The world seemed to hold its breath. Outside, a magical tempest raged, its winds howling a song of pursuit and peril. Inside, the Threshold Inn was an island of impossible calm. Leo stood face to face with a woman who felt less like a person and more like the eye of the storm itself. Her plea, "I wish to rent a room," hung in the air, a request so mundane it bordered on the surreal.
Behind him, Leo could feel the tension from his tenants. Lyra had shifted into a low, defensive stance, her sword held ready but not pointed, her face a pale mask of awe and alarm. Silas had melted back into the deeper shadows of the lobby, his green eyes wide and luminous, every instinct he possessed screaming at him about the sheer, overwhelming power that had just walked through the door.
This woman was the reason the Wyvern Hunters were here. She was the legendary prize. Letting her in meant willingly inviting a pack of S-Rank wolves to sit on his doorstep. Turning her away meant violating the one principle upon which his new existence was built: this place was a sanctuary.
In his old life, Leo had been a master of risk assessment. He would have run the numbers, calculated the potential losses, and politely shown the high-risk client the door. But he wasn't that man anymore. That man was dead. He was the Master of the Threshold Inn now. And business was business.
A calm, professional smile touched Leo's lips. "Of course," he said, his voice even and welcoming, a stark contrast to the howling chaos behind her. He stepped aside, holding the door open as if he were a concierge at a five-star hotel. "Please, come in out of the storm."
The woman, Elara, looked at him, a flicker of surprise in her golden eyes. She had clearly expected hesitation, fear, or outright refusal. Seeing only quiet welcome, she gave a single, grateful nod. She gathered the last of her strength and took a final, decisive step across the threshold, leaving the churning, misty void behind her.
The moment her second foot touched the wooden floor of the lobby, the world outside fell silent.
The howling wind ceased. The torrential silver rain vanished. The oppressive, magical pressure that had been pressing in on the Inn evaporated as if it had never been. Through the open door, the Greywood Mists were once again a calm, swirling expanse of pearlescent twilight. The storm had not been a feature of the landscape; it had been bound to her, a manifestation of her desperate flight and the magic of her pursuers.
Leo commanded the doors to shut, sealing them away in their quiet sanctuary. He turned to face his new guest. Now that she was out of the storm, he could see her more clearly. The wound on her shoulder was deep and vicious, caused by something designed to rip and tear. Despite her exhaustion and her tattered dress, she held herself with an innate, unshakeable dignity, the kind that was not learned but bred over millennia.
Lyra took a half-step forward, her eyes not on Elara's face, but on a small, simple pendant that rested against her collarbone. It was a silver chain holding a single, tear-drop shaped sapphire. Coiled around the stone was a tiny, exquisitely detailed silver dragon.
"The Azure Coil," Lyra breathed, her voice filled with a reverence that bordered on disbelief. "The crest of the Sky-Lords of Aeridor. But… that house fell during the Age of Fire. It has been nothing but a legend for five hundred years."
The woman, Elara, slowly raised a hand to touch the pendant, a profound sadness in her golden eyes. "Legends have a way of lingering," she said, her voice soft but resonant. "My family did not fall. We merely… slept. An ill-advised slumber, it seems, as the world's jackals have grown bold in our absence."
Her gaze shifted to meet Lyra's, and then Silas's. "The knight is correct. The Wyvern Hunters are not here by chance. Their benefactor has learned of my awakening." Her expression hardened. "They are hunting me. And they will not stop until they possess my heart."
The confirmation landed with a heavy thud in the quiet lobby. This wasn't a misunderstanding. This wasn't a regional conflict. This was a world-class manhunt, and ground zero was Leo's inn.
Silas, for the first time since Leo had met him, looked genuinely spooked. This wasn't a secret he could buy or sell; this was a truth that could get him erased. He looked at Elara as if she were a walking natural disaster.
Leo, however, was processing the information differently. An ancient, legendary dragon royal. Hunted by the world's most dangerous mercenaries for her magical heart. The 'Value' involved was… astronomical. The risk was equally so. It was the ultimate high-risk, high-reward client.
He looked Elara up and down, his expression shifting from that of a welcoming host to a pragmatic businessman assessing a client's ability to pay.
"An ancient bloodline, a legendary bounty… your situation sounds very, very expensive," he said, his tone thoughtful. He clapped his hands together once, a clean, sharp sound that cut through the tension. "So, let's talk about the terms of your lease. How exactly did you plan on covering the first month's rent?"