Scarlett went about her duties at the inn with diligence and determination. She swept the floors, cleaned the tables, and served the patrons with a smile, despite the weariness that settled in her bones. The hard work was second nature to her, a testament to her resilience and self-reliance.
In exchange for the cottage behind the inn, Scarlett had willingly taken on these responsibilities. She didn't believe in relying on charity or handouts; she preferred to earn her keep and stand on her own two feet. It was a lesson her father had instilled in her from a young age, teaching her the value of hard work and the satisfaction of self-sufficiency.
As she moved from one task to another, her mind would occasionally wander, replaying memories of her father's teachings. She could almost hear his voice, guiding her through each chore, reminding her to take pride in her work and to never back down from a challenge.
Despite the physical demands and the long hours, Scarlett found solace in her duties. The inn became more than just a place of employment; it became a sanctuary where she could focus on rebuilding her life. The bustling atmosphere and the interactions with the inn's patrons provided a welcomed distraction from the haunting memories of her family's tragic fate.
And so, with each sweeping motion, each tray carried, and each friendly conversation exchanged, Scarlett reaffirmed her resilience and determination. She refused to be defined by her past or the hardships she faced. Instead, she embraced the opportunity to carve a new path for herself, one where hard work and self-reliance would pave the way to a brighter future.
In the quiet moments, when the day's work was done, Scarlett would retreat to her cottage behind the inn. It was a small, modest space, but it offered her a sense of security and a moment of respite.
As she lay on her bed, the weariness in her muscles finally catching up to her, she felt a glimmer of hope and a flicker of pride. She had come a long way since that fateful night, and she was determined to forge her own destiny, one step at a time.
The one aspect that caused her concern was the clothes she was supposed to wear. It was a garment made of coarse cotton, but its fit was purposely tight, displaying more of her cleavage than she felt comfortable with.
This planned choice extended to all the serving girls' outfits, as the old Finley McGregor, the innkeeper, believed that highlighting their natural curves and cleavage would fascinate his guests, assuring a continual flow of cash.
To her, it was not only demeaning to put on such dress, but it also contradicted her true self. The dress conveyed the image of a woman seeking a romantic partner, a far cry from who she truly was. However, the stubborn innkeeper, old Finley, insisted on her wearing it, claiming that the young men who frequented the inn found pleasure in gazing at women's exposed skin. According to him, it ensured a steady flow of coins, as freely as the flowing ale.
Unlike most women in her Dark Valley pack, who adored opulent gowns crafted from silk and velvet, favored by the nobility, Scarlett had never been drawn to such finery. Not that her family ever possessed such garments. They were a farming family, residing in a village that existed in a realm of modest means, where everyone watched out for one another and extended care and support.
In the tradition of her pack, spanning generations, their way of life had thrived. However, everything changed when the rogue lycans arrived, causing the downfall of her village. They mercilessly slaughtered all those who refused to pledge loyalty to him, leaving behind a trail of violence and bloodshed. Rumor had it that his ruthless deeds enabled him to seize the title of Landlord and establish himself as the new leader of the pack. The lycan king, Tobias Richfield, had contributed in this scheming
There were also rumors circulating about Tobias Richfield, the lycan king, being personally involved in this calculated and ruthless maneuver to seize more power over the land.
She had managed to gather snippets of information about King Tobias and the lycans, listening attentively to the whispers and gossip shared by the locals and travelers alike. It was said that Tobias, accompanied by a group of fierce and ruthless followers loyal only to him, had successfully conquered the Landlords' keep in the region.
Reports suggested that brutality and violence were a common occurrence under his rule, with beatings and executions serving as regular reminders of his iron-fisted power.
Scarlett was not shocked, given the acts of brutality she had personally witnessed King Tobias commit against her own village.
"Girl, give me another mug of ale," a rough man called out, interrupting her thoughts.
It was Grayson, a familiar face among the inn's regular patrons, and someone Scarlett held a deep disdain for. The way he behaved was constantly inappropriate, thinking that his patronage of Finley's tavern entitled him to make advances towards the serving girls, including unpleasant physical contact.
She needed four hands to ward off his approaches. The old Finley always intervened when guys like Grayson got too forward, but Scarlett thought his idea of “too forward” was several steps over the line as far as she was concerned.
Scarlett approached the bar counter and retrieved a mug of ale from Finley's outstretched hand. "Take it easy, my dear. You already appear ready to unleash your wrath upon the man."
"If he dares to lay his hands on me, I may very well consider it."
“Esme-”
"Alright, okay, I understand," she retorted with disdain. "He prioritizes the flow of money."
"Yes, indeed," he replied in agreement.
She slammed her tray onto the bar with more force than required, creating a sharp noise that echoed through the bustling common room.
Several heads turned in her direction before quickly resuming their conversations and drinks. The regular patrons were accustomed to her occasional outbursts.