Max awoke back in Aletheia to a kind-faced serving girl, in the middle of dabbing his face and forehead with a damp cloth. She squealed when his eyes popped open, mumbled a red-cheeked apology, and hastily left the room.
Sitting at the nearby table, Entrails coughed conspicuously. Max made a point to look at him. “Really?” he said.
Entrails held up his hands in innocence. “What? She seemed nice and it felt rude to refuse good hospitality. Besides, you were sweating like crazy… one side effect of dissonance. Feeling better?”
“Better than I remember.” It was true. Before he’d logged out, Max could hardly open his eyes without a wave of dizziness overcoming him, but now he felt alert, present.
“Good, because we probably don’t have much time. Everyone in this town likely serves Lady Crane, that serving girl included. There are some things we need to straighten out before we're summoned. If we don’t play our hand right, we might never leave here. Understand?”
Max nodded.
“Now listen…” Entrails proceeded to fill Max in on their cover story, the one they’d use to avoid being held prisoner in Crownbeak’s cells, or worse. The best lies, he explained, always had some element of truth to them. Entrails would be himself—an adventurer who’d come to Brix with a party to dungeon dive in the honeycombed tunnels beneath the mines. However, when their entire party except for Entrails perished, he’d bought Max as a mule: a low-level player who’s sole purpose was to carry items in their inventory. Apparently it was a fairly common practice, since low-levels were easily available and more useful than actual mules. Usually.
Max agreed that it was a good cover, which deftly skirted the awkward question of where Max had come from. If Lady Crane discovered he was still wanted in Brix for attempted thievery, Entrails felt sure that she’d drag him back to Skole without a second thought. It was imperative that the noble buy their story, no matter what.
“You should also know,” Entrails continued, “that to some, Lady Crane is also known as the ‘Shrike.’ From what I’ve heard, she can be… cunning. Enjoys testing the limits of others, like sport.”
“Good to know. Does she also have a habit of impaling her victims on sharp objects?”
“Not that I know of… but I wouldn’t call her the ‘Shrike’ to her face, just to be sure. My point is that Lady Crane is sure to test us. I’m not sure how, exactly, but she will. Just follow my lead.”
“Got it.”
Entrails thought for a moment. “One more thing. Lady Crane is infamous for her familiars. I’ve never seen one, but I understand they are raptors.”
“Raptors?” Max asked. He wasn’t sure what that meant.
“They’re—” Entrails began, but just then the door swung open without warning, cutting him off mid-sentence. A guard waltzed in, with more standing outside on the walkway. “You’ll see.”
“Let’s go,” said the guard, his blue tunic displaying a golden crane, the sigil of Crownbeak. “Lady Crane is waiting.”
Max and Entrails followed the guards out of the room and onto the covered wooden walkway that wrapped its way around the outside of the inn. It was still early morning, the sun just beginning its ascent up its light blue, wispy clouded canvas. Below the inn was a small town square, punctured with a well in the very center. A number of half-stone, half-waddle and daub buildings surrounded the square, with hanging signs depicting the services offered inside.
Townsfolk scurried about in their morning duties, pulling up water from the well, dusting off storefronts, heating the forge. Some paused to watch as the guards escorted Max and Entrails down the wooden steps of the inn and towards the castle, whose stone parapets could be seen towering over the small settlement.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Max could tell Crownbeak was about the same size as Brix, but instead of a wooden palisade it was surrounded with strong stone walls. They were built around a rectangular stone keep on the north end. An open portcullis led to the castle itself, which was separated from the town. The packed dirt road was still dark with morning dew, and as the group continued towards the main keep nobody said a word.
