It was the middle of a sweltering summer in Crown Eastport, the capital of the Northern Empire, the kind of heat that clung to the skin and shimmered off the cobblestone streets.

The city was in a curious transition state, as shown by its mix of eras. Gas lamps flickered alongside the occasional hum of a motorcar while its inhabitants dressed in a patchwork of styles; some in high-collared shirts and waistcoats, others in looser, more modern cuts.

Despite the oppressive warmth, Matthias, a young man of twenty-three, was clad in his best suit. The dark wool clung to him uncomfortably, but he had freshened up as best he could before stepping into the world that morning, determined to make a good impression at yet another job interview.

Freshly polished shoes clicked against the street while he adjusted his tie, a nervous habit he'd picked up over the last few weeks. This was the fifth interview this month; he hoped it would be the last.

Matthias eventually stopped outside an imposing-looking building with tall, dark windows and a brass plaque next to the door that read 'Harrington & Sons Publishing.'

He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy oak door.

Inside, the reception area was bustling with activity. Clerks hurried about, their arms laden with manuscripts and ledgers.

A stern-looking woman behind the desk glanced up as Matthias approached.

"Name?" she asked, her voice clipped.

"Matthias Philips," he replied, trying to sound confident. "I have an interview with Mr. Harrington at two o'clock."

She consulted a schedule, then nodded. "Take a seat. He'll be with you shortly."

Matthias sat on a hard wooden chair, his portfolio resting on his lap. He glanced around, noting the framed illustrations on the walls, each one a testament to the talent that Harrington & Sons sought.

His own work, he hoped, would soon join them.

After what felt like a near eternity, the door to Mr. Harrington's office opened, and a young man emerged, his face pale and dejected. Matthias's stomach churned. He stood as the receptionist called his name.

Mr. Harrington was a portly man with a walrus mustache and sharp eyes. He gestured for Matthias to sit. "Mr. Philips, a pleasure to meet you! Now, tell me a bit about yourself."

Matthias launched into his rehearsed spiel, emphasizing his passion for art and his dedication to his craft. He opened his portfolio, displaying his best pieces: landscapes, portraits, and a few imaginative scenes.

Mr. Harrington examined them with a critical eye.

"I'll admit, your technique and style is commendable," he said finally. "But we need someone with more experience in the world of commercial illustrations. You understand, our clients demand a certain... practicality in the artwork done for them."

Matthias felt his heart sink. "I understand, sir. But I'm a quick learner, and I'm willing to adapt my style to meet whatever your needs are."

Mr. Harrington shook his head. "I'm afraid we can't take that risk. We have a reputation to maintain. Perhaps in a few years, with more experience under your belt..."

The rest of the conversation was a blur.

A while later, Matthias thanked the man for his time and left the office, his hopes dashed once again. As he walked back up the street, he couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. How many more rejections could he take?

~

Time stretched on for what felt like an eternity as Matthias walked back. Despite the oppressive heat, he took his time, delaying the inevitable.
Before long, Matthias returned to the townhouse where he was staying with his grandmother Belle and great-aunt Nonna. He had been living with the two women ever since his parents passed away years ago. Their home was a sanctuary of faded wallpapers and creaking floorboards, filled with the comforting scent of lavender and old books.

Today, though, that sanctuary awaited him with an unintended sting.

As he trudged up the steps to the front door, he could feel the weight of disappointment settle over him like a second skin.

Matthias pushed open the heavy oak door, its hinges groaning in protest, and froze mid-step.

Spanning the width of the narrow front hallway was a large banner, its bold letters proclaiming 'CONGRATULATIONS!' in a cheerful array of colors. Balloons bobbed gently against the ceiling, tethered by curling ribbons, and streamers dangled like festive garlands.

For a fleeting moment, Matthias's heart lifted. Perhaps there had been some kind of mistake, maybe even a miraculous turn of events. Possibly, he had wandered into a world where he had succeeded in getting the job he sought.

