Chapter 8 - In the Tavern

Edwin and Emiko had found a table to themselves in the tavern. They sat in a corner by the wall which led to the front door. Edwin could see the door to his left. The bar in front of him on the other side of the tavern. The stage was behind him to his right.

On stage, a black-haired bard strummed away at a twelve-string instrument Edwin had never seen before. I guess that’s a guitar the alchemist thought, remembering reading about them in a book on bergeracs, a long-nosed and ostentatious people skilled with rapiers, known for swashbuckling.

The bard himself was certainly an elf. Probably from Westhalion. He can really play thought Edwin as he watched the elf-man’s fingers slide up and down the frets. The guitarist was lost in the music, wildly strumming. What a showman. He doesn’t belong here. He belongs in a big city.

“I cannot believe we are finally here,” said Emiko. “We are going to sleep safely tonight.”

“For now, yeah,” said Edwin. He watched Froggy at the counter selling his collection of lizardboy thumbs and bullywugger feet. “Apparently, Froggy collects a bounty for those monster parts. We need to keep that in mind.”

“Oh, yes! That would be a good way to make money and get stronger.”

“Exactly. We’ll make a lot more money taking jobs though.”

“How will we get our licenses as freelancers?”

“We have three choices: we can find a sponsor, we can save up the money ourselves to purchase them, or we can join the party of someone who already has a license.”

“How much do licenses cost?

“Last I heard before getting here… 1,000 gold pieces.”

“1,000 gold pieces!”

“Yes. So, we’re going to say buying them ourselves isn’t an option.”

“Are you sure? How many lizardboys would we have to kill?”

“Probably thousands,” said Edwin as he pointed to Froggy sweeping a small pile of silver into the same bag he’d carried the monster parts in. I thought certainly he’d make more for those. “We could find a sponsor, but I doubt we’ll have much luck with that. That’ll take a while. So… we need to make friends.”

“We need to join a party,” agreed Emiko.

“Exactly.”

The door opened. In walked a red-haired elf-man. He was dressed like a tavern performer: bare arms, bare legs, and a large cloak. A noble-looking elf-man in a blue tunic followed him. What odd fellows thought Edwin. They look kind of… well, who am I to judge. That’s the Church’s job. Must be a noble and his “bodyguard.”

“What about those two?” asked Emiko as she watched the pair walk up to the bar. “They look like freelancers, and if they are, maybe we can join them. It looks like there are only two of them. I am sure they need help!”

“No... “ said Edwin. “I don’t think they’re freelancers. I think…” Edwin wondered what exactly he should tell her. “I think that’s just a noble and his bodyguard.”

“Oh! A noble. Maybe he could sponsor us!”

“Maybe. We’ll talk to them if they leave. I’m not sure we really want to be sponsored by someone who’s… well, he just might have work we’re not really cut out for,” said Edwin, chuckling to himself.

“Do not make this hard, Edwin. Beggars cannot be choosers.”

“I think the bodyguard’s the one making things hard,” said Edwin with a sly giggle.

Emiko gave him a puzzled look.

“Oh! I get it. They are f—”

“Ho! Emiko. You don’t wanna use that word. That’s how you get… stabbed in the back. Pun not intended.”

“You shouldn’t be so judgemental, Edwin,” said Emiko. “They probably just love each other.”

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m a secularist. I’m not judgemental. Who cares what two guys do alone in a room. I just don’t think we’ll be doing the kind of freelancing we anticipated if they sponsor us. There’s a lot of guys like that back in Ealdendale. Even a few in the University. They usually keep to themselves, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that all they think about is sex.”

Emiko’s face turned red at the word.

“That’s just not the line of work I’m trying to get into. He’s probably not a bodyguard, Emiko. He’s probably a tavern performer. I’m not trying to perform fights with a sweaty guy in a tavern. No telling where that leads to.”

The door opened again. Edwin’s eyes darted over. He recognized the red cloak of a monk of the Ardent Crown. Then he saw a grey-haired dwarf, an elven knight, and…

“Woah! Get a load of that guy, Emiko. That’s an Al-jihen!”

“A what?”

“The guy with the red skin. Most people call them devil-men, but they call themselves Al-jihen. I wonder what he’s doing travelling with a monk. The religious kind usually hate their types.”

“Why is that?”

“Because religious people are bigots who can’t think for themselves. They hate who the Church tells them to hate.”

“You do not think it is because he looks scary that people hate him?”

“Well, that too. Everything I’ve ever read says that the blood of devils runs through their veins. I’ve always wondered if that was true. I think I ought to talk to that guy some time. They really have all types around here.”

“Maybe we should see if they have a freelancing license.”

“What? And join the party of a monk? I’m not working with a monk, Emiko. They’re idiots. He’ll get us killed for sure.” He remembered the black wolf. And the white wolf. There’s nothing to this religion stuff. Just a bunch of stories and hallucinations that people take too seriously. That and magic they don’t understand. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean “God” did it. It just means we need to study it more.

“Beggars cannot be—”

“Choosers! I know. But, we have to be a little picky here. These are our lives we’re gambling with. Freelancing is dangerous work. You don’t want to go out into the marches with the wrong people.”

Edwin’s eyes darted over to the red-haired man at the bar. He’d slammed his fist on the counter.

“What do you mean you’ll post it? They’ll be dead by the time someone takes the job! Lives are at stake here!” he yelled. The whole tavern went quiet for him. The bard stopped playing his guitar. “We don’t have time for this. Do it the old fashioned way.” The bartender said something back. “No! I don’t care! If you don’t have the balls to do it, I will!”

Is this part of his performance? wondered Edwin. He’s the toughest sounding bodyguard I’ve ever heard.

The red-haired man marched over to a table in the middle of the tavern. “Excuse me! Pardon me!” he yelled as he passed people. “Mind if I borrow this? Thanks!” he yelled as he climbed up on the table, covered in drinks and cards.

“Listen here, you dogs! There’s a cart overturned on the road. Merchants. Attacked by aeons, no doubt. We’re going to rescue them: a test of might and magic, courage and cleverness. We have no time to waste! Which of you bastards has any balls?”

“How much are you paying?” yelled a voice from another corner.

“It’s not about the money. It’s about protecting the roads.”

“Boo! He’s poor!”

“No pay? No work!”

“Get him outta here!”

The man’s face turned as red as his hair. Not with embarrassment; a man who could confidently wear that getup had probably never been embarrassed in his life. Rage. He looked as though he could kill every man in the tavern.

Bastards! All of you! thought Rayn Redstride as he jumped down from the table. Back in the day, I’d have had the whole tavern ready to go. Everyone was always ready to fight the good fight. Sure, we were in it for the coin. It was a business. But we were tradesmen, and we were good at our trade. We plied it well.

“Are you sure you are right about him, Edwin?”

No. I’m not sure.

“Maybe we should go with him.”

Edwin watched the monk go over and speak to the red-haired man. The six men turned to leave the tavern together.

“Edwin! They are leaving. What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to show him our balls.”

Emiko stared at him, blinked, then stared some more.

“I mean, we’re going to get up and fight, Emiko! He’s right. It’s not about the money. It’s about who we are as people. Are we cowards, or are we real, living, breathing beings ready to answer the call to action?”

“Let’s go, Edwin! Hiyah!”

The two got up and rushed out the door after the six men who had left. The bard watched them. He had never started playing again. The crowd heckled him as he stared at the door. He grabbed the pot they’d been throwing coins into for him; he dumped them in a large purse, and he headed for the door.