Gerald pushed the doors of the inn open and entered, followed by Uncle Rudolf. There were several tables spread around the inn. Only two of them were empty, though. Gerald and his old steward walked to one of the tables without attracting much attention. The most they got was a glance of curiosity from here or there. They weren't regulars here, after all.

Gerald spotted the innkeeper, a tall, sturdy woman, pointing at them while whispering to one of the serving girls. The latter nodded and hurried towards Gerald's table.

The serving girl didn't seem to possess much in the art of patience or courtesy, evident by her words upon reaching the table. "We have ale, mead, wine, and cider. What will it be?" she said.

Gerald didn't really mind her manner of speech. He wasn't here as the lord, and most people who frequented inns weren't used to courtesy. He pondered for a while and found himself inclined towards wine. But then he glanced around and found that he would be the only one drinking it in the whole inn. "Ale," he said.

"Cider for this old man," Uncle Rudolf chuckled.

The girl nodded and trotted back to the innkeeper. The drinks were soon served and Gerald took his time observing the people in the inn. They were mostly well-off idlers mixed with a few workers who sought to steal a swig before a long day's work. Gerald knew that it would have been better if he had come at night because he would find the inn overcrowded with all sorts of people. Alas, his only chance came at an early morning like this. He sighed and started listening to the heated arguments among the drinkers.

"I hear Madame Grina is hiring able men," one man said, downing a tankard of ale as if it was nothing.

"Heh, she always is," another 'whispered' in a rather loud tone. "Last time they hired a lot of men, hoping to start a riot before the arrival of the new Viscount. They failed in the end. Almost half of the hired men died before even moving into the main streets. I'd rather empty latrines than work for her viscous mug. She didn't even compensate their families."

"What do you know?" the first man retorted, his face a little flushed from drinking. "This time the lady is paying a silver per each able hand. A silver a day! Imagine that. You'd earn at least 15 gold coins in one year. The oldest veteran I know in the army doesn't earn that much."

The second man snorted. "If you live to get paid, that is," he said. "You're a drunken fool who'd send lads to their death. You're no better than that snake and her worm brother."

"I'm a drunkard fool? Heh, you're the one who's brain's been eaten by maggots. No dimwit would refuse that much silver just because they fear death. And who said you'd die if you served her. They didn't say it was for a riot, did they?"

Gerald wore an ugly expression as the two men continued spewing curses at each other, while Uncle Rudolf looked helpless. "Grina," Gerald said. "She's my cousin, yes?" Gerald had heard about his cousins before from Arthur. They had tried to subvert his claim and seize his seat before he arrived at Ard. He hadn't heard about the attempted riot, though. He guessed that Arthur didn't want to show incompetence upon the new lord's arrival, hence not informing him of the matter. The riot had been suppressed quickly anyway, and it hadn't done any damage, so it could hardly be called a real riot worth reporting to him.

Uncle Rudolf nodded. "I believe so. It should be her," he said. "I don't know why she would hire men now, though."

The Tellus family had several branching households, but the most prominent of them was the one that was spearheaded by the siblings, Grina and Estor. They were the ones that had their eyes on the Viscounty for a long time, according to Arthur.

Gerald frowned. "Nearly fourteen silvers a fortnight. That's a lot to pay for one man's work. What are they planning now?" Gerald knew that most people were paid with copper coins for each day's work. Very few could earn a silver a day. It was too much, considering that twenty silvers were worth a gold coin and twenty coppers were worth a silver coin. A man would need to work for less than a month to make a gold coin if he earned one silver a day, which was enough to last him for almost half a year. Gerald assumed that the words he'd just heard about the hired men dying before being paid were true.

"I haven't seen them till this day," Gerald continued. His cousins had been absent from the day of his inheritance of the Viscounty and the celebration in the following day. It seemed that they hadn't taken their failure kindly. "I suppose I'll have to invite my cousins to the keep for a 'talk' soon." Gerald hadn't expected to hear something like this being said brazenly in an inn. If anything, his visit was worth the time after hearing this drunken argument. Then Gerald's ears twitched as he heard another exchange from a different table.

"I heard the new Viscount has only seen twenty winters," an old man said. "I wonder where our fate is takin' us."

A young man beside that old man chuckled heartily. "And you always say that I'm too young to take over your stall, old man. I have a mind to leave you and that stinking stall and go find another sort of work," he said.

"Shut up," the old man growled. Gerald assumed that they were father and son. "You think a Viscount of that age is good for Ard? Young fools like you always ruin anything they touch. If you'd learned well, I would have let you man the stall alone. I'm not fond of hard work with these old bones. But I know that you'd ruin it within the year."

It was worth laughing at that one could hear all sorts of thoughts and news just by sitting peacefully at an inn, Gerald believed. It was like men intentionally thought aloud at inns, hoping that others would hear their grumblings.

Gerald spent the rest of the morning in the inn, listening to some men's stories of romantic conquests and others' unforgiven grudges. He'd soon lost count of how many stories he'd heard, and found himself with a shooting ache permeating his head. "I think it's about time for us to leave," Gerald said.

