Kal woke to a bitter taste in his mouth, overpowering the lingering taste of blood.

He spat and tried to sit up, and a heavy hand held him down as a powerful, calm voice spoke to him.

“Easy there, Kalin. You’re hurt.”

It was the [Tanner], he realized with surprise when he was finally able to open his stinging eyes.The woman held a small glass bottle that glowed red with the magical residue of a {Healing} potion. A cork dangled from a thin metal chain on the side of the bottle.

Kal’s eyes widened. Healing potions were not cheap. Even the Order only issued them to mages who were heading into known combat zones, and there were still shortages sometimes. It took a proficient and decent-leveled [Alchemist] to make even Minor Healing Potions. Kalin had taken a basic Alchemy class at the outpost, as all [Dragon-Mages] were expected to know the basics of what common potions did and which ingredients were worth keeping an eye out for. Turns out it took a subtle eye to recognize the difference between the common grasswort used to promote healing and deadly moss-bloom used by [Assassin]’s to make poison for their blades. Kal had liked that class. Who knew moss could be so deadly?

The [Tanner] carefully worked the cork into the mouth of the bottle, then put it away. Kal saw with some relief that it was almost entirely full. She’d only given him enough of the glowing liquid to keep him from succumbing to his wounds. If it worked like the potions he’d heard of, it would take care of the most grievous injuries first, only moving on to more minor ones once the big stuff was healed. Based on the pain still coming from the slashes on his chest, arm, and side, she’d known exactly how much to give him.

Which raised the question, where did a [Tanner] get knowledge like that, much less the actual potion, which could cost anywhere from 50 silver to a full gold coin? He had no idea, but his internal injuries appreciated it. He would have to find some way to repay her when things had settled a bit.

Kal wasn’t sure how bad his wounds had been before the potion, but it must have been bad. Maybe that ward-chain reaction had been more efficient that he’d thought.

Before he could ask about it, a man Kalin recognized as the [Innkeeper] approached, holding a towel in his hand like he was getting ready to smack Kalin silly with it.

“Is every—” Kalin’s voice came out as a croak when he tried to speak, and the [Innkeeper] thrust a mug of ale Kalin hadn’t seen into his hand. He drank gratefully as the man launched into his tirade.

“Aye, everybody’s fine. You know who’s not, though? My fecking inn. Your idiot blast-staff or whatever mage nonsense you pulled blew up half my goddamned staircase. And the kitchen. You’re lucky the good wine ’n ale were down below, because I’ve got some fifty-year whiskey down there that would’ve got off like…like…”

The man’s gestured widely around his apron-wrapped, flour-stained belly as he sought for the word.

“…like a big bloody explosion! That stuff down there is three hundred proof. Dwarven made, you know. Why, first thing I did when I saw you laying there was to go check on me cellar. Ma always used to say, if you see a mage lyin’ in a blackened circle, run for your life. I always thought she was mad, but I’ll be tipping one out for her tonight, I’m not ashamed to say…Not the dwarven stuff, obviously; Ma would hate to see the waste…”

Kal wasn’t sure about ‘three hundred proof’, but laying wounded on a table in the man’s inn didn’t seem like the place to pick a fight. After a few more long moments, the [Tanner] gently guided the [Innkeeper away by the shoulder.

“Alright, William, come on. Lad’s wounded and I know for a fact you’ve got insurance on this place, so don’t act like you’re laying down dead in the dirt when you’ve got a fat stack of coin coming your way.” She continued to reassure him as she led him away.

Looking around, Kalin saw he was laying on top of a table in the middle of the inn’s main tavern room. A cool breeze blew in, and when he turned he saw a gaping hole where a chunk of the wall and staircase had been blown out by the explosion, letting in the cool winter sunlight.

Ah, damnit. He hadn’t meant to destroy anything, just keep that bandit's knife out of his throat.

“Who was that man, and why was he attacking me? Where’s the Professor?”

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He had more questions, but he had to start somewhere.

Unfortunately, the [Tanner], whose name was Sam, didn’t have much more information than he did. She’d run over from her shop at the sound of the explosion and found him laying there. She hadn’t seen any armored men, and didn’t seem to know who he was talking about when he mentioned the Professor.

“Tall, crazy white hair, biggest eyebrows you’ve ever seen?”

Sam stared at him and shrugged. Kal lay back down and thought.

