"Fraind's Inn Junction?" Meera cocked her head to the side as she stared at the wrong spellings of the inn. She was also sure that it should've been Friends Junction Inn, unless it was a Junction of owners of friendly inns, or it could even be a chain of Fraind's Inns, and this was their Junction point. After much thought, she concluded that the spelling was wrong.

The building was the biggest in the collection of wooden huts that wasn't even a village as it was not on her map, but her map could be wrong or dated. It was like all the six houses in this village. Wooden log houses with windows and a stone chimney. It was quite a view or would have been quite a view if she hadn't already gotten so used to the countryside. It had been two days of following the road out of Ebonton, and she had seen enough countryside to last her a lifetime.

She drew a deep breath and moved for the inn. She pushed the wooden door open, which opened with a creak, and inside, the place was jam-packed. She always figured it would be like a scene in the movies where she would open the door and all conversation would stop, but here, people were shouting over each other to be heard.

Most of them were men, with few burly women among them. They sat on wooden tables and downed tankards of frothy beers. There was a lot of food on each table. A couple of serving girls were carrying orders to the tables and swinging between the rowdy customers to avoid overturning the contents of their trays. It was quite impressive.

I wonder if I can steal that skill…

To Meera's right was a band singing some tunes loudly while drunken men and women danced. On the other side of the inn came grunts and hollers of excitement. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see a brawl in a circle of people.

"What sort of place have I wandered into?"

"The best kind, missy," said a drunken fellow with whitish blond hair in a braid, as was his filthy beard.

Through the chaos of this party or whatever it was, she found the bar where the barkeep, an equally crazed-looking fellow, was taking orders from three people simultaneously. The serving girls were coming back to him to pick up orders and deposit coins.

She plunged into the crowd of smelly people and headed to the bar. After some close calls of having beer spilled on her only clothes, she finally reached the bar. There was a wall of people trying to get the barkeep's attention.

She deflated and made her way away from the wall. She found a quiet corner and was about to slunk down when the table beside her opened. She lunged for it and finally found a seat. It didn't take her long to wave down one of the server girls.

"What can I get you, dear?"

"Just a beer and whatever you have cooking."

"Sure thing."

She was about to move off when Meera grabbed her wrist. "Wait!" The server turned with a frown. "What's the party for?"

She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you." A drunken man hollered as he stumbled behind the waitress. "This here is a logging outpost, and these fools are loggers. A supposed monster has recently occupied the woods, stopping all the work."

"And they're enjoying themselves because they're out of work?"

The server snorted. "This is their first day off since they came here. Their master works them like a slave. They toil from dawn till dusk. So, the day the monster took their master, they're like this."

Meera gasped. "The man's dead?"

"The last they heard were his screams, and no one is willing to enter the woods after that, especially not to look for that crafty little shit. Don't worry about him, love. That man is not worth your worry."

Meera nodded her thanks, and away the server went to fulfill the orders while dodging drunken patrons. It wasn't long before she returned with her food and drink. Meera had just touched her beer to her lips when the door to the inn crashed open.

This time, everyone did fall silent. Even the brawlers stopped fighting to look. Meera had to stand on her tiptoes again to see three buff men in armor saunter in. Everyone shuffled back to make way for them.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

They all wore a dark-brownish uniform under their steel armor. Their breastplate was rounded, making it look like they all had considerable paunches. Even though she hated to use the word to describe someone as such, they were ugly. The first had a bushy brow, a massive bald patch, and scars on his forehead. The second had warts all over his nose, making it seem twice its size, and rotten, yellow teeth. The third was a bony man with an eye patch.

They walked in as if they owned the place. All the frainds had fallen silent. The only sound was the clink of their boots and armor.

Meera quickly used Identify on all three.

The bushy brow was [Soldier – Level ??]

The eye-patch was a [Warrior – Level 59]

And lastly, rotten teeth was a [Brawler – Level 54]

The fact that she could not see the soldier's level meant he was greater than sixty, but just how greater, she could not know. He could very well be level 100, and she would have no way of knowing. She hated how slowly the Identify skill leveled up compared to the others.

"Why did you stop the merrymaking, eh?" Barked the one in the lead with the bushy brows. "Don't think I don't know you lot are celebrating your master's demise."

