A tavern [https://i.imgur.com/0NCAnSW.png]

THE TAVERN

Once Monte had run far enough away from the camp that he was sure nobody could stumble on him, he took a break. He needed somewhere to go through the ledger and try to make sense of what he’d just seen. The cat climbed a tree, leapt to the top of his pack, and promptly curled up to sleep.

“Good job tonight.” He said as he reached behind him to scratch between her ears. The sound of his voice seemed loud against the still night.

He had made it to the edge of the forest. With no moonlight to find the road by, Monte realized there was no chance he could make it to the Capitol tonight. In the distance he could just barely see the light of the village cresting over a hill. He pointed himself in its direction and started walking.

Quiet suited Monte for the time being. All this time he was looking for answers, believing any clue about his father's death would lead to some. He found the replica and the ledger but all they left him with were more questions.

Why would The Company make a fake of his father's sword? Did the real sword have some value to The Company? Is that why his father gave it to him? Questions led him into the second tent, and he left it with even more.

Only weeks before he died, Monte’s father passed the sword down to him. It was his father’s peak achievement, but to Monte it was just an heirloom, and a reminder. Monte had just returned from the Academy when it happened. For months the Guard in his town did their best to find the killer. Gossip over Monte’s quarrels with his father over his future had by that time made it through the entire town. Without anything or anyone to blame, rumors spread like a disease.

Monte thought about the words of the old man in the tent again. He wondered who the "lad" was, and he shuddered to think maybe it was him. How close to death had he been in that tent?

Another quarter of an hour passed before the lights of the village became more than just a haze on the horizon, and another passed before he could tell the buildings apart. When he got into the village, very few people appeared to still be awake. Through some windows he could make out the distinct flicker of a candle or a fireplace. It was quiet.

Monte assumed most provincial hamlets would be buttoned up for the night at this hour. Still, something felt off to him. With the Company set up mere miles away, how could this place be so peaceful?

Finally, Monte found the tavern where he had left his belongings. Unlike the quiet streets, the tavern common room was not a serene place. A hearth with a smoldering fire gave off just enough light to see by, and through the pipe smoke and haze emanating from the kitchen Monte could count roughly forty people.

The crowd here explained the relative quiet in the rest of the village. But what would bring so many people out of their homes so deep into the evening?

His entrance was ignored by the overwhelmed tavern staff. Monte spied an empty table in the back corner near the fire. He maneuvered towards the table through a throng of somewhat less poorly dressed, somewhat better smelling men than they had only just escaped. Picking up bits and pieces of conversation along the way, Monte discovered that the village was aware of the Company’s proximity. They were less than thrilled about it.

“Just on the outskirts I heard. I’ve half a mind to go out there myself.” A man spoke to a friend as Monte squeezed between the backs of two others.

“You haven’t got the guts.” Said a women, seated nearby.

Monte couldn’t help but look right at them. His stare was returned by the pair with no detectable warmth. Normally he didn’t worry about being a stranger in a tavern, but tensions here were running high.

He has almost reached his destination when a small shoving match was quelled with the arrival of a tray of drinks. The aggrieved parties gave up, distracted from whatever started it. Monte thought he heard something about a flute.

As he finally sat down in the back corner, a small band of musicians began to play. The troupe was composed of four lute players and a very bored looking drummer.

“Lucky me.” Monte thought to himself.

Through the scrim of bodies and pipe smoke, Monte could see that a handful of revelers were moved to dance. He suspected the quality of the ale deserved more credit than the quality of the playing, but the absence of trilling flutes meant the music combined with all the conversations into a pleasant din.

Two men were deep in conversation at the table next to his. They didn't so much as glance at him as he approached. By their clothing they appeared somewhat older and higher in the social order of this village than those in the rest of the crowd.

“At least I’ll get to think and eat in peace.” Monte thought.

Monte watched as a server wound through the crowd of revelers with impressive skill. As she walked a path seemed to appear before her. She left a tray of flagons overflowing with foam with a group who immediately looked friendlier. A man stopped her and she smiled at him and they spoke briefly, likely a request for more ale. Finally, she came to Monte’s table.

“We have an onion soup tonight.” She said, looking and sounding like she needed to be in twenty other places at this moment.

Monte was hoping for some time to calm his nerves and replay the last few hours in his head. Being hurried along by the server typically would frustrate him, but this village and this hour left with no other options.

"That sounds great. And a pint if you please." Monte watched her make a quick note in her head. Just as she was turning to leave she seemed to remember something important.

"Sorry to tell you this, but we're out of spoons tonight." She spoke, but Monte didn't think he heard her right.

“You’re out of… spoons?” Monte thought his reply contained a little too much disdain to be considered polite.