Reality, like the punchline of some cruel joke, crashed down as quickly as it had risen.

"Matthias, dear! You're home!" Belle's bright and eager voice rang out as she bustled into the hallway from the parlor. She was a small, sprightly woman, her silver hair swept into a neat bun, and her dress, with its lace trim and full skirt, a relic of an earlier time. Behind her, Nonna peered over the rims of her spectacles, her sharp eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"We've been waiting all afternoon!" Belle continued, taking his arm with a grandmotherly enthusiasm that made Matthias's chest tighten. "Come, tell us everything!"

Matthias hesitated, considering the cheerful banner and all the decorations.

"I… I didn't get the job," he said, his voice flat and low, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

The air stilled. Belle's smile faltered, and Nonna's brow creased, but the silence lasted only a heartbeat before both women sprang into action.

"Oh, my sweet boy," Belle said, pulling him into a warm embrace that smelled faintly of rosewater. "It's alright. These things happen."

Nonna nodded, adjusting her spectacles with a decisive air. "Indeed. If they couldn't see your worth, then perhaps it wasn't the place for you. There'll be other chances."

Matthias let himself be guided into the parlor, where a table stood laden with an unexpected spread.

A cake adorned with delicate icing flowers sat proudly in the center, flanked by a pitcher of iced tea that glistened with condensation in the heat. The sight of it, clearly meant to celebrate a victory that hadn't come, twisted something inside him.

"You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble," he said, managing a weak smile as Belle pressed a plate into his hands.

"Nonsense," she replied, cutting a generous slice of cake. "Consider this your recompense for enduring yet another trying ordeal. Now, here, have some iced tea. It's much too hot for anything else."

Matthias took the plate before sinking into an armchair as Nonna poured a tall glass of iced tea with practiced grace. A slice of lemon for garnish and it was placed before him on the table.

"The fifth interview this month," Matthias sighed, a snarky edge slowly creeping into his tone despite himself. "And it's always the same. Not enough experience, and usually no interest in someone with artistic talents."

Belle tutted, settling across from him with her own cup. "Fools, the lot of them. They wouldn't know real talent if it danced a jig in front of their noses. Your paintings are a gift, Matthias, and don't you think otherwise. You needn't worry. We'll keep looking after you until you find your place in the world."

Nonna, who had been sipping her tea in thoughtful silence, suddenly set her cup down with a soft clink.

"Wait a moment," she said slowly, a spark lighting her eyes. "I've just remembered something."

She rose to her feet and began to shuffle out of the room.

"I'm going to make a call," she murmured, more to herself than to them, before disappearing into the study, leaving Matthias and Belle to exchange puzzled glances.

"What's she up to now?" Matthias asked cautiously.

Belle could only smile apologetically. "I really couldn't say."

Later, after the cake had been reduced to crumbs and the iced tea pitcher stood nearly empty, Matthias retreated to his attic bedroom.

The space was large and airy, its slanted ceiling lined with exposed beams, and it doubled as his artist's studio. Canvases leaned against the walls, some blank, others half-finished, while a battered easel stood in the corner beside a table cluttered with brushes and paint tubes.

An unfinished painting, a portrait of a man in a general's uniform commissioned by a neighbor a few houses down, waited patiently for his attention.

Matthias shed the stifling suit, hanging it carefully over a chair, and changed into a loose shirt and trousers, the fabric soft against his skin. The attic was warm, but a breeze drifted through the open windows, carrying the distant clamor of the city below.

Settling before the easel, Matthias picked up a brush and dipped it into a pot of crimson paint, losing himself in the familiar rhythm of strokes and shades. The commission wouldn't bring much money, but it kept his skills sharp, and in moments like that, it was a balm for his bruised spirit.

By the time dinner rolled around, the portrait had gained a new layer of depth, the general's stern face beginning to emerge from the canvas. Matthias washed his hands and descended the narrow stairs, the aroma of roasted vegetables and fresh bread drawing him to the dining room.

