Chapter 12

Caught off guard by the sour smell, our eyes slowly adjust to the inn’s lighting. The door we just entered opens into a huge open space inside the inn. Right in front of us is stretch of dirt bordered by wooden flooring that stretches all the way to another wall on the other side of the room. The dirt clearing has four evenly spaced fire pits in it and above every fire there’s a metal rack holding various kinds of meat, slowly roasting the meat as glistening, sizzling oil drips into the fire below. The very last rack on the other side of this great hall even has a whole pig being slowly roasted by a young boy who can’t be older than ten winters. On top of the wooden floors bordering the dirt are two incredibly long tables littered with mugs both full and empty, wooden spoons both dirty and clean, bowls with soup or vegetables either full or half eaten, old vegetables on the verge of turning black, apples still red and juicy, apple cores dried and rotting, stale bread that looks like it could kill if used as a club, moldy bread that looks like it could kill if someone unknowingly ate it, slabs of meat messily thrown aside, bones clean of every last morsel of meat, puddles of what could only be ale or piss, and the drunks who made this whole mess. The drunks are sitting on equally long benches on both sides of each table and some of them are already lying down on the benches, seemingly passed out. It’s a cacophony of noise as people shout at each other, shout over each other, and shout just to be heard. I didn’t realize this before because of the noise but there’s a minstrel in the right corner of the room strumming on an instrument with strings. He’s red in the face either from the ale or from trying his hardest to get the drunks to listen to him sing. It looks like he’s had enough of trying because he just used his instrument to smash a drunk over the head who stumbled into him. The two begin to fight but no one else around them cares enough to stop them. Instead, the people surrounding them are taking coins out of their pockets to bet on the winner. What an astonishing feeling, what a fantastic place.

I’m broken out of my reverie when Wraine pulls me by the arm toward the left side of the hall where there’s a wooden counter and a burly middle aged man with black hair is standing behind it, serving drinks. As we headed over there, I could feel my boots sinking into something and when I looked down, I could see a disgusting multicolored sludge spread across the wood flooring. If the hall wasn’t as loud, I might be able to hear my boots squishing on this sludge as I step on it. Seeing us approach him, the burly man, who seems to be the innkeep, gives out a grunt and keeps pouring ale from the tap of a barrel behind him, one of many that when stacked together and on top of each other looks like a wall built entirely from barrels.

Wraine seems to understand the man better than me and asks, “Need a bed for the night. How much?”

Without stopping his drink serving for even a moment, he says, “9 copper for a bed in the back, 50 for a private room with one bed, 80 for the same with two instead.”

“We’ll take the bed in the back. What’s the cheapest you got to eat?”

“2 copper pieces for an egg, you can grab them out of the pot over there. Or you can fill yourself up with some ale instead, 3 copper for a cup. If you’re wanting some meat, a bowl of pottage is 6 copper and half of a rabbit is 8.”

Wraine takes a look inside of our coin pouch with a scrunched brow. I don’t blame him. Today was our first day with money and it’s already gone. Sighing, he glances at me before shrugging and saying, “Give us two ales.” Hmm, interesting choice. Wraine pays for the bed and ales as the innkeep fills two wooden mugs to the brim before slamming them down in front of us.

With our mugs in hand, we wander over to the two long tables and find two empty spots on the right table. Before we can even sit down, we have to shove empty mugs and rotting leftovers off our seats. We put down our weapons next to us where we can keep an eye on them. Is this how everyone does it? Looking around, no one else is carrying around weapons but no one is looking at us too oddly either which is fine I suppose. Sitting down, I take a tiny sip of my ale to get an idea of why this drink can drive these people to this extent. It’s not bad enough that I’m forced to spit it out but it sure does put a frown on my face. Looks like Wraine has the same reaction going by his expression. People really love this shit, huh? Alright, fine, I’ll learn to love it too I guess. Taking a bigger gulp, the warm ale floods my mouth with its bitterness before going down. There is a slightly sweet aftertaste that I enjoy and another taste I recognize. Now what is that? Taking in a mouthful of the piss yellow liquid, I swirl it around in my mouth trying to remember why this tastes familiar and then it hits me, the Alara flower. Well, not the flower but its root. It has the same unique taste and I suppose the ale was made using Alara root. I mentioned this to Wraine but apparently he can’t taste it. After we’ve both gotten a taste of the ale, Wraine grabs the food bag and takes a handful before handing it to me. I do the same and shove a random handful into my mouth before washing it down with ale. Now that was pretty good. I’m about to hand the sack back when someone sits down right next to me and puts their arm around my shoulder.

