Chapter 45: Bunking at the Imperial Outpost

Alcar walked into the taproom beside the stable, and then stopped so rapidly that Olynka bumped into him. In front of them, in the middle of the wooden floor, lay a man’s body – and it was in a pool of blood.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Brutus whined gently at his feet.

“That’s a civilian, by the looks of him,” said Olynka, coming to Alcar’s other side. “Is he... dead?“

A small cluster of people was starting to form around the body. Among them, a woman with the catlike-features of the felaxian people leaned over at his side, looking sorrowful, while a muscular human barman was crouched at the man’s head, touching two fingers to the pulse point in his neck.

The taproom was large, and around half of the tables were occupied by a soldier or two. Most of them were staring at their drinks, however, or sat looking conspicuously in the other direction.

As one of the soldiers that had paused by the injured man now turned and made for the door, Olynka stepped in his path, and put one hand on his shoulder. “Good evening, Soldier. Tell me, please – what happened here?”

The soldier was a young elvish man with short red hair and a beard, and he looked nervous at being asked the question, his eyes flicking towards the body on the ground and then towards the door. “I need to move on, Miss. An early start, you see.”

“Just tell us, then, and you can get on your way,” she insisted.

“Ah...” Hesitating, the young soldier glanced around again, perhaps checking that he was out of earshot of any of his fellows. Then he leaned closer to Olynka. “It was Skizol – the shadow knight. Ran the man through with a single sword blow. Skizol kills without remorse, and on a whim.”

“He’s one of the Knights of Dawn?” she asked.

“Then you know enough already.” With this, the young soldier pushed past, but he paused at the door for a moment more, looking Alcar up and down. “Don’t let the knight see you in those robes, man. He’ll assume your a monitor or a sorcerer. And then you’ll be done for.”

Olynka and Alcar made eye contact for a moment as the young soldier pushed his way out of the taproom, but without responding to the elf’s warning, Alcar moved over and crouched by the man’s body on the floor. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

The barman looked up. “Are you a healer?”

Alcar shook his head. “No. We had one with us, but she had to head back to Katresburg.”

“It’s too late for this guy anyway,” said the felaxian. “Unless your friend is also a necromancer.”

Alcar looked around at the stranger, and nodded. He found the felaxian very striking to look at; like others of her kind, her face and arms were covered in fur, but hers was unusual – at least in Alcar’s experience – in being nearly jet black. But then, her species were pretty rare in Katresburg. He had probably only seen a dozen of them in his life.

Brutus came to Alcar’s side as he crouched at the man’s side, and then sat, and whined again. “It’s okay, boy,” said Alcar. “Good boy. Don’t you worry. That knight has gone.”

“For now,” muttered the felaxian, with obvious distaste.

Now she, too, stood back, as three soliders came over. “We’ll move the body, Thom,” said one, addressing the barman.

“If you’re sure... we can clean the place up after.”

The solider nodded. “Yes. That would be best.”

As the barman and the felaxian – who appeared to also be an employee – stood back to let the soldiers get to work, Olynka nudged Alcar’s elbow, and then led him over to a table in a shady corner of the taproom. There they sat in silence for a couple of minutes as they man’s body was taken out through a side door, and the two staff began to mop up the blood.

Before long, Etienne come into the taproom, and after looking around for a few moments, he hurried over to join them, taking a seat at the small table.

“Why so quiet?” he asked, passing a meaty bone to Brutus, who quickly settled down under the table to chew it. What’s going on?”

“That warhorse we saw,” said Olynka. “It belongs to a knight by the name of Skizol.”

“Ah. Yes, I think I saw him,” said the halfling, shuddering slightly. “A real brute. His face, he has a cold, vicious look to him.”

“Yeah, well,” said Olynka. “That fits. He killed a man right in here, just minutes ago, I think. We just watched the poor guy’s blood being mopped up.”

Etienne’s eyes widened, and he looked across to the other tables. “None of these soldiers intervened?”

“It was like they were trying not to see what happened,” said Alcar.”

“They’re probably scared. This Skizol is a shadow knight – an elite. And the Knights of Dawn work for the Emperor himself.”

“I’m sorry about all that,” said a voice from one side, and Alcar looked around to see the black-furred felaxian had come to their table. “We do so try to keep things civil around here. Sometimes soldiers argue or even fight after a few ales, but it’s not normal to see something like that. Not normal at all.”

“What did the man do to upset the knight?”

“Absolutely nothing that I saw,” said the woman, lowering her voice and leaning in. “The man was a stable hand, and he just brushed past Skizol on his way in. The knight turned and drew his sword, yelling for an apology. When the man didn’t apologise immediately, he...” She tailed off, lowering her head and shrugging. “Well – you saw.”

“It must have been horrible for you,” said Alcar. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, and nodded a fraction. “Thank you. Anyhow, my name is Seluff, and I’m one of the servers here. Welcome! You’ve travelled a long way, by the looks of you. Would you like some stew, as well as ale?”

“Yes please,” said Etienne brightly, speaking for the three of them. “And make the ales large ones.”

“Um, well I...” began Alcar, and then paused.

“What’s wrong?” asked Olynka.

Thinking about how sick he felt the morning after their previous drinking session, Alcar hesitated. “I just...”

But Olynka had already looked back at Seluff. “Oh – and a bowl of water for the dog, please.”

Seluff nodded with an inscrutable smile, and moved away.