Belle had already set the table and was setting the food out when he came in; when he asked, she accepted his help in finishing.

Moments later, Nonna entered the dining room with a happy gleam in her eyes.

"I've got wonderful news," she announced, settling into her chair with a flourish.

Belle paused, a serving spoon hovering over the potatoes. "What's that?"

"I've spoken with Digory," Nonna said, her voice brimming with satisfaction. "He says he'll be happy to take Matthias on."

Belle's eyes widened, and she smacked her forehead with a laugh. "Digory?! Oh heavens, why didn't I think of him sooner?"

Matthias glanced between them, curiosity tugging at him as a bemused smile crossed his face. "Um… who's Digory?"

Nonna leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. "An old friend of ours, dear. He's the landlord of a tavern in Seabreeze, a lovely little seaside village on the other side of the country. Digory's always happy to take on help, and he's not fussy about who it is."

"Uh huh…" Matthias slowly nodded, thoughtfully looking at the two old ladies as they passed food and filled the plates. "So, what sort of person is this Digory like?"

"Oh, he's a good soul," Belle enthusiastically explained. Nonna and I used to visit him years ago, and he was always kind."

Matthias chewed thoughtfully at a bit of potato, the idea sinking in. "So… he's really open to giving me a job?"

"Indeed he is," Nonna said. "I told him about you, your talent, your troubles, and he said he'd be delighted to have you. The only catch is you'd have to move to Seabreeze."

The word 'move' hung in the air, heavy with possibility.

Matthias traced the grain of the table with his fingertip, his mind churning. Leaving the townhouse, the only home he'd known since his parents' death, felt like stepping off a cliff.

Yet the promise of work, of a fresh start, stirred something dormant within him.

"It's a lot to ask," he said slowly. "Certainly a big change."

Belle reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "It could be just what you need, Matthias. A chance to spread your wings."

Matthias nodded slowly. "What sort of place is Seabreeze?"

"It's a peaceful place," Nonna explained, "the air is clean, and the weather's fair for the most part. It's also unique for being one of the few places in the country to hold a mix of human and beastmen."

"Beastmen?" Matthias asked, his curiosity piqued.

He'd heard tales of them, creatures with animal forms who walked and talked like humans. They were a rare sight in Crown Eastport; Matthias could only guess there must have been larger communities nationwide.

A thought passed his mind. "Does that mean that Digory is also…?"

"Yes," Nonna said with a nod, "he's a sheepdog."

Matthias leaned back in his chair, trying to picture the scene: a country village by the sea that housed beastmen and humans, a tavern run by a sheepdog who wasn't picky about who he hired.

It made for quite the picture, and he smiled.

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll go."

Nonna clapped her hands together. "Splendid! He'll be here in a few days to fetch you."

~

The next few days passed in a flurry of preparation. Matthias packed his belongings into a sturdy trunk: clothes folded neatly alongside his painting supplies and a few sketchbooks tucked in for good measure.

Belle and Nonna fussed over him, pressing extra socks and a jar of homemade jam into his hands. Their affections were a steady anchor amidst his own growing nerves.

The morning of his departure dawned bright and clear, the summer heat already pressing down on Crown Eastport.

Matthias stood in the entryway of the townhouse, trunks at his feet, flanked by Belle and Nonna. Both ladies were giving him the once over, making sure his clothes were straight and his hair combed; this would be their last chance to do so for some unknown length of time, so they were making the most of it.

A knock came from the door.

"I'll get it," Matthias said, stepping forward.

Turning the handle, he opened it to find a towering figure with shaggy grey and white fur filling the frame.

Matthias' breath caught. Even when he had been informed, seeing a six-foot Old English Sheepdog in a sturdy tweed jacket and a flat cap perched on his head was still a sight to behold.

The dog's eyes, bright and kind, crinkled as he offered a broad, friendly smile.

"Good day to ye, lad," the beastman said, his voice rich with a rolling West Country accent. "I'm Digory. Pleasure to meet ye."