"I think so too," Uncle Rudolf chuckled calmly. "It's also about time for me to check on Gasper. He doesn't know what he has to do aside from the recruitment yet."

Gerald nodded, standing up and dropping a copper coin on the table. He looked at the innkeeper who nodded to him a with the best smile she could muster, considering her rough features.

They were soon out of the inn and on their way to the keep. Uncle Rudolf would accompany Gerald to the keep to pick up a hundred gold coins, which would be enough to sustain Gasper's new crew for the time being.

On their way, however, a violent rattling and smashing sound caught their attention from one of the shaded alleys. Gerald glanced at it curiously and decided to walk over and see whatever was happening there. Uncle Rudolf followed him silently.

In the alley, a small girl was standing with a leather bag in her hands and her back to the wall. In front of her, three young boys of larger stature were surrounding her in a crescent.

"Street urchins," Gerald whispered sharply. "I didn't know we had some of those in Ard."

"Some families can't afford to raise more than a child or two, so they dispose of their children in the streets," Uncle Rudolf said. "That along with the arrival of the peasants who fled from the surrounding bandits makes Ard full of homeless children and adults alike."

"Hand us the sweet buns," one of the boys soon yelled.

"I've earned them," the girl said with a determined face.

"You've stolen them," another boy said. "Now hand them over."

"No, I didn't steal them. The old woman gave them to me for helping her. They're mine."

"Listen, you little whore," the third boy said. He was larger than his two companions and stood in the middle, apparently their leader. "You better hand me those buns or I'll—"

He didn't get to continue his words as a thick wooden branch descended on the back of his head like a bolt of lightning. It crashed over his head with its weight and the large boy swayed almost tumbling down. Before he and the other two could turn to see who ambushed them from the dark, another swing struck him on the head. Then another struck one of the other two boys. Soon enough, there was a flurry of strikes descending on the three young hoodlums. They screamed and yelled, waving their hands hoping to grab whoever was holding that branch, but they horribly failed as they cared more about covering their vulnerable faces than catching him. The three boys struggled fruitlessly, even failing to catch sight of the assailant. They soon gave up on fighting back and ran out of the back of the alley, covering their heads and shouting curses.

Another boy walked out of the shadows with the branch in hand and a grin on his face, his eyes meeting the girl's.

"I told you it would work," the girl said with a smile. "See? They ran like rats."

'Interesting,' Gerald smirked as he watched them.

"I didn't think we could scare them like that," the boy with the branch said, still grinning like an idiot. "Haha, this was marvelous!"

The pair kept chuckling until they heard the sound of approaching steps from the head of the alley. They soon stood agape as they watched Gerald and Uncle Rudolf drawing closer. They hesitated and looked behind them, possibly thinking of following the 'running rats' but Gerald's next yell seemed to freeze them.

"Don't run!"

The pair stood silent, watching Gerald until he stood between them. The girl's wide eyes watched Gerald. He could have sworn that she was appraising him. Somehow, he felt odd while she watched him. The boy, on the other hand, was slightly trembling and holding his branch tightly, apparently ready to defend himself and his companion.

Uncle Rudolf stepped forward and vaguely introduced Gerald. "This is Lord Gerald. Don't worry. It's your fortune that you've met him."

"The Viscount?" the girl asked, her eyes widening even further.

Gerald raised a brow. It wasn't expected of a homeless child to understand nobility and their complicated circles, even in a simple castle like Ard. "How did you know," he asked.

"There is only one noble in Ard," the girl said. "The lord of the keep, and the Viscount of Ard and the surrounding lands. I haven't heard of any other nobles arriving in the castle."

"Heard? And where do you 'hear' whatever it is you do exactly?" Gerald said with an amused smirk.

"In the streets," the girl said with a roll of her eyes. "People talk about everything in front of their homes, while buying from stalls, and at their workshops. They always talk. There is nothing to do but hear on the streets."

Gerald laughed. He found the pair quite interesting indeed. The girl, specially, seemed sharper than some adults. "How old are you?" he asked her.

"We're not sure," the girl shook her head. "Nobody ever told us."

"Ahh, right," Gerald nodded. "That was to be expected."

"But I think we're both twelve years of age," the girl continued.

"Well," Gerald said. "Since Uncle Rudolf has declared that you're fortunate to meet me and you know that I'm the Viscount, I suppose there is no harm in bringing you back with me to the keep. There is no harm in one more maid who 'hears' well, as long as she doesn't stretch her ears too far." Gerald looked at the girl. Then he turned to the boy, "I've been looking for a personal attendant, too. Perhaps I've found one." Gerald then turned around and slowly walked out of the alley. "Come on, you two. My keep doesn't lack sweet buns," he chuckled as he walked away.

The pair of homeless children looked at each other hesitantly, then they steeled themselves and followed Gerald with instinctive caution in their eyes.