There was no reply from the lumberjacks. Heads turned to the ground. No one wanted to look the soldiers in the eye.

"Their employer goes missing, and they're throwing a ball," said the one with rotten teeth.

"Doesn't seem right," said the last, sucking on his teeth and shaking his head. "Doesn't seem right at all."

Bushy Brows pushed his way to the barkeep and thrust some pieces of paper on the table. "Post these all over the settlement. So, we can find out who among you axed your master."

Meera figured these were the local bullies turned guardsmen and were trying to push their weight around. She wanted nothing to do with them, but Bushy Brows saw her, and his eyes widened.

He drew in a sharp breath. "And you are so drunk that you've got a Varshan in your mix, and you don't even know it."

For the thousandth time, I'm not Varshan! Meera wanted to scream, but something told her it was best to be meek.

There were some gasps and turning of heads her way. Most talked in hushed whispers as they misjudged her to be something she was not. She had figured that as she moved about in the world and reached bigger settlements, people would care less for Varshans, but considering their looks, she was wrong. If anything, the looks thrown her way were worse.

"I'm not a Varshan," Meera said. "And please, I don't want any trouble. I'm just a weary traveler stopping by for a meal."

"Don't think you can fool me," said Eye Patch. "I may have only one eye, but I still see good enough to recognize you lot."

"She's probably a spy sent to infiltrate our lands," Rotten Teeth said.

Bushy brows stepped toward her. His heavy boots caused a loud boom in the silent room. Meera quickly slipped a chakram in her hand and moved it behind her back to not be seen by the potential enemy.

"I'm not a spy or anything of the sort for any nation," Meera clarified.

"Oh," Bushy Brows' brow went up. "Then what are you?"

“I’m-I’m…”

"Yes…"

Meera decided on telling the truth or a version of the truth that these people would believe. "I'm not a spy nor anything remotely like that, but I am willing to buy a round for you and your men."

Both his brows went up this time. "Never saw a Varshan willing to part with their coin so easily. Fine, but a drink won't do. My men and I are parched from patrolling the woods, keeping you lot safe. What do you say, boys?"

"A bottle would set me nicely," said Rotten Teeth.

"Yes, a bottle."

"Sure. Barkeep, please give them three bottles of your finest ale," Meera said, hoping she had enough money to buy the bottles.

The barkeep hurriedly pulled out three bottles from behind the counter and ran to give them to the soldiers. They gave him a mean stare as they snatched the bottles from his hand. Rotten teeth pulled the cork with his teeth and took a hefty swig.

"Ahh!" He exclaimed. "This really is the good stuff."

Bushy brows examined his bottle and turned to Meera and laughed. "Thanks, Varshan, and don't go causing any trouble, or even a barrel of ale won't save you from us."

With that, the three laughed, pushed people out of the way for no reason, and left the inn. There was a collective sigh of relief. One or two looked out the window as they followed the soldiers' movements, hoping they wouldn't return.

"Okay, they've left the settlement!" One man announced to the cheers of everyone in the inn. Even the barkeep was hopping up and down, reminding her of one of the crazed Nightcrawler monkeys.

"Thank you, sweetheart," said one of the serving girls who had appeared next to her table.

"Yes, thank you, Varshan," said another bald, drunken lumberjack.

The rest of the room took up his cry of thanks until the band sang her praises. It all felt a little too much, but she was happy that it hadn't dissolved into fighting as she was not prepared to take on people that many levels higher than her.

Soon, the drunk people started doing what most drunken people did. They started talking about other things, and Meera refocused on her food. Now that she didn't have people coming to her to offer their thanks and clink their mugs with hers.

Just as she had finished, the barkeep came to her. "Enjoy the food?"

"Yes, it was delicious." It was actually quite bland. The most seasoning he had done was salt and pepper, which made Meera wonder if they did not have spices in this land.

"Good. Then I guess it's time you settle the bill."

"Okay. How much do I owe you?" Meera sounded calm, but on the inside, she dreaded the number and hoped she had enough silver coins to cover the expense.

The barkeep rubbed his chin and looked to be doing a mental calculation. "Since you ensured those assholes did not cause trouble, I'll throw in a discount." He winked. "You owe only a hundred and nine silvers."

Meera hung her head as that was most of her coins.