He extended a large and padded yet unmistakably hand-like paw, and Matthias, recovering from his surprise, shook it firmly.

"Matthias Philips," he managed. "Likewise."

Belle and Nonna appeared behind him, their faces lighting up.

"Digory!" Belle exclaimed, stepping forward to embrace him. "It's been far too long!"

"Aye, that it has," Digory replied, returning the hug with a gentle pat. "Ye both look grand, though."

Nonna clasped his paw next. "You haven't changed a bit. Are you still making that homemade cider of yours?"

"Ever October with pride," Digory said, tipping his cap. "And how's me favorite ladies?"

They exchanged pleasantries, laughter weaving through their words like an old, familiar tune.

"Right, then," Digory said after a while, clapping his paws together. "Let's get this lad's things loaded up."

He hefted Matthias' trunks with ease, carrying them out to his car, a Bentley 8 Litre parked at the curb. The car's black paint gleamed dully in the morning light, its curves a stark contrast to the horse carts still common in the city.

Matthias lingered in the doorway, casting a final glance at the townhouse. He felt a pang of nostalgia twist with the thrill of the unknown.

Belle hugged him tightly, her voice trembling. "You'll write, won't you?"

"Of course, Grandma," he promised, kissing her cheek. Nonna patted his arm, her grip firm despite her years.

"Make us proud, Matthias," she said simply.

With a final wave, he climbed into the passenger seat beside Digory. The engine purred to life, and they were off.

Matthias waved through the window as Belle and Nonna grew smaller in the distance.

~

The city faded behind them, its cobblestone streets giving way to winding country lanes bordered by hedgerows and golden fields. The air grew fresher, tinged with the scent of hay and wildflowers, and Matthias felt the tension of the past weeks begin to unravel.

He stole a glance at Digory, who steered the car with a relaxed confidence, one paw resting lightly on the wheel.

"So, lad," Digory said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Ever been to Seabreeze?"

“No,” Matthias admitted. "I've heard of it, though, a mix of humans and beastmen?"

"Aye, that's right. We've got all sorts down there; dogs, cats, a few foxes here and there. Friendly folk, though. Ye'll settle in quick enough."

Matthias nodded, his mind drifting to what he knew of beastmen. They were part of the world, woven into its fabric, yet he'd never crossed paths with one before.

"And the tavern?" he asked. "What's it like?"

"The Doghouse?" Digory chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "She's a grand old place, been in me family for generations. Got a few lads workin' there already. There's Bertram, a Bernese mountain dog, big fella, strong as an ox but good at heart. He tends the bar. Then Pip, a beagle, short but spry and mad for that newfangled rock 'n' roll music. Always got a tune on his lips. And in the kitchen, there's Lupus, a wolf. Quiet sort, keeps to himself, but he's solid once ya get past the growl. He also makes the best pies ye'll ever taste."

Matthias listened, picturing the characters in his mind: a towering bartender, a humming waiter, a silent cook.

It was a far cry from the stiff offices he had applied to in Crown Eastport.

"What'll I be doing there?" he asked.

"Bit of everything, I reckon," Digory said. "Help behind the bar, wait tables, maybe lend a hand in the kitchen if Lupus takes to ye. And who knows…Nonna mentioned ye paint. Tavern sign could use a touch-up, and I'm sure others in the village will be interested."

A smile tugged at Matthias's lips. "I'd like that."

They talked as the miles rolled by, Digory spinning tales of Seabreeze, its fishing boats and salt-worn cottages, its mix of human and beastman traditions. Matthias asked about beastmen, their customs and quirks, and Digory answered with patience and pride. He painted a picture of a community where differences were welcomed, and everyone knew each other.

The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the fields when the Bentley crested a hill.

Below them lay Seabreeze, cradled in a cove where the sea glittered like molten gold. Whitewashed cottages clung to the cliffs, their chimneys trailing thin threads of smoke, and the harbor bustled with boats swaying gently on the tide. Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries mingling with the distant crash of waves.