Not even in the sleepiest taverns in the most provincial villages, had he been expected to drink his soup. Still, there was no reason to be rude to the staff about it. It was late after all, and apparently the entire village was dining here. Monte was composing an apology when one of the men at the neighboring table spoke up, uninvited.

"With the place this full, they must all be dirty!" Monte and the server turned to look at the men.

Just moments earlier, the men next to him had been hunched over their table. Monte assumed they were unaware of the goings on in the rest of the tavern. Now they appeared to be finished with their business and ready to involve themselves in others’ business.

“Lucky me.” Monte thought again.

Closest to Monte was the man who spoke up, the broader of the two, with a plum of a nose and cheeks to match. His chair seemed to barely contain his frame. Even in the dim, Monte could make out his blonde beard and what remained of the hair on his head turning white around the edges. This man had the look of a someone who had some importance, though less than he imagined. Monte assumed him to be a friendly, good-natured, blowhard.

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At the seat opposite sat a man with fine, dark hair. His face was clean shaven, once finely chiseled, now smoothed by time. He wore a scowl as if nothing he heard or saw ever pleased him. A pipe with a thin wisp of gray smoke twirling out of it was locked between his lips. Unlike the first man, this one looked like someone who didn't have much trust or respect for any person he'd known for less than a decade. Every town Monte been in had men like this. Most didn't take too kindly to strangers.

"One bowl of the stuff and you'll understand why." The first man continued.

"That's very kind. I see you made do." The server spoke with a careful, practiced warmth.

Monte suspected she was poking fun, and that surely these men had been served with proper tableware. She continued before either man realized they were the butt of her joke.

"When I come back with his order I'll tidy up, I didn't expect to be this busy." She said, then turned back to Monte.

She clearly conveyed she was done with the men for now. Somehow, her hint was lost on them.

“Well thank you darlin'. I reckon with everything that's happened folks didn't quite know what to do at meal time." The first man needed the last word.

The server faced the two men again. Monte noticed she appeared unsure of how to reply.

“Another couple o’ pints miss if ya please.” The darker haired man across the table must have sensed her unwillingness to respond and issued his request with gruff dismissal.

She nodded a curt acknowledgement and turned back to Monte. Obviously, she had been around long enough to handle herself amidst a raucous night like tonight, but something the first man said shook her. She still looked distant.

“Two of those spoonless soups, make it three pints for me and my friends here, and a saucer of milk if those aren't all dirty too.” Monte said with a cool, practiced confidence.

The gentle ribbing over the cleanliness of the dishes brought her back into the present. She half squinted her eyes, which Monte took to mean she saw right through his flirtation. She said nothing more, gave a slight nod, and vanished back into the crowd.

The server's reaction confirmed something had in fact happened here, and recently. Monte assumed what he saw at the campsite had everything to do with it. Still, he didn’t need any more questions to answer. He wanted to stay out of any new problems the Company brought here.

Monte noticed the cat slept through all of that. As soon as he sat down at the table she went from his pack to the mantle and curled back up. He was jealous of her. The fire was warm, and the rush from the past few hours was wearing off. Monte felt he needed to keep his wits about him, but he realized he was exhausted.

Just then he remembered the ledger and brought it out from under his tunic, placing it on the table. Maybe going through it again would make more sense now without the pressure of escaping the camp alive. He took a long look at the names in the book, but they were still completely foreign to him. Were these names of members of the Company? Are they possibly targets of assassination? Are the people with crossed out names… dead?

Monte drifted off and snapped out of it after a moment. He had apparently been staring into the crowd of people in the tavern. When he looked from person to person he could see eyes dart away at the last instant. Still, he felt the unmistakable tingle of being watched.

"You lose anything this week stranger?" The question came once again from the neighboring table, and once again unprompted.

Monte fought the momentary urge to pretend the strangely specific inquiry wasn't directed at him. He wanted to be left alone, but the three of them were the only people within earshot. He knew better than to respond to rudeness with more rudeness. Simply ignoring the question might escalate things, and Monte wasn't in the mood for a fight. He turned to answer and found the bearded man had been staring at him.

"Not me sir. Have others lost things?" Monte spoke the truth to the men.

"Oh the stranger's playing dumb huh?" The clean-shaven man with dark hair chimed in, but he wasn't looking at Monte, his dark eyes were narrowed, transfixed on the table.

Monte followed his gaze to the ledger, in plain sight of the whole tavern. It was closed and unmarked, and barely visible in the low light of the room. Nonetheless Monte adjusted himself in his seat to block it from his neighbors' view.

"I haven't lost anything. I was simply curious." Monte reiterated, doing his best to prevent any further questions.

“Where are you from then?” The dark-haired man decided to pry into his business too.

He appeared skeptical of Monte and asked his question with some authority in his words, almost as though he was conducting an interrogation.

"I'm from the Capitol, and I plan on heading back in the morning, I've come to experience the market." Monte answered almost automatically.

