Chapter 55: That Same Old Tavern
On South Cross Street in Alkhemia, once the liveliest thoroughfare in the city, a quiet chill had begun to settle in.
The worsening economic climate was becoming impossible to ignore. More and more shops had shuttered their doors, and fewer and fewer employers could afford to offer work to adventurers.
The Iron Slag, too, had seen its clientele dwindle. In the past, that alone would have sent its owner into a rage. An orc's temper was famously volatile, with calm moments few and far between.
But these past few days, the tavern had been strangely peaceful. The reason was simple: the owner had changed.
Una Hellfire, the former orc proprietress, had already packed her bags. Once she finished selling off what she couldn't take with her, she would leave the city for good.
As for Iron Slag, it had changed hands twice in a single day and now appeared to have been folded into Alkhemia's official assets.
Private property becoming public was a rare sight indeed. Usually, the reverse happened, with public assets quietly slipping into private pockets.
Whatever complicated maneuvering lay behind the scenes wasn't important. The orc bartender still stood behind the counter as always, polishing his glassware.
But the dwarf singer, whose singing had been atrocious by any standard, was gone. With so few patrons left, the tavern felt oppressively empty.