"Welcome to Seabreeze, lad," Digory said, his voice warm with affection.

~

The Bentley rumbled to a halt in front of the Doghouse Tavern, its engine coughing softly as Digory pulled the car up to the gravel path.

Matthias peered through the dusty window, taking in the sight of the two-story building before him.

The tavern was a rustic affair, its weathered wooden exterior darkened by years of coastal winds and salt spray. A hand-painted sign creaked above the door, depicting a shaggy dog sprawled by a fire, swaying gently in the breeze.

Beyond the tavern, the bay unfurled in a breathtaking silver-blue sweep as waves glinted under the late afternoon sun. To the side, a narrow footpath stretched out, one way dipping toward a pebbled beach where the sea whispered against the stones, the other climbing along the downs and up into the surrounding dales. The rolling hills were dotted with wildflowers and grazing sheep, reminding Matthias of pictures from around the Empire he’d seen before.

It all possessed a serene and timeless beauty that felt worlds away from the city he’d left behind.

Matthias stepped out of the car, the crunch of gravel underfoot mingling with the distant cry of gulls. The air was crisp and briny, laced with the faint sweetness of heather from the dales. He stretched his cramped limbs, grateful to be free of the car’s confines after the long drive from Crown Eastport. Digory clambered out after him, brushing off his tweed jacket as he retrieved Matthias’s battered trunks from the back.

Before Matthias could take in more of his surroundings, the tavern door swung open with a bang.

Out bounded another beastman, a massive Bernese mountain dog, all grins and a wagging tail. His thick fur – black, white, and rust – rippled as he loped toward them, his feet kicking up little puffs of dust. Matthias guessed this must be Bertram, a suspicion confirmed almost instantly as the dog skidded to a halt in front of Digory.

“Digory! You’re back at last!” Bertram barked, his voice booming with enthusiasm.

Digory laughed, clasping the larger beastman on the shoulder. “Aye, Bertram, and not a moment too soon. Any trouble while I was gone?”

Bertram shook his shaggy head, his tail still whipping back and forth like a metronome. “Not a whit, not a whit! All’s been quiet as a church mouse ‘round here.”

His bright eyes then swiveled to Matthias, sparkling with curiosity and unrestrained excitement. “And who’s this fine lad, eh?”

Matthias cautiously stepped forward, offering a tentative smile. “Matthias Philips. Pleased to meet you.”

He extended his hand, expecting a simple handshake, but Bertram had other ideas.

The mountain dog crouched low, his wet nose twitching as he sniffed at Matthias’s palm. Matthias froze, caught off guard by the gesture; before he could retract his hand, Bertram seized it with both of his massive paws and began shaking it with such vigor that Matthias thought his arm would come off.

“Happy to meet you, Matthias! A right pleasure, it is!” Bertram beamed, his grin stretching ear to ear. “Welcome to Seabreeze, lad!”

Matthias chuckled, warming to the exuberance. “Thank you, Bertram. I’m glad to be here.”

Digory cleared his throat, a faint smirk tugging at his muzzle. “Right, Bertram, how about you take Matthias’s things up to the room we fixed this mornin’? I’ll show him inside.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Bertram barked, scooping up the trunks as if they weighed nothing. With his tail still wagging, he trotted back into the tavern, disappearing through the doorway.

Digory gestured toward the entrance. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you settled.”

Matthias followed the sheepdog inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the tavern’s main room.

The Doghouse was quieter than he’d expected, a peaceful hush broken only by the soft crackle of a fire in the stone hearth and the faint hum of a radio playing a jaunty tune. The air carried the comforting scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, and a hint of spilled ale. Wooden beams crisscrossed the low ceiling, and the furniture – tables and chairs worn smooth by years of use – gave the place a lived-in charm.

A handful of patrons dotted the room, a curious mix of humans and beastmen.