“Now what do we have here? A child having their first taste of ale? Well, go on, tell me, how was it?” A middle aged man with thinning light brown hair and a matching full beard asks with his red face right next to mine, separated by an inch. I can even feel his plump belly resting on top of my right arm. I’m not used to this level of intimacy he’s showing me and I want to shove him away, but maybe it’s the ale and instead I smile back at him.

“Not too bad. The first sip made me want to spit it right back out but I stuck with it and I think it’s grown on me.” The rotund man found that pretty funny and started laughing. I can even feel his belly jiggling with every laugh.

“That’s what I like to hear. Tell me lads, where’re you from? Couple of young lads like yourselves carrying in such heavy arms draws the eyes you know?”

“That so? We’re here from Misanth. Ribierians burned down the village a few weeks ago and we had nowhere else to go. Been living off the land since and this is our first night in Mountain’s Toil.” Seems like my plan worked. The stout man puts on a sad face and starts patting me on the shoulder.

“You boys aren’t much older than my own son and you’ve already bled in this war. Dark times, dark times indeed. Margaret! A round of drinks for these lads on me. I can’t do a fucking thing in this war of ours but if we’ve got survivors here then some drinks is the least I can do.” Sympathy is one powerful emotion. A young, pretty woman with orange hair, apparently named Margaret, hands Wraine and I two full mugs before giving Wraine a wink and then getting back to her work. Now that’s just unfair. Sighing loudly, I finish my first ale and gulp down half of my second before stopping. I think I understand alcohol now. Seeing the whole thing, the stout man loses his mind and starts howling uncontrollably while pounding on the table, causing all the garbage on it to start shaking. His outburst draws a lot of attention and people start gathering around to find out what’s going on. Hearing that we’re from a razed village, the other patrons start ordering drinks for us. Uh oh. Even the minstrel from before is sitting next to us now, with a new black eye however. He starts singing a song that I think is about war and every person around us joins him. While all this is happening, the other patrons are toasting Wraine and I for fighting bravely in Misanth and they’re forcing us to drink. Somehow the story we told the stout man has already morphed into something else entirely within just a few minutes. I don’t know how many mugs I’ve emptied and I don’t know how I got caught up in this atmosphere.

Feeling the need to piss, I stand up and take a single step before realizing my legs are wobbling. How. How did this even happen? Struggling my way over to the innkeep, he points to his left before I can even say a word. The man’s a professional. Stumbling in the direction he pointed, I entered a dark room with dozens of beds. There’s metal jugs in the corners of this room and after clumsily heading towards one, I’m able to relieve myself but not without getting some stains on my pants. When I’m done, I contemplate vomiting into the jug but I manage to hold it in. I head back towards the lighted hall but I stop when I see Wraine stumbling his way into this room, holding both of our weapons. Seeing me, he shakes his head and tries to say something but he’s slurring his words so badly that I cannot understand a single thing he said. I try to explain how I can’t understand him but he shows his confusion as well. Getting frustrated with this situation, he nods his head toward one of the beds and wobbles over to it before shoving our items under the bed. Once that’s done, he sits on the bed and takes off his boots before shoving those under the bed as well. Finished, he lies down on the bed and drapes the covers over himself, leaving half of the bed still empty. I guess this is what you get for 9 copper. I do the same and once I’m under the covers I quickly drift off to sleep.

Tonight I dreamt of the city. Once again I’m amazed at how splendorous the iron spires are. As I walk down the dark street, lights materialize on both sides of the street and banish the darkness away while at the same time it illuminates just how devoid of life the city is. Ever since I started having these dreams, I’ve never seen another person wandering this city like I do during my dreams. I’ve never even seen any traces of anyone else living here. It seems as though this city was abandoned even though it looks perfectly fine. The lights work perfectly fine as well and when I walk close to them, they turn on by themselves. These conveniences might seem extravagant but this city and the ones who built it have developed beyond any common threshold and although seemingly minor, the conveniences all contribute towards making this city absolutely perfect. After picking an iron spire at random, I enter the building and find my way towards a shaft inside the building which can deliver its passengers to any of the building’s floors. Once inside the shaft, I choose to access this building’s rooftop and I soon find myself standing at the very top of this gigantic iron spire. Looking around, all I can see is the night sky around me and a very comfortable feeling calms my mind. Yes, this is where I’m supposed to be. Everything here feels familiar like I’ve been here thousands of times before. A word even enters my mind subconsciously and dances on my lips like I’m trying to remember how to say it. That’s right, I remember now. This isn’t an iron spire, it’s a skyscraper.