Kveldulf nodded and made his way over to the tavern. Dismounting his horse, he hitched it to a post before moving inside. It was empty, save for the innkeeper at the counter and a group of four huddled by a table near a back corner. Walking towards the bar, Kveldulf took note of the group at the table.
The first one Kveldulf noticed was a man with sand colored skin, possibly mid-twenties and towering over the other three even when sitting. His black hair was pulled back into a straight ponytail with facial hair encircling his mouth with a patch underneath the bottom lip, all neatly trimmed. His right arm rested over his chair adding to his relaxed demeanor, sporting a tranquil smile on his face.
The man was dressed in a cuirass made of short horizontal lames of steel, the top level overlapping the lower to cover his well-built frame. The armor was black as night and marked with scratches and other marks of war beyond counting. His shoulders covered in laminar style pauldrons, with plates covering much of his arms before ducking under his steeled gauntlets. Leaning against the serving counter he lifted two fingers up to catch the person’s attention. Resting on his left shoulder was a long-curved blade. An odachi? Not from around these parts then, Kveldulf thought, interesting.
Next to him was an elven woman. She had curly shoulder length dark red hair, displaying her pointed ears, amber skin with freckles around her face and bright violet eyes surrounded by a red hue where it would normally be white. She carried a long bow with her, a quiver full of arrows leaning against her chair with a long knife resting on her hip. As the others talked amongst themselves, she was the only one with her eyes on Kveldulf. Not in a sense that conveyed a threat to him, simply aware of his arrival.
She her petite figure was dressed in a brown gambeson, wearing a glove on her right hand with her ring and pinky fingers exposed, and her other hand wearing a full glove. She had a fabric resting around her neck, though the dim light made it hard for Kveldulf to see what exactly it was. Possibly to cover her face, he thought to himself. Wonder if she’s done something to win a guard’s attention?
Next to the elf was another woman, blonde hair braided and draping over her left shoulder. She wasn’t wearing as much armor on her lean athletic figure as the other two, though she did have a leather vest resting on the back of her chair. She wore a light tanned blouse which overlapped with long leather patches covering the lengths of her arms, breaking at her elbows and shoulders.
Next to her were two sabers, thin, curved and with a good reach to them. They reminded him of his mother’s blades. Hmm, wonder if she’s a sword singer, proper. Mother would’ve loved to see this. Kveldulf smiling at the thought.
Kveldulf couldn’t see the fourth member of the group clearly as he made his way over to the counter. Arriving to the bar, the innkeeper saw him, wiping his hands on their apron. “Afternoon, can’t say I’ve seen you round these parts.”
Kveldulf shook his head. “Just came in from the port of Tonaslyon recently.”
“Oh, been able to shake off those sea legs?”
“Only until I need them again,” said Kveldulf, pointing to a small barrel of mead behind the server. “A flagon of mead with some mutton and bread, please.”
“Fair enough,” said the server, filling a flagon with mead, handing it to Kveldulf before turning to grabbing to plate for some food. “I can assume you’re a free-lancer, then?”
Kel nodded. “I am. My other companions are conversing with your reeve now to see about some work.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard enough about the brigands to wore your ear off.”
“Enough to catch our attention. But not much else,” Kveldulf said, taking a sip from his flagon.
“Well,” said the server, leaning in closely. “Be mindful of that lot over there,” he said, gesturing his head at a table behind Kel.
“That group back there?” Kel asked softly.
“Aye,” said the server. “They came in here a few days ago. Along with this man who left with a girl from around here.”
“A girl?” Kveldulf asked.
“Aye. And on top of that, there’s been a series of thefts from around here, too. Livestock mostly. A few others found personal trinkets missing.”
“What do you mean, trinkets?”
“Oh, you know, jewels, silver pieces, heirlooms families have had for a generations.”
Kveldulf jutted his jaw to the side as he cocked an eyebrow up. “Interesting,” he said slowly. “And you think they might be responsible?”
“Can’t see why not. Nothing like that happened until they arrived. They even have a Woodland Elf in their company. Nasty thieves all of them.”
“Don’t let our Felidan friend hear you say that,” said Jeanne, taking a seat next to Kveldulf, “That was a similar sentiment said about his people for centuries, and one not taken kindly to by his kin regardless of context.”