Matthias’s gaze drifted over them. At one table, a sturdy-looking iguana in a thick sweater and overalls sat beside a shark beastman dressed similarly, their heads bent over mugs of ale. Nearby, a white tiger in a modest suit sipped at a teacup, his posture regal yet approachable. At the bar, a burly highland cow with shaggy, reddish-brown fur and long, curving horns nursed a pint, his work clothes patched but clean. And in the corner by the fireplace sat a polar bear in clerical attire sat quietly, a book open before him.

Maneuvering between the tables was a wiry beagle with a crisp apron thrown over his blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He hummed as he wiped down tables, his short tail wagged in time with a tune coming out of an old radio on the bar.

The beagle looked up as they entered, his ears perking with recognition.

“Digory! Welcome back!” he called out, setting down his cloth and coming over.

“Good to see you too, Pip,” Digory replied, clapping the beagle on the shoulder. “This here’s Matthias Philips. He’ll be stayin’ with us and pitchin’ in where he can.”

Pip turned to Matthias, his brown eyes warm and attentive. Unlike Bertram, he didn’t sniff but instead offered a paw for a proper shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Matthias. I’m Pip. Anything you need, just give me a shout.”

Matthias shook his paw, noting the polite firmness of the grip. “Thank you, Pip. I will.”

Movement at the kitchen window caught Matthias’s attention. A black wolf, his fur sleek and dark, placed a steaming plate of food on the sill and rang a small brass bell. He then turned his head, his golden eyes fixing on the group by the door in a silent, steady stare.

Digory nodded toward the kitchen. “That’s Lupus, our cook. Lupus, this is Matthias.”

Matthias raised a hand in greeting. “Hello.”

The wolf held his gaze for a moment, his expression inscrutable, before dipping his head slightly and disappearing into the kitchen without a word. Matthias frowned, a pang of unease settling in his chest.

“I didn’t upset him somehow, did I?” he asked, glancing at Pip.

The beagle chuckled, nudging Matthias’s arm. “Not a bit. That was downright friendly for Lupus, first meetin’ someone. He’s not much for talkin’, but he’s a good sort.”

Digory smiled reassuringly. “He’ll come ‘round in his own time. Now, I hate to ask so soon, but could you lend Pip a hand with the tables? We’re expectin’ a few more folks later.”

Matthias nodded eagerly. “Of course. I’d be glad to.”

He set to work alongside Pip, clearing empty mugs and wiping down surfaces. Before long, Bertram returned from upstairs, whistling cheerfully as he took up his post behind the bar, restocking bottles and polishing glasses with a rag.

Over the next few hours, Matthias grew more acquainted with the tavern’s patrons.

The iguana and the shark – James Atkinson and Herriot Taylor respectively – were two of the local fishermen who stopped in after a long day at work. Both were weathered from the many years at sea they’d endured.

James caught Matthias’s eye and gave a nod, his voice gravelly as he spoke. “Newcomer, eh? Hope you like fish. It’s half our diet here.”

Matthias smiled in a self-conscious manner as the iguana and shark laughed heartily.

“In all seriousness, lab,” Herriot added when they calmed down, “it’s nice having a new face around here. You’re in for a peaceful, quiet sort of life here in the village.”

“It’s a change from the city,” Matthias replied, accepting their empty mugs, “I think it will be nice.”

The white tiger, Dr. Morris Harrison, looked up from his tea, his whiskers twitching.

“Ah, a city lad, are you? Well, Seabreeze has its own charms. If the fresh sea air doesn’t outright cure you, my clinic’s just up the lane.” The doctor was the village’s general practitioner, skilled in tending to both humans and beastmen.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Matthias replied, appreciating the offer.

Angus Robinson, the highland cow, let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Don’t let the doc scare you, laddie. We’re a hardy bunch here. Though, if you’re ever needin’ a hand with heavy liftin’, I’m your man; these old bones still got some lift in ‘em.”

