. Some of the patrons awkwardly cleared their throats, others shuffled in their seats, trying their best to ignore the giant man who had just shattered their careful observation. The tension in the air dissolved into uncomfortable coughs and averted gazes.

Kaz leaned back with a satisfied grunt, reaching for his mug once more. He took a long pull, savoring the moment as the patrons, now thoroughly chastened, returned to their conversations.

Not so tough when you’re looking at a real problem, huh? he thought to himself, scoffing as he swirled the mug again. There was nothing like using sheer size to remind the city folk that they were, at best, insects beneath his feet. Nothing like a little intimidation to silence the room.

He chuckled softly under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, and focused back on the mug in his hand.