The Raven’s Brew

“So, how’s the big city treating you, Gus?” Darius says, lifting his mug and breathing in the scent.

“Not bad. Much smoother than on your ship,” Gustav replies with a chuckle.

“Hm. You realise your repeated seasickness was mostly down to the quantity of cheap rum you drank. My cheap rum,” Darius says, amused.

Gustav pauses, eyes drifting to the window as he bites at his left thumbnail.

“Have you really not touched a drop?” Darius asks, taking a sip. “Ella’s letter sounded very positive.”

“I—well, there were times.” A faint rattle escapes as a tremor starts in Gustav’s right hand. He carefully lowers his teacup onto the saucer and gulps. “When we first arrived, we had little to work with. Never sleeping in the same place. It was rough.”

“And yet El managed to find enough coin to buy a—what is this place again?”

“It’s a café,” Gustav says proudly. “Very popular in the city, and only getting more so. It started as a noble pursuit, but more people are moving back to the mainland now. The archipelago’s getting too dangerous. Generations of working men with money to show. Any excuse to flaunt it.”

“They flaunt their wealth by drinking cheap imported tea? Something they could do at home.” Darius says with a grin.

“Shush!” Gustav snaps. “This is the finest-grown leaf.”

“Gus, I robbed enough imperial trade ships to know what cheap tea tastes like.” Darius chuckles, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

“Well don’t let them know that,” Gustav mutters.

Darius sighs. “Well, at least she named it something nice.” His gaze drifts toward the window.

“I chose the name,” Gustav says quickly, snapping Darius’s attention back to him.

“Really?” Darius raises a brow, then looks outside again, toward the creaking sign hanging above the door. “Hm. Prunella’s Brew. Now that you say it, I can’t imagine her naming anything after Mother.” He laughs again, earning more looks.

“She said it sounded foreign, but not too foreign,” Gustav says with a shrug. “Honestly, she didn’t care either way. This café’s my charge. Mine.”

“Hm.” Darius smiles. “You really have cleaned up, brother.”

The creak of the door draws his eye.

Ella strides in, cracking her knuckles. A brute of a man follows close behind, holding the door, and shutting it the moment she passes through. She crosses to their table, glancing once toward the girl behind the counter. The look alone sends her scrambling, abandoning the washing-up to rush for a fresh pot.

“Good to see you properly, El,” Darius says, pushing himself halfway to his feet.

She lifts a hand without looking and drops into the chair opposite him.

Ella says nothing, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“I expected to see you when I came into port,” Darius continues. “Your letter sounded urgent.”

Still silent, but a faint rattle comes from behind her. The girl returns, balancing a tray with a steaming pot and a small cake. She sets it down quickly, bows, and retreats behind the counter as if fleeing.

“Um… El,” Gustav whispers, leaning in.

“What, Gus?” she snaps, finally lowering her hand.

“El,” he murmurs, nodding toward her cuff.

Her gaze drops to the dark flecks of blood staining the fabric. She huffs, straightens, and folds the cuff neatly over her wrist.

“Ha,” Darius chuckles, lifting his cup. “You two haven’t changed. Been having some trouble, El?”

“Never you mind.” She lets out a long sigh, pouring herself some tea. Then her eyes flick to Darius’s right side—the arm missing, the cloth neatly folded over the stump. “Where’s Chomp?”

“You know, it’s funny, sis. I thought bringing a shapeshifting monster ashore might be a bad idea.” He shrugs. “Even if it is disguised as my arm.”

Her gaze snaps back to his. Flat. Unamused. “So, he’s on the ship.”

“Yes,” Darius replies. “The seas aren’t what they were. Tensions are higher than ever. Imperial patrols on every route. We’ve repainted the ship four times this year alone—doesn’t include what it took just to get into port here.”

Ella says nothing, sipping her tea.

A pause.

“Wait,” Darius says slowly. “In your letter—you said you needed me.” His eyes narrow. “You don’t need me, do you?”

He exhales. “You need Chomp.”

“What?” Gustav blurts, swivelling toward Ella.

She drums her fingers on the table. Then, with a small, guilty shrug, she says, “Well.”

“By the gods,” Darius groans. “I’m an idiot. Of course you’re after that thing. What is it this time? Need help cleaning up? Or have you got some robbery planned?”

“Hush, brother,” Ella snaps, clanging her mug into its saucer. “It is not your business.”

Darius rolls his eyes. “Then what is my business, hm?” He gestures around them. “You’re not fooling anyone with this café. I’ve never seen something so obviously a front for criminal dealings. Either the Eldaran police know, and don’t care, or, they’re so incompetent they couldn’t spot the obvious, if it bit them.”

“Does it matter?” Ella mutters, taking a bite of cake.

“Damned,” Darius says with a grimace. “You are so like Father.”

Ella’s fist slams into the table, drawing every eye in the café.

“It’s alright, everyone!” Gustav jumps up quickly. “Just a family disagreement.” He forces a smile. “Perhaps you’d all like to try a free sample of our new cakes?”

The tension melts instantly. The girl behind the counter rushes out with a silver tray, weaving through the patrons.

“I am nothing like that monster,” Ella whispers, leaning close to Darius.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he replies evenly, his gaze flicking to her cuff. “Who was it? Some poor lowlife who crossed you?”

“That is not your—”

“It is my business,” he cuts in, calm but firm. “If you want my help.”

Ella exhales and leans back, lowering her voice. “Cousin Peter has… different ideas about how to run the family.” A beat. “Business.”

“By Sol, El,” Darius mutters. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” she says lightly. “Yet. Not until he tells me what I need to know.”

Darius shakes his head. “You know, after you k…” he clears his throat. “After Father died,” he says, too used to the lie. “I thought that would be the end of it. You married that idiot Trevor. I thought maybe I could come home one day. That the Raven name might mean something… legal.”

Ella stares at him. Something dark moves behind her eyes, buried beneath duty she never chose, and never escaped.

“A robbery,” she replies finally. “I need Chomp to get through a very stubborn door.”

“What’s so special about this door? And what’s so important on the other side?”

“All those trips to the mainland Father made when we were kids,” she says quietly. “He was seeking something.”

“You don’t still believe that, do you?” Darius replies with a grin. “Damned, Ella, those were just tales he told us.”

“Not tales,” she says flatly. “I’ve found them to be more than that. When our great-grandfather travelled from the east, he brought something very valuable with him.” A pause. “Something now kept in the vaults of the Mages’ Guild.”

“You want to rob the Mages’ Guild,” Darius says slowly. “Are you insane?”

“No.” Ella lifts her cup, utterly calm. “But with Chomp’s help, I could be, insanely rich.”