Matthias chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The polar bear, Father Clifford Walker, closed his book and offered a gentle smile. “Welcome to Seabreeze, my son. If you need a quiet moment or are seeking guidance, the church doors are always open.”

Matthias nodded respectfully. “Thank you, Father.”

The tavern filled with villagers, the air thick with laughter and the clink of cutlery. As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew warmer and more convivial. The scent of cooking food wafted through the room, mingling with the aroma of drinks.

Illumination from the fireplace and lamps cast a soft glow over the worn wooden tables and the faces of friends and neighbors gathered to share stories and camaraderie. The hum of conversation rose and fell like a comforting melody, punctuated by occasional bursts of hearty laughter.

On the bar, the radio began playing one of Pip’s favored rock ‘n’ roll tunes, the music mingling with the comfortable atmosphere. The tavern was more than just a place to eat and drink; it was the heart of the village, a sanctuary where people could escape their daily toils and find solace in the company of others.

Among the newcomers was a family, a farmer, his wife, and their three children. The eldest, a young woman around Matthias’s age, stood out immediately. Her dark hair was cut short in a modern style, framing a face that seemed to light up the room with her smile. She moved with quiet confidence, helping her younger siblings settle at the table while chatting animatedly with her parents.

Matthias felt his heart skip a beat, the world around him slowing as if caught in a dream. Everything seemed to blur into the background, the noise of the bustling tavern fading into a distant hum.

In novels, he’d read about moments like this, where time seemed to stand still and every detail became vividly clear, but he never imagined it could happen in real life. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, a mix of emotions that left him breathless. Was this what they called love at first sight?

The idea seemed almost absurd, too romantic, too unreal… and yet, here he was, experiencing it firsthand. His eyes were locked onto the girl across the tavern, and in that instant, he felt an inexplicable connection, a pull that defied logic and reason.

It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted it to happen.

“Matthias, you alright?” Pip’s voice broke through his reverie, the beagle eyeing him curiously.

Matthias blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. “Ah, yes, sorry. I was just… thinking.”

Pip followed his gaze and grinned knowingly. “Ah, that’s Alice Evens. The oldest daughter of the Evens family. They’ve got a farm just outside the village. She’s a real gem, that one.”

Matthias nodded, unable to tear his eyes away as Alice laughed at something her brother said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

~

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the tavern gradually emptied, the last of the patrons trickling out into the cool night air with nods and murmuring goodnights. Matthias helped Digory, Pip, and Bertram clean the main room, sweeping floors, and stacking chairs. The work was tiring but satisfying, and he found himself humming along to the faint tune still playing on the radio.

Digory paused, leaning on a broom. “So, Matthias, what do you make of the place?”

Matthias looked around, taking in the warm glow of the fire and the faint sound of waves beyond the walls. “It’s wonderful. The tavern, the village; it’s all so peaceful. Nothing like the noise and bustle of the Crown Eastport.”

Digory laughed, a deep, hearty sound as he clapped Matthias on the back, nearly sending him stumbling. “Glad to hear it, lad. You did well tonight. A natural, I’d say.”

The sheepdog’s eyes then twinkled mischievously. “Now then, tell me lad. Which pretty lass caught your eye during the dinner rush, eh?”

Matthias felt his face turn hot. “Wha – ?! I… uh…”

Nearby, Pip chuckled. “It’s alright, Matthias. We all saw you staring.”

Matthias sighed, defeated. “Okay… it was Alice.”

Bertram, carrying a tray of clean glasses, smiled bemusedly. “Alice Evens? She’s a kind one. Always has something nice to say, helps out at the farms and market, and volunteers at the church.”

Digory nodded sagely. “Aye, she is. A real looker as well, but more than that, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Smart as a whip, too.”

Pip raised his glass of water in a mock toast. “To Matthias and his future endeavors!”

Digory joined in, winking at Matthias. “May you find happiness here in Seabreeze, lad, in all things.”

