Building a Harem in a Noble House

Chapter 97: Clear Interest...?

Meredith pushed open the heavy oaken door of the tavern, the familiar creak blending into the raucous symphony of laughter, clinking mugs, and the strum of a lute from the corner Bard. The tavern was a hive of activity, as ever, its low-beamed ceiling alive with the flicker of oil lamps that cast warm, golden pools across scarred wooden tables crowded with patrons from every walk of Eldridge’s teeming life. Merchants in fine velvets rubbed shoulders with off-duty guards in dented leather, while a gaggle of apprentices huddled over steaming bowls of stew, their faces flushed from the day’s labors. The air was thick with the hearty aroma of roasted mutton, fresh-baked bread, and the sharp tang of spilled ale, undercut by the faint, herbal whisper of pipe smoke curling from a few grizzled elders in the shadows. It was a place where the city’s pulse beat strongest, unfiltered and unrelenting, a stark contrast to the solemn halls of the Order of Paladins that Meredith was used to.

Lloyd May held the door for her with a courteous nod, the silver of his sword catching glints from the lanterns as he followed her inside. The weight of the day’s events still clung to her like a second skin. The chase through the market, the clash in the alley, the sting of the Wizard’s rebuke, but the promise of a quiet corner and a drink offered a fragile respite.

She scanned the room, her trained instincts ever vigilant, noting the easy flow of conversation, the occasional flash of a concealed dagger at a belt, the subtle wards etched into the doorframe that kept outright brawls at bay. No immediate threats.

They wove through the throng to a booth near the back, tucked against a wall adorned with faded tapestries depicting ancient battles between knights and dragons. The barkeep, a burly man with a tooth and a perpetual scowl, grunted an acknowledgment as Lloyd signaled for two tankards of house ale. Meredith slid onto the worn bench, her armor clanking softly against the wood, and let out a long, measured breath. The adrenaline from the fight had ebbed, leaving behind a dull ache in her body and a deeper weariness in her spirit. She flexed her fingers, feeling the faint pull of the bandage she’d hastily applied, and turned her gaze to Lloyd as he settled across from her, his broad frame filling the space with an effortless authority.

The tankards arrived promptly, frothy heads spilling slightly over the rims, and Meredith lifted hers in a small gesture of thanks before taking a cautious sip. The ale was cool and bitter, sliding down her throat with a welcome bite that chased away some of the alley’s grime from her thoughts.

"Lloyd May," she began, her voice measured. "I must confess that this afternoon’s proceedings have left me in a state of profound reflection. The interrogation of that Rogue and the Wizard... It unfolded most poorly under my stewardship. I fear I appeared woefully naive in my handling of the matter."

Lloyd leaned back, his sapphire eyes meeting hers over the rim of his tankard, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he took a hearty pull. The tavern’s din swirled around them. A burst of laughter from a nearby table, the clatter of dice on a gaming board, the sizzle of meat on the open hearth. Here in their booth, though, it felt like a pocket of calm amid the storm. He set his drink down with a soft thud, wiping foam from his lip with the back of his hand.

"Like I said, Meredith, you acted. Beats the group of people who simply watched... and the other Paladin recruits who did the same. Correct or not, your diligence is commendable."

She shook her head slightly, her silver hair still tousled from the chase falling across her forehead in a way that made her brush it back self-consciously. The ale warmed her from within, loosening the knot of tension in her chest just enough to let the words flow.

"Diligence without wisdom is simply foolishness. I should be better." Meredith looked up at Lloyd, whose face was sympathetic. Something about his look gave her pause. She didn’t want him to look at her like that much longer. Meredith sat straighter. "Understand, Lloyd May: today’s failure should not be taken as an indication of my ability to discern truth from lies. I simply choose to put more stock than most in the words of men. It may be foolish in a city like Podros, but it is how I choose to live."

Around them, the tavern pulsed on: a serving woman darted past with a tray of bread loaves, her skirts swishing against the rushes on the floor; a pair of traders argued boisterously over a map spread before them, their accents thick as smoke. Meredith felt exposed in that moment, her proper speech a shield that now seemed thinner than her armor. But Lloyd’s expression remained soft, his gaze steady and without judgment, which emboldened her to continue sipping her ale, the foam leaving a faint mustache she quickly wiped away.

He nodded slowly, his fingers drumming a light rhythm on the tankard’s handle. "That’s an admirable way to live, Meredith. Too many people I’ve met either choose not to trust anyone or trust only their skewed worldview. Trusting in others makes you a better person than most." The man smiled. "The Order of Paladins is better with you in it."

A flush crept up Meredith’s neck, hot and insistent, blooming across her cheeks like the first light of dawn. She ducked her head, pretending to study the contents of her tankard, but the warmth in her face betrayed her.

Had she ever been complimented on her personality before...?

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to remain composed. "Your commendation is most kind, Lloyd May. I strive only to uphold the virtues to which I am sworn."

Lloyd’s smile widened, a genuine curve that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and he leaned forward slightly, the booth’s shadows playing across his admittedly handsome features.

"I’m not being a kind, Meredith. I’m being honest. But enough praise. Tell me more about yourself, Meredith. Beyond the armor and the oaths. What drives a woman like you to chase a thief halfway across Podros?"

The question caught her off guard, another layer of that unexpected flattery peeling back her defenses. She shifted on the bench, the wood creaking under her, and took a deeper draught of ale to buy a moment’s pause. The liquid courage helped, but her mind raced with the rarity of such interest.

"Clear interest..." she mused inwardly, wrapped in curiosity. "Does he seek to know me, or is this simply conversation to him?"