“Well,” said the server, now leaning back from Jeanne’s comments. “I that’s what I heard anyways.”
“Of course,” said Jeanne, putting on a factitious smile, placing a few coppers on the counter and pointing to Kel’s flagon. “What he’s having.”
“So …,” Kveldulf said to Jeanne, “What happened?”
“Oh, they needed to discuss business alone.”
Kveldulf rolled his eyes backs as he shook his head. “Oh gods, not that crap again.”
“You know how officials are. If they can make themselves feel bigger than they are, they’ll do it.”
“Well at least that means we’ll get some work.” The server placed some mead and food in front of Jeanne before grabbing the coppers.
“Seems so,” said Jeanee, “What did you manage to get?”
“Did you see the group in the corner when you came in?”
“Of course,” she said, taking a sip of mead.
“They’re allegedly with the man that the farm girl told us about, and might be responsible for potential thefts around the area.”
She stopped her mid-sip and looked over to the group. Kveldulf noticed they had ceased their conversation and were looking over at Kel and Jeanne. Jeanne turned back, returning to her mead.
Taking a bite of food, she looked to Kveldulf. “There’s two I would caution against a full on fight. One looks like an archer …”
“The elf?” Kveldulf asked, shoving some of his own food into his mouth.
“The elf. The other two I’m not so sure. One is definitely an acade—”
“Excuse me?” they heard someone ask.
Kveldulf and Jeanne turned to find the academic standing next to them. Strands of his blonde hair draped over his forehead, some softly veiling his ice blue eyes. He had a light stubble on his face covering up some of his warm smile flanked with dimples. He was dressed in a dark green vest, a light blue doublet on his compact figure and a rapier attached to his sword belt and a jacket thrown over one arm. All of which was stained in dirt and grime.
Kveldulf and Jeanne looked at him, food still in their mouths. “Yes …?” Kveldulf asked.
“Well, my name is Augustus Lucius Silvius,” said the man, giving a short bow, “I don’t normally do this, but my friends and I are in a rather precarious situation. We couldn’t help but noticed you two walk into here and you both seem like capable individuals.”
“Uh huh,” said Jeanne as she narrowed her gaze.
“Well, you see we’re here trying to explore some ancient ruins and our guide might have … well … swindled us.”
“Uh huh,” said Kveldulf with a blank expression.
“So, my friends and I thought that you two might be able to—”
“We literally haven’t been here for more than five minutes,” said Jeanne, “And I just want to eat in peace.”
“Oh of course, of course, but perhaps we could help each other out.”
“The hell are you talking about?” asked Kveldulf, food splatter leave his mouth. Jeanne wiped the back of her head, and turned to Kel with a furious look, Kveldulf recoiled slightly. “I am so sorry.”
“In any case, me and my compatriots were wondering if we could pull our resources together. You help us with the ruins, we help you with your brigands.”
“I don’t know you, I’m starting to not like you, I don’t like how you know why we’re here, and I’m about ready to introduce you to your own duodenum if you don’t back off!”
As Jeanne was leaving her seat, Kveldulf grabbed her shoulder to pull her back. The man with the curved sword calmly rose from his seat and walked up the three. Reaching the counter, he patted his companion on the shoulder. “Silvius, hate to interrupt, but Maeryn and Hypatia needed your help on something.” he said to Silvius.
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Silvius looked to Kveldulf and Jeanne, then back to his friend and said, “Oh, you don’t mind?”
“Not at all, could do some good to stretch my legs and get another drink.”
Silvius nodded, walking back to the two women back at the table.
The tall warrior watched Silvius head back to the table before turning back to Jeanne and Kel. He lifted his lifted his hand to the seat. “May I?”
Jeanne glared at the man, all the while saying nothing. Kveldulf, seeing her expression, said, “I think you’re fine, but she’s about to hit her limit.”
“Fair enough,” said the man as he took a seat at the bar.
“That was subtle what you did there, with your friend,” said Kveldulf.
“Oh, Silvius?” said the man, “He’s about as brilliant as they come, though he’s still learning to work with people outside of libraries and those little meeting things they have … oh what is that word?”
