After renting a stall both of their mounts would fit in for a fair price, Kalos and Grimm made their way inside to speak with the innkeeper.

The Pearl Dancer’s Inn was far bigger than Kalos expected. Rather than stepping into a narrow hall, they passed through a heavy wooden door, like what might be installed as some grand entryway at a royal estate, into a wide-open tavern that had a massive hearth along the outermost wall.

A multitude of tables appeared before them with a diverse, lively mixture of customers mostly chatting and laughing together. There was at least one barmaid for every three to five tables. The interior was nearly as loud as Gotleff Square had been earlier that day. Kalos was almost certain several of the customers looked like some of the merchants and travelers he had seen at the square. Apparently they came to the Pearl Dancer's Inn to enjoy themselves at the end of the day.

In the middle of the room was a large bar situated like a galley kitchen with two counters on either side. Between the counters balanced a single, massive barrel upon a disproportionately small wooden stand that looked like it could break apart at any moment.

At Doogin’s smithy, the barrel they had drank from was about the size of a horse. At the Pearl Dancer’s Inn, the barrel was as big as an entire team of horses piled on top of one another. Kalos had never seen anything like it. Such a mammoth container could provide enough drinks to last his village an entire season before needing to be refilled.

At the base of the monumental construct, two bartenders were constantly filling mugs to be delivered by barmaids to the dozens of salty patrons and guests filling the whole place from wall to wall. From the back of the room, barmaids dashed in and out of the kitchen every few minutes with plates of freshly-cooked food. They would quickly set them down in front of whoever wanted some and either hurry back for another pass or swing around to the bar for another batch of drinks. Fresh food and drinks would flow until everyone was too full to move.

#

“I’erd da guards talkin’bout it’arlier.”

A rough-looking man in tattered clothes at a nearby table was failing miserably to keep his conversation concealed. The other tables immediately surrounding him fell quiet with suspicion all at once.

“I’m tellin’ya, ther’sailin dis way as we speak! By morn, thos’ails will be on da horizon, blood’red smoke a’pourin from der cannons wit Aelfains’breeze at their backs.” The drunkard tipped his mug as high as possible while keeping his wild eyes locked onto his crusty comrade from behind the rim.

“Ya’ole fool. I’tink dat ale’s smashed yer noggin muck’n toasty, tonight...” Their conversation shifted to a series of rantings that Kalos couldn’t quite understand due to how their thick accents were.

Kalos spoke with hushed tones, “Do you think it’s true?”

Grimm, notorious for his stone-cold expression and unwavering focus barely diverted his attention from the salted potatoes on his plate.

“More or less. One can never tell truth from lies around old salts like these.” He took a bite of the fennel-roasted fish resting beside his potatoes and chewed slowly, as if intending to savor every morsel as much as he could.

Kalos watched Grimm sit and chew for several seconds at an increasingly slower rate. He knew the man was weighing the sailor’s claims in his mind, probably determining what to do next should such an event actually come to pass. Grimm’s ability to think and strategize was far beyond what Kalos had been able to master despite his many years of learning, but he easily recognized when his father’s mind was spinning through every possibility, scenario, and outcome imaginable.

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Grimm’s eyes snapped to him as he spoke, “Kalos, there are some things I need to tell you. About this trip. About why we’re here.” He held the roasted fish carefully nestled in a warm cornhusk between his fingers before taking another small bite.

Kalos didn’t even blink. Grimm’s tone cut through his thoughts, leaving his mind completely open to what was coming next.

“Is everything okay?”

Grimm responded quietly around a mouthful of tender fish, “Blefcynn was only the first part of our journey. I brought you here to gift you with a blade from Doogin’s forge, yes, but then you appeared with that chunk of Ostele in your hands... What’s important is that it will certainly prove to be a fine companion for you in time. That dwarf has crafted some of the most powerful weapons in all of Ceirlan, and presented to your family some of the greatest heirlooms they have ever known. Until today, he swore to never craft anything like them again. But bringing you to his smithy has opened your future to countless possibilities, both good and terrible.”

Something about the way Grimm said “your family” sounded strange. Kalos was confused by what he was hearing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a familiar darkness began to grow.

Someone’s voice randomly echoed over the crowd, “Grimm? That really you?” Kalos barely heard the stranger’s voice at all. He couldn’t even hear Grimm’s next few words very clearly as uncontrollable emotions started overpowering his senses.

“…dried dates, food and a few more things for the journey. It will be up to you to decide whether you want…”

Grimm’s voice sounded like distant intonations Kalos couldn’t quite grasp as he struggled to regain control of the darkness writhing in the back of his mind.

“Did he make your blade too, da?” Kalos managed to ask before the subtle voice from deep in the crowd suddenly grew much louder.

“Da!?” A sharp laugh completely disrupted their conversation. Kalos turned to see a man with strong arms, long, blonde hair, and mischievous, blue eyes standing beside them.

“Grimm, the Great Reaper of the Arch-Knights himself would surely never forsake his Oath of Celibacy! Why the Good King would flip in his grave if he heard such a thing had happened.” The stranger’s mocking voice and mischievous gaze grated against the boy’s soul and warped the entire conversation into a mass of confusion in Kalos’ mind. He suddenly felt like he had been chastised by the newcomer simply for addressing his father in the same manner he had his entire life.

Grimm’s expression darkened with a shade of threat Kalos had never witnessed from him. The man’s cheeks turned bright red as he sprang from his seat and latched onto the newcomer's shirt almost tightly enough to tear a chunk of cloth from it by his grip alone. Without warning he leaned forward, close enough that the heat from his breath slapped the stranger’s face with every syllable, “Damn your blighted soul, Avestus. How much have you been drinking tonight?” The blonde disruptor, whose name had just been ferociously announced in front of everyone shuddered like a searing, hot blade had been driven through his gut.

“I-I’m sorry Grimm, I... was only jesting…” His eyes flickered with fear and regret.

Grimm shoved him backwards ever-so-slightly before releasing his grip while his anger started to subside. His expression softened when he looked toward his son, but his face was full of conviction.

Kalos already knew the truth. The dull thoughts that were simply stirring in the back of his mind before the outburst warped into a torrent of jumbled memories and unstable emotions he never remembered receiving. He tightly crossed his arms over his stomach as his legs threatened to give out. He didn’t remember standing up at all, yet there he was, eye-to-eye with Grimm, backing away slowly at first, and then much quicker with every step.

Grimm leaned closer and lowered his voice while everyone around them quietly started eating again, trying to ignore the scene as nonchalantly as possible.

Avestus retreated back to the bar in a fit of defeat and self-pity over the scene he had caused.

“I know this is hard to hear, just let me explain. Many years ago when you were a small child, something happened. Your father..,” Grimm didn’t get to say another word.

Memories and emotions violently collided, overwhelming his senses all at once. Kalos heard what Grimm was trying to tell him. He fully comprehended what the stranger had said. He just couldn’t stay a moment longer to find out why. He couldn’t even breathe. He had to escape the hurricane of agitation filling his mind as fast as he could. No, he just had to... escape.

As he ran, Kalos realized he had always felt like there was something strange about the village, about his life there. There was always a small, insignificant shard of suspicion prickling his subconscious mind about his life. He was more than just some insignificant village boy from Ark. But what that meant was completely lost to him. All he felt was panic. The strangest parts of his life flashed before his eyes. Everything he’d grown up believing was a lie.

©2024, K. M. Plum, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED