As we leave Gareth speaks out "That went well, much better than our reception at the academy." He casts his gaze at me as we start walking toward the Regretful goblin.
"It did, I’m glad my fears about them rejecting us were baseless." I reply.
"Of course, they were, we are mages. A cut above the average newcomer. Soon we will make our mark and rise up." He boasts with a wide smile and a wink.
"You make it sound so easy." We stand outside the Regretful Goblin. "For now, let us see about our accommodations." I say as we walk in.
The Regretful Goblin is a small two-storey stone building.
It has a single wooden window on the bottom floor currently open. It is one of many inns near the city gates but dinkier and located out of place from the usual traffic. Inside I see immediately all servers are slaves with male and female bodies and one trans individual.
Slaves, low costs and cheap entertainment, I expect. It has a respectable presentation with clean tankards and plates but the location and rougher folk this is a place for those of us who have fallen into hard times and for many have never known any different.
The group of two or three sit around small circle tables on raised stools. An arrangement no cheaper or uncomfortable can be found in a tavern anywhere.
We walk up to the bar I step behind my friend looking around the room and seeing strangers mostly labourers or old men their bodies too wrought and weary to do a day’s work.
Behind the bar is a thin, wrinkly Orc wearing a navy apron over a maroon shirt.
The innkeeper looks back their eyes grey and beady and too close together. They are balding with thinning hair at the base, sides and back of the head and a bulbous nose peeks through thick red bread with streaks of grey through it and by their temples.
"Well laddies, what can I do for my new favourites." He says with a thick accent common for Northern folk.
"Rooms for the night, friend and supper when it is served." Speaks Gareth.
"Is that all? Want a partner for the night only thrice the price for a warm body in the sheet for a snuggle during the sunrise." He says with laughing eyes his smile hidden under his beard.
"No, thanks but we appreciate the offer, of course." I say barely biting back my surprise at the blunt offer.
"Are you sure?" he replies with a chuckle. "We have all sort fatties, skinny ones, got an Elf, or a beast skin. She got Rabbit ears, eh. All shades of course we black humans from the southern continent, we got white of course, blue, green as well. One with no arm and another whose legs were cut off by her previous owner got her cheap." He says with a wink and a nudge to Gareth over the bar.
Gareth has gone white and looks like he is stuck between crying and cutting the Orc’s head off. "We don’t discriminate we offer an inclusive range of your pleasure." He says loudly offering the pitch not just for us but for the entire tavern.
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A woman at the back shouts back. "I’ll have the elf not gave him a good rutting for a week." Slapping her thick thighs and laughing uproariously her male companion joins in adding, "I’ll take the chubby, I like’em squish." He says speaking over the noise of the tavern winking at his female muscular companion
The mentioned slaves bow towards the two wearing smiles like a soldier wearing armour. "Thank you for your service." They intone wielding words like a sword.
Disciplined like the breaking and training of horses. Slaves and soldiers with no better options for shelter and food.
Most of us believe in our work too, no better way to ensure loyalty and efficacy service than to make us have faith that our experiences are how our relationships should be with those that break us into slaves and soldiers.
"Well, Rabbit ears sounds intriguing. When we are flush with the coin you will be the first I come to but I must insist on my friend’s request for two rooms and supper." I answer with a grin and a wink turning into a soft smile as I finish reply.
For all my moral outrage, my first lay was with a sex worker and I have spoken no lies.
"A shame for you and Bell the stamina of your kind is legendary." He says reaching up to slap my shoulder with a laugh.
I smile weakly.
"Two silvers upfront each." He says plainly.
Gareth hands over the coin brushing me off when I go to pay for my own.
We take a seat at the table and I have another brief look around. The inn is designed so that the second floor is exclusively reserved for rooms for guests.
However, the ground floor is where people eat and drink between and after a long day of work. The atmosphere of Regretful Goblin is rowdy and noisy with groups of people playing cards and day drinking.
Not to my liking but Gareth fits in well enough.
It is difficult to concentrate with all the raucous merrymaking of the other patrons, but Gareth pulls out the quest scroll and reads out its contents.
"Monster Killing… Hunt ten Rabbits!" he shouts loud enough that a few of the other patrons at nearby tables look over one chuckling and muttering. "Amateurs."
He looks at me and says "Seriously! Proof of completion rabbit unskinned. So, easy!"
"It is supposed to be. You heard Karen this is a recurring quest. Experienced adventurers do these all the time with their actual quests. This quest is nothing more than the salt with a meal." I say with a half-smile.
"I suppose so. The reward for completing it once is one silver. One bronze per rabbit I guess. Considering rent is two silvers a night for the two of us. Forty rabbits to just pay rent for two rooms! Karen is fucking screwing with us." He belts out his cheeks turning red in anger.
"Such is an adventurer’s life. Piss poor pay on the easy jobs, meagre increase on the dangerous jobs, heh, who knows maybe we will luck upon a Dragon’s Hoard and get rich." I say my voice light and tone sarcastic.
"Hur, Hur. So funny." He replies eyes rolling lightly punching my arm.
We head out towards the gatehouse to see about tackling the quest.
Stopping by a provisions store we buy two large bags to bring with us each. The gatehouse is a few streets away and a short walk later we reach the gatehouse, two long queues slowly crawl forward to enter or exit the city.
For each person or group that wishes to leave must pass through the guards in practice this is more a matter of bureaucracy than of security.
All manners of folk are piling up for merchants in their caravans, to farmers with empty wagons trying to get back home.
We continue talking as we wait for our turn and when it comes, we show our identification to the city guards.
The noon bell rings from the diminutive tower which stands lonely in the centre of the maze of alleys, the sound of its bell echoing throughout the city.