I got ninety-nine problems, but magic ain’t one - Archmage Classus

This, Garvin kept thinking as he strolled between the stone buildings, this is something! He imagined the commotion caused if Brand would show up here now. The streets would be completely blocked.

As he stared at the buildings with such interest, he bumped into a woman.

‘Excuse me,’ Garvin said. The woman ignored him so Garvin continued down the road. In the big city, nobody cared.

Of a sudden, he realised how famished he actually was. Directed by his stomach, he searched for the first sign of a tavern. There was a shoe shop, a tailor, a general good store, ah there! Garvin lay his eyes on what was the Hovering Horse. From the outside, it looked like a respectable place. He was just trying to convince himself, with the hunger he felt, he would have entered pretty much any place.

The sounds were much softer once inside, damped by the wooden interior. There was a dimmed light, that made him blink a few times before his vision became clear. He noticed more than half the chairs were taken already.

Garvin took place at a round table with four chairs and smiled. This could be something, he thought. He could imagine himself living here, in the big city. He would have something to write about, surely. More so, he could have people reading his work! Maybe there was a hero that let him jot down some stories. That idea boosted his morale considerably. And it was further improved when the taverner came to ask him what he wanted. His stomach growled.

‘Maybe the daily soup and meal, and some beer.’ Garvin said. He licked his lips just in anticipation. This place would have beer, he thought. In his small village, mead was about the best thing you could find. But here, there must be a dozen kinds of drinks. Maybe he could work at a brewery, Garvin wondered whilst waiting for his meal. It didn’t take long.

The tavern-keeper served a hot plate of potatoes and white bread and some butter. Pieces of pork with an egg on top in a smaller plate and a bowl of soup. Garvin thanked him and devoured his meal like a starving wolf. There was nothing for him to do when he finished his meal. So he grabbed his book and dripped a feather in the small pot of ink.

Greed, a bustling city filled with sounds, smells and opportunities.

A bell rang as a group barged into the tavern. For a moment, they peered around, then took the tables next to him.

‘Say, are these seats taken?’ a man asked him.

‘Not at all,’ Garvin said as he grabbed his book and closed it. He hoped the words had dried already. Two figures sat with him. A woman with an emerald coloured cloak and a man with a short, white beard.

‘Where do you guys come from?’ Garvin asked them.

‘We come from Winterset. We arrived here just this morning,’ they said. Garvin thought of his map. Winterset was about as far north as one could go.

They shared some pleasantries, but Garvin listened more than he talked. He wasn’t ready to share his misfortunes just yet.

After the second round of beer, another man walked in, announced by the bell on top of the door.

It was a large man with an impressive belly wrapped in silk clothes. He had blue eyes, a large nose and a receding hairline. His presence just screamed importance. And he seemed to be treated like it. A man came to remove his cloak.

‘There you are, Maegis!’ the two strangers at Garvin’s table said.

The man marched, proudly pointing his belly forwards and took the empty chair next to Garvin. 'A big belly, the universal sign of a man who made it in his life.' he said jokingly. The group remained silent as he grabbed a seat.

‘There,’ he said, making sitting down sound like a chore. The whole table shook as he tried to press his belly under the table. ‘How are you?’

It seemed it was a merry meeting of friends. They talked about the road, business and numbers. As well as who got married, stabbed or shagged. Garvin zoned out but strangely felt too comfortable to leave. Being with strangers usually put him at unease, but this felt different. He was new and free. He zoned out with these thoughts.

‘How about you, young man?’ Maegis asked of a sudden.

‘I come from Woodholm, sir.’ Garvin said at once awakened. ‘I arrived just this morning.’

‘Ah, finally old enough to help your parents with their shop?’ he asked.

‘Well, actually, I came here on my own.’

‘Totally alone?’ Maegis gasped. His little eyes were all round, his cheeks red. Though more of the wine he ordered, than the apparent surprise.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

‘My parents are merchants, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. They are always travelling.’ Garvin said.

The woman with the emerald cloak glanced at the bearded man next to her, her lips squeezed tight.

‘I’m sure they are fine since they send me letters.. sometimes,’ Garvin added.

‘And what do you plan on doing here, lad?’ Maegis asked him.

‘I don’t know yet, I think to find some work so I can stay here. Then..’

‘He writes,’ the woman in the cloak said. ‘We saw an open book when we barged in.’

‘Really? May we see it, please?’ Maegis asked. The other ones nodded fiercely in unison.

Garvin looked away. ‘I didn’t really write anything yet. I mean, its nothing special.’

‘Come now lad, don’t be scared.’ The man with the white beard said.

‘Olfgar, if he doesn’t want to share his musings, that's okay.’ The woman calling it his musings made him even more hesitant to show his work. Eventually, after long insisting, he grabbed his book and placed it on the table.

The three looked at it for a moment, then Maegis grabbed it in his thick hands. Garvin noticed but now a large golden ring on his index finger.

‘Hm-hm. Interesting.’

