The inn was alive with noise, the hum of conversation, the clatter of mugs, and the crackle of the fire in the wide stone hearth. Theresa weaved through the crowded room, balancing a tray laden with foaming tankards of ale. The air smelled of roasted meat and spilled beer, and the warmth of the fire reddened her cheeks.

“Ale for the lads at the corner table,” her father called from behind the bar, his voice barely cutting through the din.

Theresa nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she approached a table of rowdy young town boys.

“Here you are, gentlemen,” she said, placing the tankards down with practiced ease.