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THE INNKEEPER

The ale was flat, and the food was tasteless. After a month dining on the fine fare the Capitol has on offer, this was an unwelcome change. Most everything about the Hamlet was an unwelcome change, with one crucial exception. Monte looked across the table at Dancia, who appeared to have no issue with the plate before her. Golden hair fell almost to her supple shoulders. Her blue eyes drew Monte's gaze into them, somehow away from the grace of her delicate features. She was the exception.

Monte had been in this hamlet now for two days. A few days after he and the cat returned to his normal apartment in the Capitol, a package arrived with his name on it. The doorman told him that a strange, hooded figure had delivered it by hand. It contained a substantial bag of coin and a note saying he'd earned at least one month's appropriations for his efforts.

There was no return address. Monte couldn't simply post his thank you letter to "The Old City", so he improvised. His friends at the Guard station accepted the note and said they would deliver it personally to the Town Hall upon their next official visit. Monte expected that would be rather soon given the pending trials. He counted on Orna to make sure his missive reached its intended recipient.

Monte finished his flat ale and asked for another. The cask had clearly been tapped weeks ago. Normally Innkeepers took pride in their beer, but this man clearly didn’t. Even if it hadn't been completely flat, it was still thin and bitter. It tasted like day-old tea.

If I drink up, he might tap a fresh one before we leave.

He picked at the unseasoned provisions on his plate. Monte could hear a little bell ringing away from under the table. While Dancia wasn't looking, he stabbed a piece of dry, bland chicken with his fork, and tossed it to the floor for the cat. She sniffed at it and even she decided it wasn't up to her standards.

You're missing decent food too, aren't you?

The cat looked up at him and he heard the sound of her bell. She had gotten a little puffy around the middle after a month feasting on fine table scraps. Both she and Monte had gotten used to fresh fish a few nights a week. Since they’d come here to the hamlet, she had been complaining via her special bell almost constantly. Monte thought the cat should be grateful. If Dancia could hear the bell, she probably would be hunting mice in the Capitol right now.

"What's the matter?" Dancia was staring at him. Her attention still made Monte melt every time she graced him with it.

"Just not as hungry as I thought, that's all." Monte replied. He tried to make it sound believable.

I'm starving, I just can't eat any more of this.

It was on his way back to his apartment from the Guard station that he ran into Dancia. He had more coin than he had ever been able to call his own and stopped in for a quick pint. Sitting alone at the bar looking more than a little distraught was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

By the end of the night, she had forgotten why she was so upset in the first place, and he was in love. They had spent much of their time since then together. Dancia had even become the favorite of the cat’s, though the feeling wasn’t mutual. Still, after one torrid month, Dancia had managed to convince him to come here to her hometown.

"Don't you miss the Capitol? I do. The food was so much better there, and it was so alive." Monte said idly. He twirled some noodles around his fork.

How did they manage to make these extra bland?

"Oh Monte, darling, I've already told you. We will go back soon I promise. It's not so bad here is it?" She replied. Dancia seemed to relish the noodles, like she'd never had such a delicacy.

And you turned up your nose at that delicious fish.

She told him they wouldn't be here forever. But just in the few days they'd been here she'd said and done things that made her difficult to believe. Last night they had dinner at the only other restaurant in the hamlet. The beer there was also below Monte's new standards.

Dancia introduced Monte to her parents. After nearly having his hand crushed by her father, her mother asked what he did. Monte trained at the Academy to be a Guard, but he wasn't officially a member. The rest of the dinner didn't go much better. In another life, this all might be going differently.

He could have shown up to meet her parents in his pristine red jacket and made a strong first impression. Her mother would see a provider, a Guard from a large town from a good family. Her father would see a protector, not someone getting himself mixed up with criminal organization.

The look on Dancia's face when he told her parents he was a tracker was the first time since they'd met, he had seen her do anything but smile. Monte wasn’t ready to be a disappointment. His feelings since that moment were tinged with darkness. It happened last night, though it felt as though it had been weeks.

There was nothing inherently wrong with being a tracker, really. It was true that trackers didn't have the best reputation. Their core task was doing the Guard's dirty work. When Monte couldn't make himself join the Guard, he had a lot of skills to practice and time on his hands, and not much coin.