‘What is?’ Garvin asked.

‘The story I see here. Did this really happen?’ Maegis handed the book over to the others who read with eager eyes.

‘You mean of the Dragonslayer?’ Garvin asked. He almost expected everyone in the tavern to become silent. This didn’t happen, however.

‘Yeah, him, did he really met Brand in your village?’

Garvin nodded.

‘Brand, now that is a man who can open my gates anytime.’ The woman said.

‘Helga, calm yourself!’

Maegis ignored the two, too lost in his thoughts. ‘What are the odds. Of having those two in one insignificant place as Woodholm. No offence, of course.’

‘None is taken,’ Garvin said. He had uttered the same words for a long time.

‘Do you realise he is a wanted man here in Greed?’ The woman asked from behind the book.

‘Really, why, what happened?’ Garvin wanted to know.

‘You don’t know? I mean, we live on the other side of the land and we know.’

Garvin felt more and more stupid. He just placed his hand in front of his mouth and shrugged.

‘Everyone knows he slept with the wife of the old lord of Greed. He was caught by Lord Merrysteel himself! Then, while fleeing the city he managed to destroy the brewery, the tannery, and set fire to the granary!’

The men chuckled. ‘Good thing Greed didn’t have an art gallery.’ Maegis added. And they started laughing. Maegis laugh made the place tremble. He held his belly like he was singing an opera.

‘Laugh all you want, his shenanigans almost meant a famine for this city. He is a wanted man here, to be killed on sight.’ Olfgar said with his arms crossed.

‘But to return to your book. It is quite interesting. I’m sure you could sell it. If it is finished. Your writing style is quite fresh.’ Maegis said sincerely.

‘Really? Where?’

‘There is a community of actors here. They often use stories written about heroes. You could apply this story, maybe it will be in a play this summer.

This idea interested Garvin a lot. And he would mull it over in his head the rest of the morning. At least, until everyone left the table to go about their own ways.

As everyone got up with the necessarily scraping of chair-legs, the tavern-keeper came over to collect his pay. Soon, most of them disappeared in the maze that was Greed.

Garvin reached for his belt... Yet couldn’t find anything. His pouch was no longer there. ‘Wait!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t understand!’ He searched underneath the table and in his bag. Nothing.

‘Is there a problem, young man?’ The taverner asked, his mouth revealing a little twitch.

‘I don’t understand. It should be right here!’ Garvin cried out. This time, the tavern did become silent and all eyes turned to him.

‘If you don’t pay, I will have to call the guards.’

‘No please, I can... Work! Please! I don’t understand! I had a pouch right here!’ Garvin pointed at his crotch.

‘Now this is unheard of!’ The tavern-keeper yelled as he stepped forwards and with surprising strength grappled Garvin.

Garvin almost instantly collapsed under the man’s weight and stretched his arms, trying to hold on to the table.

‘Stop!’ a voice roared.

The taverner pushed Garvin away and rubbed his hands.

Garvin hit something big and soft, so dazed he almost fell. But two strong hands held his shoulder.

Two clear blue eyes stared into his.

‘Did you have the money, lad? Speak the truth.’

‘I swear I did!’ Garvin said. ‘I must have gotten robbed!’

Maegis turned to the taverner. ‘He speaks the truth.’

‘Truth or lie, he still needs to pay.’

‘Sir,’ Garvin pleaded. ‘I will do everything to repay you. Please.’

‘I suppose you could do some chores.’ Maegis said.

‘Hah, him? I don’t want to see him ever again!’ The tavern-master yelled. Garvin felt something wet hitting his cheeks.

‘I will pay for him, Marcus. Maegis said. ‘Don’t worry. Every last penny. You,’ he said to Garvin. ‘Wait outside please.’

Garvin quickly grabbed his sack and went outside. He dared not look back, the gaze of the taverner was too dark.

Slowly he caught his breath back. As he watched everyone pass the street with a suspicious eye. There were thieves here, too, he realised.

Soon Maegis exited the tavern, he looked sincerely at Garvin.

‘I, I’m sorry,’ he mumbled to the man whilst staring at the pavement.

‘Follow me, lad.’ Aegis said as he traversed the road.

Garvin had to run to keep up with his large strides.

‘I am sorry,’ he said again. He wondered where the large man took him. Maybe he should run away. But where to go then, without any money he was lost.

A few streets further, Maegis grabbed a key from a pocket and opened a large, decorated door. Larger than any door he had seen before.

‘I am afraid you got pickpocket, lad,’ Maegis sighed. ‘Luckily for you, I heard the taverner yell and wondered what the fuss was about.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Garvin said again.

‘It is not your fault. And perhaps you really can work for me. I require someone who can read and write. You seem like a smart young man.’

‘Thank you,’ Garvin uttered.

‘I will show you around. Please follow me.’ What Garvin saw was a mansion of great splendour. White walls and black floors, chandeliers and bookcases. Garvin loved bookcases.