Alfrid's eyes moved slowly across the paper, his lips thinning.
"Empty barrels?" he read aloud, voice sharp. "That's what this says."
He stepped onto the barge without waiting for permission, boots thudding against the wood. His gaze swept over the stacked barrels, then narrowed.
"Empty?" he repeated.
He walked over and leaned down, grabbing a fish from the top of one barrel and holding it up between two fingers.
"After all, they aren't empty," Alfrid said dryly. "They're full of fish."
He let the fish drop back inside with a wet slap, then turned his suspicious look toward Bard.
"Care to explain why your paperwork says one thing while your cargo says another?"
"It's just fish," Bard replied evenly. "Nothing strange about bringing extra catch from upstream."
"These aren't a few fish," Alfrid snapped, gesturing sharply at the stacked barrels. "This is an entire haul."
He waved at the guards. "Empty them. Into the lake."
The guards stepped forward.
Inside the barrels, the Dwarves stiffened. If the fish were dumped, so were they. The disguise would be gone in seconds.
"Do you really want to do this?" Bard asked, moving to block the guards' path.
"Of course," Alfrid said with a thin smile. "I'm simply enforcing regulations."
Two guards grabbed a barrel and began tipping it toward the water.
"Think carefully," Bard said, voice calm but firm. "Food is already scarce in Lake-town. Do you believe the people will appreciate seeing fish thrown back into the lake? Especially if word spreads that the Master's own men wasted it?"
The guards hesitated mid-motion.
Everyone in Lake-town knew there was growing dissatisfaction. Supplies were thin. Prices were rising. And Bard's name carried weight among common folk.
If rumors reached the docks that good fish had been dumped for paperwork's sake, it wouldn't sit well.
Alfrid's smile faded.
"Hmph. Fine," he said sharply. "Leave it."
The guards stepped back.
Bard held Alfrid's gaze without speaking. That seemed to irritate him more than anything.
Alfrid's eyes shifted—and landed on Natasha and Wanda.
He studied them properly now. Well-dressed. Confident. Out of place.
"And who are these two?" he asked slowly. "They look… familiar."
"They're visitors," Bard said.
"Guards," Alfrid said suddenly, ignoring him. "Take them. I believe I've seen faces like theirs on a wanted notice."
"Wait," Bard stepped forward.
"Do not interfere, Bard," Alfrid replied coldly. "This is official business."
Bard clenched his jaw. He could see exactly what this was—Alfrid couldn't win with the barrels, so now he was looking for another way to assert control.
The guards moved toward Natasha and Wanda.
Luke, who had been silent the entire time, finally shifted his weight slightly.
The air on the barge shifted.
"Do you really think I'm standing here so someone can put their hands on my family?" Luke said quietly.
The tone wasn't loud.
The guards froze mid-step. The wooden planks beneath their boots creaked in the sudden stillness. Even the water seemed to slow.
Natasha felt it immediately. That face. That dangerous calm before something broke.
The sky above Lake-town darkened unnaturally fast. Clouds gathered as if pulled together by invisible hands. Wind whipped across the docks, slamming loose ropes against wood and sending ripples across the water.
Alfrid looked up, confusion turning to unease. Then he looked back at Luke.
And swallowed.
The man wasn't shouting. Wasn't moving. But something about him felt wrong—like standing too close to a storm.
Lightning cracked across the clouds, splitting the sky in jagged flashes that lit the wooden town in white.
Bard stared at Luke.
Had he just brought disaster to his doorstep?
Another bolt tore across the heavens.
And then—
A sharp karate chop landed cleanly on top of Luke's head.
"Calm down," Natasha said flatly. "You're overreacting. Control yourself."
The pressure vanished.
The wind died. The clouds thinned as quickly as they had formed. The sky returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
Alfrid stood pale and rigid, breathing unevenly. The guards had already taken several steps back without realizing it.
Luke rubbed the back of his head and glanced at Natasha. "I was calm."
"You were about to level a town," she replied.
Alfrid cleared his throat, still shaken. He avoided looking directly at Luke now.
"You can… go, Bard," he said stiffly.
He wasn't granting permission.
He was retreating.
Bard wasted no time. He pushed the barge forward, oars cutting through the water as they passed beneath the gate.
He kept his eyes ahead.
Behind him, Luke and Natasha were still talking—well, Natasha was talking.
And for the first time since meeting him, Bard wondered what kind of force he had just allowed into Lake-town.
"You always say control and everything," Wanda said, folding her arms. "But you're the one who almost lost it."
"I didn't lose it," Luke replied quickly. "I was just warning him. No one lays a hand on my women. Except me."
Natasha shot him a look. "I'm not your woman."
Luke smiled at her without hesitation. "Not yet. But you will be. I'm confident in my charm."
Natasha rolled her eyes sighing.
But Luke could see it—her favorability toward him had already climbed high. Almost at the edge of something deeper. The only reason she hadn't crossed it was because she was Natasha. Trained. Disciplined. Guarded to the core.
She didn't let people in easily.
She especially didn't let herself fall easily.
*****
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