Just then, Lupus emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with food; scotch eggs, meat pies, mashed potatoes, roast beef, vegetables, and a sticky toffee pudding that glistened invitingly.

He set it down before them without a word and retreated back into his domain.

Digory grinned and gestured at the spread. “Looks like Lupus has left us a feast, lads. Come, work’s done, time for a bite.”

Matthias glanced at the retreating wolf. “Won’t Lupus join us?”

The sheepdog shook his head, pulling out a chair. “Nah, lad. Lupus prefers to eat alone. Always has. But don’t take it personally; he’s just solitary.”

They dug into the meal, the flavors rich and comforting after a long day’s work. Matthias savored every bite, the warmth of the food and the company easing the last of his nerves.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily; Pip hummed along to a tune only he could hear, Bertram shared a humorous story about a mishap with a barrel of ale, and Digory spoke of the village’s upcoming summer festival.

By the time they finished, the sky outside had darkened to a deep indigo. Stars twinkled above the bay as a cozy darkness settled over Seabreeze and the bay.
Digory stood, stretching his arms. “Right, Matthias, let’s get you to your room.”

Matthias followed the sheepdog up a creaking staircase to the second floor. At the end of the hall, next to a small bathroom, Digory opened a door and stepped aside. “Here you are.”

The room was small but cozy, with a slanted ceiling and a window overlooking the bay. A bed was tucked into one corner, a patchwork quilt spread neatly over it. A window offered a stunning view of the bay, the moonlight dancing on the water.

Under the window sat a small writing desk, and along one wall stood a dresser and a closet. The walls were bare, but Matthias could already imagine them adorned with his sketches and paintings.

The scent of polished wood and fresh linens filled the air.

Digory scratched his ear, a touch sheepishly. “It’s not much, mind, but I hope it’ll suit you.”

Matthias stepped inside, running his hand along the desk, the perfect place to pen letters to Belle and Nonna.

His eyes lingered on the window, already imagining setting up his easel there, the morning light streaming in as he painted. He could arrange his paints and brushes neatly on the dresser.

“It’s perfect,” he said, turning to Digory with a smile. “I like it.”

The sheepdog’s face brightened. “Good to hear. My room’s just down the hall if you need me. Settle in, lad, and rest up.”

With a nod, Digory turned and headed to his own quarters, leaving Matthias alone. The boy closed the door softly, the quiet of the room enveloping him.

Unpacking a few essentials, he set his sketchbook on the dresser, then sat on the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. The distant murmur of the sea drifted through the window, a soothing counterpoint to the whirlwind of the day.

It had been a leap, first leaving Crown Eastport and then stepping into a world of beastmen and seaside simplicity, but as Matthias lay back, a sense of calm settled over him.

Seabreeze was new, strange, and wonderful, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the stirrings of belonging. Tomorrow would bring its own adventures, but for now, he was content to drift off, the promise of a fresh start lulling him to sleep.

---

Another preview for an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while, changing here and there over time. Originally, Digory was going to be the wolf, but I changed my mind after seeing some pictures of an Old English sheepdog; the image worked better in my head

A lot of inspiration came from a number of BBC shows featuring a newcomer to a small village, in particular All Creatures Great And Small (1978) which is based off the book of the same name by James Herriot.

For those wondering - the village of Seabreeze was inspired by real-life Port Isaac, with the Yorkshire Dales as the surrounding countryside... well, that's how I envisioned it

Each chapter of the book (once I get around to it) will be its own adventure, episodic if you will, focusing mainly on Matthias' adventures in Seabreeze, interacting with the locals, and working in the Doghouse Tavern... well, that's the plan so far, things may change at a latter time

Here's some of the themes for the shows that inspired this preview:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bU9CmGJTdYc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymqjYrFhjG8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRCl2xNKl2g

At the same time, I could picture this pieces as the main theme of this story, given how Rock 'N' Roll its a new thing in this world

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSCN8UpHL7Y

Anyway, please read and enjoy ^_^

~ Aaron