The inn was near empty. Sat upon a long, dark oak bench and table, Somerled sat reading through a old book he found in the last town he was in. It was multiple tales of the battle of the desert finger where the Jarman’s met their demise and humans officially claimed the continent of Osheara.
He sat, waiting for the beef stew that the bar maiden had suggested he have, wearing his full Brotherhood of Blood armour.
The armour was a thin steel that covered most of his body, thin enough to move quickly and thick enough to protect the body. It was stained in a dark red with a black, thick cotton material underneath. Covering his face was the helmet he was given when he completed his apprenticeship and became a knight of the brotherhood. It covered his entire head and fell just below his chin, there was a singular long slit across the eyes and the helmet was stained with the similar dark red, except for the muggy yellow that went around the eye slits.
“Where is he?!” A man’s voice called out as the door slammed open, bringing the cold from the blizzard into the inn.
Turning his head, Somerled saw it was a peasant man that was panting at the open door, dressed in brown and battered clothes, his medium black hair was a mess.
“Close the door you fool!” The barmaid shouted from across the room, the cold breeze blowing out a handful of the candles that kept the room lit.
“There you are!” The man shouted whilst staring at Somerled.
Ugh, what does this man want with me? Somerled thought.
As the man charged across the inn towards Somerled he shouted.
“You’re a Knight of the Brotherhood of Blood?!”
Somerled remained on his seat, looking at the man, his deep and husky voice replied back simply.
“Yes.”
“I need your help!” The man shouted now just a foot away from the knight.
“I’m not working tonight.” Somerled replied and turned his back to the peasant, watching as the bar maiden placed a wooden bowl of beef stew in front of him.
“You are from the Brotherhood of Blood!” The peasant shouted, “You are honour bound to help fight against evil!”
Refusing to look at the man, Somerled grunted.
“And what evil is it you require help with?”
“Jarl Kitchner. He is raiding our villages and raping our women!” The peasant shouted.
“That is politics, I do not interfere with politics.” Somerled firmly replied, grabbing onto his bowl of stew and rising from his seat.
“You have to help us!” The peasant shouted once more and grabbed onto the knight's left arm, forcing a few drops of his stew to fall onto the table.
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“Petir! Leave him be!” The bar maiden ordered walking over.
The man removed his hand from Somerled’s armour and took a step back, stuttering he weakly protested.
“Kitchner is a tyrant, if he carries on, we won’t survive the winter.”
“It is King Falkner’s responsibility to deal with Jarls, not mine.” The knight replied walking away from the peasant.
“That’s it?! You are just going to leave us to suffer like this?!” He shouted.
“I am going to enjoy my meal away from screaming people.” Somerled simply replied stepping through the door into the room he has paid for the night.
As he entered the room, dimly light by a single candle, there was a single wooden chair and a flimsy bed in the corner. Not the greatest of places Somerled has stayed in, but not the worst.
Sitting down on the creaking chair, Somerled removed his helmet and drank the stew straight from the bowl. Enjoying having a warm meal after travelling through the cold blizzard.
The next morning.
As daylight gleamed through the cracks of the wooden wall, Somerled arose with the light. Putting back on his armour and helmet, he sheathed his 97cm Flyssa into his belt and attached the sheathed silver longsword onto his back and left the room.
The inn was derived of life, as he approached the exit the bar maid shouted out from behind a counter.
“Thank you for staying.”
Turning and looking at the woman, stood whipping a wooden plate with a dirty rag, her long brown hair frizzy and dirty. Somerled pulled out a gold coin and tossed it to her direction, landing perfectly in front of her on the counter.
“Thank you.” She said with a smile.
Somerled grunted and opened the creaking door into the day light.
Even in the day, the sun was struggling to get through the blizzard and snow filled the ground.
He walked through the derelict town, seeing a handful of people on the streets working or clearing the snow from the icy ground, most of which would look and stare at the knight. He heard one child girl say.
“Who is that mother?”
“Be quiet girl!” The mother scolded and they both rushed inside of a wooden house.
Reaching the stables for the town, the fat stable owner was sat inside, counting coins.
“How much do I owe you?” Somerled asked starting the fat man who jumped out of his seat.
“How in the gods do you sneak up on me in that armour?!” He shouted in a panicked state.
“How much?” Somerled repeated.
“Just the one night? Five silver coins.”
“Five? For one night?” Somerled questioned in a sombre tone, “I thought that thieves live in the forests?”
The fat stable owner laughed and rubbed his pot belly and replied.
“These are trying times. A man must earn a living.”
You seem to be doing alright you fat bastard. Somerled thought to himself.
“Fine.” He grunted throwing down five silver pieces onto the table.
“Good man, last stable on the left.” The man said sitting back down and pushing the silver coins into his pile.
The floor in here was covered in hay, but at least it was dry compared to outside. Reaching the last stable, Somerled saw his horse lay on the ground, her white coat glistening and her mane brushed.
Maybe he is not as bad as I thought. Somerled thought, realising that the stable owner has done some work to clean his horse.
“Fleor.” Somerled said, his mare jumping up from the ground and walking towards him, pushing her head at the knight, Somerled stroked her head and ran his fingers through her mane.
Stepping into the stable, the rest of his weaponry were on the ground in the corner and after thirty minutes of reattaching his black saddle, Somerled mounted the horse and left the stable.
As the mare took its first steps into the blizzard, Somerled ran his hand down the back of her head and whispered.
“Don’t worry girl, we will get somewhere warm soon.”
Turning his head and seeing the stable owner standing at the open door, Somerled shouted.
“How far is the next town south?”
“Worsham, it’s less than a day’s travel.” He shouted back.
Not replying, Somerled guided his horse south and through the dirt streets of this town he has not learnt the name of and into the open road of the countryside.