Wrath of the White Dove Free Reading - 2
CHAPTER 1 Back then, the tavern didn't have a name. At least, no one bothered to remember it. The air inside was a permanent cocktail of damp wood, old ale dregs, and grease never fully scrubbed away. In the afternoons, the patrons were sparse—mostly dockworkers from the nearby wharves or sailors on brief shore leave. They’d enter, drink, leave, their eyes never lingering. In the corners, a few listless regulars nursed their cups, utterly disinterested in the world. "August! Are those tables clean?!" Grace’s voice cracked from the back like a whip against a post, carrying her trademark brand of no-nonsense authority. The coin purse at her belt jingled with every move, a constant reminder—she ruled this roost. August stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled high, a few stray drops of murky ale staining his wrist. He wiped a wooden tankard with a rag, rolling his eyes as he did. "Done, done." His motions, however, grew unconsciously quicker, shoving the last chippe...