In the years since he'd decided on his path, Monte hadn't been a particularly useful tracker. Often trackers were sent after people who were not yet guilty. Monte resisted those assignments on principal. The times he’d been asked to capture someone accused of something that hadn’t yet been proven, he found himself unmotivated to complete the task. After a few of these, he simply stopped taking the assignments.

Monte had been paid small sums by the Guard in the Capitol, his old Academy buddies mostly, for information on Company whereabouts. Though he suspected those payments were often out of pity.

I’m not even that good at being a bad guy.

Getting into the good graces of her parents would be a challenge. Monte came back out of his thoughts. He could sense he needed to change the subject.

"The ale here is great." It was all he could think of to say.

"Oh Monte, we both know it isn't." She replied. His heart wasn’t in the lie. Besides, she was right.

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"Look, we just need to get through a few more days. We're going to service with my parents in the morning. If you can stay on your best behavior, I'll make it worth your while." She said, with a look so devilish he would have done anything she asked him to. Even the notion of going to service with her mother and father no longer seemed daunting.

"I'm actually looking forward to service. It's been years since I went regularly." Monte said. He started eating again, his spirit buoyed by the implicit promise in Dancia's eyes.

"You don't have to lie to try to make me feel better." She said, looking a little offended now.

"I'm not!" He had to chuckle a little bit as he said it. Dancia was right to not believe him, but it was the truth.

"I used to go to service with my mother. We would pray to The Mother and then I got to milk cows and collect eggs. Back when I was little. I have fond memories of it. Sincerely!" Monte had to add the last part in response to Dancia's skeptical look.

Monte remembered service as a short devotional, followed by instructions to split into groups to pray to your patron god. He'd learned that in the past people believed the gods were ghosts or spirits. They apparently made their prayers to gain the ghosts’ favor and be watched over by the ghosts. The notion of kneeling in front of a statue or something seemed silly to Monte, though he imagined it was still done in some smaller towns.

For as long as he'd been alive, the prayer was an act of collective service. It was always directed toward the community. Monte thought of it as something to help the less fortunate.

"When I was little my mom was praying to The Healer. I would pretend to roll up bandages, but really, I just liked to watch her tend to the people who came. She worked in the house of the infirm every day, but I was only allowed to join her during service." She was looking at her plate, when her eyes went wide.

"I've been praying to the Healer my whole life I guess." Dancia said. Her eyes were distant, like the realization was a surprise to her.

Monte sensed the tension. In the weeks since they'd met, she revealed why she was in the tavern that day. Dancia had come to the Capitol to attend the Academy and study healing and medicine. She hadn't been accepted. Monte knew how competitive it was.

"Don't worry. It will happen." Monte said as he grabbed her hand. He needed to lighten the mood.

"I'll tell you a fun story. When I was old enough, I started to sneak off and say a prayer to The Innkeeper. This one old Tavern owner had me roll up a new cask every week. If I stayed around to chat with him, he would pour us both a fresh draught. First time I ever got drunk was at service." Monte tried to make it sound funnier than it was. Dancia didn't appear to have even heard him. She was still looking sullenly at her plate.

"Reckon your mother wasn't too pleased with the chap eh?" The server had returned and plopped down another glass mug. It looked like urine with only the barest film of foam on top. Monte managed to grin at the man, though he imagined it wasn't the warmest.

"Thanks." Monte said. He swore the man was turning slightly away from them to hide a black eye and worse marks on his neck. Why would this small-town innkeeper be beat up? Monte knew better than to ask.

"Hope you don' mind but I heard you talkin' about service. I want to invite you to a new church here in town. The preacher there is quite the firebrand, always tryin' to educate folks on how to improve their lives. It's at least more entertainin' than the stuffy old services." The server paused and looked back and forth between Monte and Dancia. Dancia had looked up at him, and she had a very polite look on her face. Monte thought she almost looked interested.

"Well thank you for the invite but--" Monte started to reply and send the man away.

"Improve their lives… how? Dancia asked, cutting him off.

"Well… he tells us we should start thinking more about ourselves. Says a lot of stuff that makes a ton 'o sense to me, about his god. Ever since I stopped getting rid of old beer, I just serve it anyway.” The innkeeper said.

At least that explains the ale.