Inside the castle, the air smelled stale—old rugs and damp stones. They followed the guards through the entryway and then into the Great Hall. Max noted that it wasn’t the largest hall, a little larger than the taproom in Rilliard’s Inn & Tavern, but it was certainly more regal. Crownbeak’s standards hung down the walls, adding streaks of color to the gray stone walls. The ceiling was high, latticed with strong timber support beams. Along these beams sat a variety of birds, twittering and preening their feathers. Most were small, sparrows and pigeons, but larger birds could be seen here and there—a few cranes, hawks, and ravens. Every now and then, a bird would fly across the room to the other side. Max examined the floor, but was perplexed at how clean it seemed to be…
“Birds don’t shit in Starsword,” whispered Entrails, noticing. “An improvement over real life, if you ask me.”
On the floor, a long blue rug stretched to the high table at the front of the room, where sat a variety of figures. To the left of the table stood a giant birdlike creature, which Max quickly deduced as the raptor Entrails mentioned. Even from this distance, it looked terrifying. The bright colors of its plumage were beautiful, but Max could tell from the way it stood and moved that it was a killing machine. The beast currently seemed to be hyper-focused on a ragged man a few paces away, clearly a prisoner.
As Max and Entrails approached the high table, the figure sitting at the center seat of the table rose. Max assumed it to be Lady Crane, based on the deference and attention given to her by everyone else in the room. The guards stood to attention, while the pudgy man also seated at the table looked to her expectantly. Behind her stood a tall stoic woman, garbed in full plate armor bearing Crownbeak’s insignia. She was the only one who didn’t shift or move an inch, merely staring ahead impassively, like a statue.
“Welcome, honored guests!” began Lady Crane. At this, Entrails snorted. “Hope you slept well… I have a special treat for you this morning.” The noble pointed towards the prisoner, who was holding the spear, but doing a poor job of it due to his trembling hands. “This man used to be the captain of my guard. However, he was found selling information to agents of the Northern Alliance. My guard's patrol routes, specifically.”
At this, Entrails spoke up. “So that’s why the roads leading through your lands are crawling with bandits,” he said, his bold voice filling the Great Hall. “More than usual, I mean.”
“Indeed… I was losing too many patrols, so I pulled them back to the castle.” Lady Crane smirked. She seemed to be enjoying this banter. “Do forgive me if that has caused you inconveniences in your travel plans.”
“It was a small inconvenience. Relatively-speaking.”
Max’s eyes widened, but he tried not to glance over at Entrails. By the undisguised ironic tone in his voice, the warrior was clearly referring to being kept under house-arrest for the past day. Was the man truly fearless? Or just that glib?
The smirk stayed on Lady Crane’s face, but she ignored him this time. “Back to the matter at hand… I’ve told Hessian here that if he can drive off my familiar, he'll have earned his freedom. Consider it a trial by combat!” At these words, the guards moved back, leaving the spear-wielding prisoner alone against the raptor. “Ready, Hessian?” asked Lady Crane.
Hessian said nothing, doing his best to keep the pointy end of the spear towards Lady Crane’s feathered executioner.
“Very well,” she said. The noble raised her hand in the air. Silence hung in the Great Hall, the seconds lengthening, until Lady Crane snapped her fingers. The raptor, well-trained and knowing the significance of the sound, darted forward with a speed that betrayed its large size. It deftly avoided the spear’s tip, grasped the heft in its maw and ripped the weapon away with a twist of its muscled neck. Even if the man’s grip was welded to that spear, the beast’s strength likely would’ve ripped his arms off. He stood no chance.
The former captain yelped and succumbed to his base nature, attempting to flee backwards and through the guards behind him. The stone-faced men grabbed him easily, throwing him back—where the raptor was waiting. It leaped forward, legs outstretched, sinking its wicked talons into the man’s chest and pressing him into the floor, screaming.
Then, the raptor fed, and Hessian went limp.
It all happened so fast that Max barely had time to register. Now, he felt sick. He looked away.
“Guess he was guilty,” said Lady Crane, with a little too much nonchalance. “Glad to have that matter settled.” The noble sat back in her seat, her chainmail murmuring with her movements. After she had gotten comfortable, she looked to Max and Entrails, lowering her eyes dangerously.
“Now then, onto the next order of business..."