The Order taught all its recruits a method for dealing with crisis situations, and right now Kal knew he was at the stage of needing more information. He tried to sit up, wincing at the pain in his side but making it upright without too much trouble. From his raised vantage he saw the splinters of his staff mixed in with the rubble and debris from the explosion. He tried not to view the loss as a bad sign. Losing your staff at all was considered bad luck for Clerics of the Order, exploding it…He wasn’t sure if it made it better or not that he’d done it intentionally. Either way, he said a quick prayer of thanks to the staff. It had been in his hand throughout his training and had saved his life. What more could he ask?

He pushed the thoughts aside. Time for that later.

He’d be down in power without his staff if it came to a fight, and unless Sam was hiding a Mana potion somewhere, he’d barely be able to contribute at all until he found the time to sit and {Meditate} to recover it. {Combat Meditation} would’ve allowed him to regain it in the background even as he moved and spoke to people, but, as the name implied, it was only available to combat classes.

He stood up and pulled his torn up robe around his body, pulling the belt tight and pressing the fabric into his wounds. The bleeding had slowed enough. He turned to face Sam.

“Are you a healer?”

She blinked, then nodded.

“In another life. The Scourge Wars.” She shrugged. It wasn’t so unusual for combat classes to retire and take up civilian professions, but he’d assumed since she seemed to be the main [Tanner] in Krinth that she’d done it her whole life.

“Did you see anyone leaving the inn, just after the explosion?”

She shook her head. Kal turned to [Innkeeper] William, who was listening in. He thought for a moment, then shook his head as well.

“Just before the blast,” he said, pausing to glare at Kal, “the whole room went dark. Couldn’t see my fist in front of my face. By the time there was light again I heard fighting at the stairs, and everybody with half a brain left cleared the hell out.”

Kalin realized for the first time that the [Innkeeper] had soot stains in his hair, and his left pants leg was in tatters.

He was caught in the blast, Kal realized, feeling a bit sick to his stomach as he realized how close the man must’ve been. Had he even looked around before setting off the explosion? Time for guilt later, he reminded himself. And it wasn’t like he’d exactly had many other options, with a dagger coming for his throat.

The room going dark sounded like some sort of [Rogue] or [Assassin] skill, which tracked with the armored man’s fighting style. But where had they gone, if no one outside had seen them leave? The staircase had been reduced to a bunch of toothpicks, and Kal

They’d been looking for him, but what had they planned to do when they caught him? Kal was suddenly aware of the lack of weight on his back, and he saw that his pack stood propped against the leg of the table he’d been lying on. He felt an intense urge to check it for the egg, but he’d have to wait until everyone wasn’t looking right at him.

“No other exits?”

The [Innkeeper] shook his head, then paused. “Well, the back door to the kitchen, but that alley only leads back out front.

Kalin nodded, but his mind was racing. Where could they have gone? He assumed the bandit had survived the blast somehow, but a [Retired Professor] like Jeremy was much less likely to have access to any defensive skills. Kalin’s body had hopefully absorbed most of the damage, but he wasn’t sure how bad it had been before the healing potion.

Kalin may have chased off the bandit, but what if he’d killed the Professor as well? It was a bitter thought, but Kalin kept thinking. It was more likely that the bandit and Jeremy had both survived, and the bandit had dragged him off somewhere. But where…

“The cellar!”

[Innkeeper] William looked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, may as well have a drink, I suppose, but not—”

“Not that,” Kalin said, waving a hand. “How long has this building been an Inn? And you said you checked the cellar right after the explosion. Did you see anything, or hear something?"

William spoke without hesitation, a hint of pride in his voice. “One hundred and seventy two years, thank ye very much. It was founded by my—”

At a 'hurry up' motion from Kal, William said that his ears were still ringing, and he hadn't heard or seen a thing in the cellar. In fact, it had been so dark that he'd come back to make sure everyone was alright before going back down.

Kalin stood up and started walking to the kitchen, but narrowed his eyes at William. "I thought you said the first thing you did was check on that whiskey?"

[Innkeeper] William looked embarrassed to have been caught in a noble act. "Well, couldn't have me patrons laying there dying on the ground, could I? I glanced over on my way to check the lad and saw it was darker than dark down there. When things settled down I went and everything was normal. Though, now I think about it, the cellar should've been lit up with sunlight after the blast, not so dark."

Kalin hurried his pace.

[Tanner] Sam followed with a curious look on her face, and after a moment William did too.

“If this inn was here a hundred years ago..."

"One hundred and seventy two," William interrupted, but Kal kept talking as he reached the entrance to the cellar and turned to face Sam and the [Innkeeper]

"Then this inn was probably used as a shelter."

Sam hummed with recognition.

“Fallowfield,” she said simply, and Kal nodded as he stepped down the cold stone stairs into the darkness and dank of the cellar.