Now Monte was fabricating things. He knew about the market but had no intention of visiting. He made a note to be careful around the darker haired man.

"Well I'll be…" The first man smiled and to Monte’s relief reclaimed control of the conversation.

"I happen to be in charge of our fine market, and I'm glad to welcome you. The name's Terran."

With those words Terran extended his hand and Monte shifted awkwardly to not further reveal the contents of his table.

He grabbed the hand and noticed it was suspiciously soft for a man his size. Monte had taken him for a laborer but was clearly mistaken, Terran likely held nothing heavier than a pen in years. He dropped the handshake and turned his head slightly toward the dark-haired man.

“My associate here’s called Mavlo. Don’t mind him he’s just a bit crusty.” Monte noticed Terran put a little emphasis on the word crusty to make sure Mavlo heard him.

Mavlo now had a look of dawning comprehension on his face. Monte had revealed so little about himself he couldn't guess what the other man knew.

"A strange lad from the city just happens to arrive in the middle of a string of robberies. He claims to be here for a market no more than one quarter as large as the one in the Capitol.”

Mavlo rested his case with a look of satisfaction.

“Glad to welcome you indeed." This time there was no hand offered.

It had not occurred to Monte yet that the looks he had received from the village could be tied to the robberies. Surely the folk here weren't always so averse to visitors. It did look a little suspicious, Monte admitted to himself, though if he were in fact involved, why show his face in a crowded tavern? Perhaps these people had no better suspects in mind.

"Now, now.” Terran said, with a little more gravity and pomp than was called for.

Monte wasn't sure if Terran was reacting to an insult over the size of his market, or his partner’s increasingly bad manners. Perhaps it was a combination of the two that moved him to shoot down the obvious accusation.

"Don't mind Mavlo. Friends from out of town are always welcome, we'll have no more speculation. Here come our drinks." Monte turned in his seat to face the tavern crowd again.

Their server was carrying a large wooden platter, how she managed the grace to weave with it through the crowd Monte didn't know.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, have a nice evening" Monte said to the men as a way of ending the conversation.

"Pleasure's ours! Please come find me in the market tomorrow, I'll be there bright and early." With that the Terran turned his back on Monte. Mavlo gave one last inquisitive look then gave it up and indulged in his foam-topped mug.

The onion soup came in a heavy wooden bowl the server placed gently onto the table. Next, she laid down a basket containing a loaf of fresh bread, broken into two halves. Steam rolled out from the open edges as though it had only just been pulled from the oven. Finally, she placed a saucer of cream on the mantle for the cat.

"Anyone give you any… trouble?" She took her time placing the third mug of beer in front of Monte and lowered her voice so only he could hear her.

Monte hadn't noticed any eyes darting away as he made a scan on the room, but he still felt he was being watched. Maybe it was just the business of this server to keep tabs on strangers, or maybe the men next to him had a history of stirring up trouble.

It occurred to Monte that speculation about his presence must have already spread through the room. He could still pack up and make for the Capitol tonight, and not risk getting caught up in whatever trouble might await him here. Then again, there might still be something to learn about the Company in this village.

"No trouble at all ma'am." He tried his best to let his eyes betray him, but he couldn’t be sure.

"Do you know if there are any rooms available for tonight?" He was trying his best to sound friendly and unbothered.

Unless he had misread the server, she would understand his situation and realize he needed to find a safe place to let things cool down. Trying to run now might incite a mob to keep him here. He'd seen folk this deep into their ale do more reckless things plenty of times.

"Well, you're talking to the bar owner, not the innkeeper, but I'm sure we can find something for you and your…" She turned to the cat on the mantle.

"…friend." She concluded, giving the cat a little scratch on the head.

"Just speak to the man out there once you're finished.” Monte saw her indicate the Innkeeper’s desk.

“There should be plenty of safe and quiet rooms." She said with a smile, putting a little lilt into the word 'safe'.

Monte’s read was correct, obviously she was as aware of the situation as he was. Better yet, he felt he had at least two allies. One of his neighbors, both of whom already back in deep discussion over their ales, and the server. With those two Monte felt much better about his predicament.

"Thank for very much." Monte meant it.

She must have picked up on his desire to eat in peace. As she left, Monte took one last look around the room and this time saw no eyes avert their gaze. It could have just been all in his head. These people had no real reason to suspect him. He put it out of his mind for the night.

The soup had no need for spoons as it turned out. Even if given one Monte still would have slurped the last dregs. What he couldn't drink was easily mopped up with the loaf. Having cleaned her saucer, the cat was now curled up on the hearth again.

Even with so many questions, he felt satisfied for the first time in memory. He finished his ale, collected his pack and sword from the innkeeper. There was an available room thankfully on the other side of the building from the tavern. No sooner had he settled into his bed had he drifted into a sound sleep.