“He says the ways of the Seven don't serve us no more. This preacher's god has got all kind 'o tips and tricks and tells us it's who we're supposed to be. Like it's divine will we make ourselves rich. I never thought much about getting rich myself, but it sure would be nice wouldn’t it?" The server finished explaining. Dancia was rapt. Monte had no idea why, clearly the man was a dullard.

"Has it saved you much coin, pouring stale old beer?" Monte asked, trying to make the question sound innocent and not sarcastic. Dancia gave a look that let him know he had failed.

"Well… not yet. But the preacher says it will soon." Monte watched the man touch the bruise on the side of his neck. How could a preacher be involved in this violence?

"Where is the church?" Dancia asked him.

"Why it's just across from the old church in the old house of the infirm." The server answered. Dancia closed her eyes slowly and nodded.

"You two look like a fine young couple and we would love to have you join us. Same time as old service." The server said. Then he left them alone.

"Huh." Dancia said. Monte hadn't enjoyed the interruption but was still grateful to the man for changing the subject. Dancia was looking at him eagerly, for what reason Monte couldn’t guess.

"What's up?" Monte probed.

"Well, my mother mentioned this new preacher. She said some of her friends had started going to it. It sounded like she wanted to check it out for herself. Now I do too." Dancia said.

You want to go to a different church?

Monte's father would host those who prayed to The Craftsman when Monte was young. But after a certain point his father's success was well known enough there was no need for service. His father gave back, he would organize prayers to The Craftsman to go other places in their town.

But by then, his father was in the habit of having an organized smithy at the end of the week. He always said he would pay someone, but it was always Monte himself doing the work alone. At first it was nice to get out of service. But, after a while Monte stopped going to altogether. It had been at least eight years since he'd attended service. He wanted to go back, but he had no interest in hearing some new preacher.

"I think I'll stick with the old service. I would like to pray to The Child again." Monte said.

By far the service Monte enjoyed the most was to The Child. That was the patron of those who needed protecting and was therefore adopted by the Guard. More than once he mucked and raked Guard stables. Sometimes he would help with the laundry.

Monte's town wasn't as large as the Capitol but there were nearly a dozen Guard at any time. They welcomed the service and would regale Monte with stories of their heroism. Serving the Guard as a younger man was what so drew him to going to the Academy.

But when the time came, Monte couldn't go through with the official ceremony. He was the only one stopping him from doing it. Monte could have been sworn in and assigned to some town far from anyone he knew. He didn't want that.

He had wanted to serve his town from a young age. Not as the town blacksmith like his father always insisted, but as a Guard. He knew he wasn't guilty of his father's death, but his conscious still was. How could he faithfully serve in his role when people thought him a killer? How could he call himself a Guard when he couldn't solve the murder of someone so close to him?

"I haven't been in years. Like I said I'm looking forward to it." Monte was trying his best to make it clear he wasn't interested in picking up a new religion while they were in this Hamlet.

"All this time I thought you were just waiting to find the right service in the Capitol." Dancia smiled at him.

"Actually, I stopped going because I wanted to stay in bed with you!" Monte retorted playfully. He had won Dancia back over.

He'd spent the past couple of years hanging around the Guard offices, gleaning what he could from his classmates and chasing the Company down. He'd nearly been killed twice, and spending time with Dancia had so far been a nice detour.

He realized it was made possibly only by the Clockmaker's largess and the coin wouldn’t last forever. And he realized that soon he would have to come clean to Dancia about what his source income really was. About his encounters with the Company and what he still needed to learn. About who he really was.

"Speaking of that… I was hoping you would let me and my mother pray to the Maiden, I have something I want to talk with her about." She said, being somewhat coy. The way she said it didn't alarm him, but normally praying to the Maiden meant only one thing.

"And my father would love if you joined him in praying to The Husband." She concluded. Monte hadn't known her long, but he wasn't dumb. She was trying to tell him something.

The Husband was certainly the most difficult. Monte remembered cutting firewood and baling hay during the hottest days of summer. In winter it meant clearing snow and ice. It was always outdoors. When you prayed to the husband it meant you were in for some hard labor. The firmness of her father's handshake suddenly made more sense.

I guess The Child will have to keep waiting.

"Of course. And I promise I'll keep my mouth shut about the whole tracker thing this time. I’m sure I can make your dad like me." Monte said.

Dancia rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Oh? Good luck."