“Symposiums?” Silvius chimed in from the table.
“Aye!” said the man. “That’s the one. Symposiums.”
“Wait,” said Jeanne, “Your friends can hear us?”
“Not all of them, just Maeryn, our elven friend.”
“Oh yeah … forgot about her,” said Kveldulf.
“Well, as my friend mentioned, our guide literally left us in this town with no money and now with rumors of us stealing things.”
“And this guide of yours?” Jeanne insisted.
“He called himself Culain, whatever that means, but he’s the one who left with a farm girl.”
“So, it is the same guy,” said Kveldulf.
“Sadly, aye,” said the man.
Patches of Jeanne’s skin manifested into a rock covering as an eye began twitching.
“Is … is she all right?” the man asked.
“I’d probably get to the point before she gets miffy,” said Kveldulf.
“Right, well we’d like to find the man and, you know, get our money back, and perhaps repair our reputation” said the man as he leaned in, “And while my friends would prefer he be turned into the proper authorities, as for myself, I wouldn’t mind if he was hanged, drawn, and quartered.”
Immediately, Jeanne’s rock patches dissipated into mist, revealing her skin underneath completely untouched by the transformation. She turned to the man, a smile on her face and a hand extended. “Hi there, I’m Jeanne Marais,” she said to him.
The man returned the gesture, smiling brightly. “Benkin, though most just call me Ben. If you want, we could eat at the table with the others.”
“I’m not against it,” said Kveldulf, “What about you, Jeanne?”
Jeanne shrugged. “I’m fine, but we’ll need room for Cid.”
“That won’t be an issue,” said Benkin, “As they say; the more, the merrier!”
***
Kveldulf closed his eyes as he listened to the nocturnal symphony of distant howls of wolves, chirping of grasshoppers and the hooting of owls. As he controlled his breathing, he felt his body and his mind enjoy the calmness of the night. He pulled out his pipe and reaching into a pocket, takes out a small linen pouch of leaves. Before putting some leaves into the pipe, he examined the wooden piece and remember his father smoking it when on the road, resting by a fire, or looking up at the stars and admiring the glorious sight above him.
Kveldulf remembered watching the smoke floating from the chamber of the pipe. Listening to his father tell him tales of his ancestors, of their line stretching back all the way to the days of the ancient King of Frozen Throne. His favorite was tale was of Arnulf Stormlord, and his brave host arrived to the shores of a small city town of Tonaslyon and fought back the horde of the dreaded Niketas, The Breaker of Kings. How with the halberd forged by dwarven and elven smiths, hewed the warlord into two before his very army, and sent their hearts into panic and save the town from destruction.
Kveldulf imaged himself facing the terrible foe, weapon in hand, fighting alongside his famed ancestor. He wondered if his father or mother could see him now? If they knew where he was, what brought him to these lands, if they thought this was an errand spurred on by a fool’s hope?
He looked up at the stars longingly and wished to hear their voices again. Tears forming from his eyes as he felt a deepening pain in his heart. The hand holding his pipe squeezing the smoking device tightly in his grip as he wished it belonged to his father once more. This shouldn’t be mine, he thought to himself, this never should’ve been mine.
He began to shake and convulse as darkened thought began creeping into every thought. He wrapped his arms around himself as he began to let his sorrow take hold. A shock came to him as he heard Cid call out. “Kel, is everything all right?”
Kel turned to Cid sharply before wiping the tears from his eyes. “Fine,” he said before clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Cid asked.
Kveldulf nodded. “Yeah. Just … had a thought.”
“Well, do you want to come inside or stay out here for a while?”
“I wouldn’t mind staying out here a little bit longer if it’s all the same.”
“Of course,” Cid said, taking out his own pipe, and preparing the chamber for smoking. “Beautiful night, tonight.”
“It is,” Kveldulf said, looking up at the stars “It really is.” He cleared his throat again as he turned to Cid. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Not bad,” said Cid, “We got an official contract for the brigands now. What about you and Jeanne?”
Kveldulf caught Cid up on their conversation with the four they found at the tavern.
“Huh,” Cid said, rubbing his chin. “Do you think we can trust them?”
“Right now, I can’t say,” said Kveldulf, letting out a puff of smoke away from Cid.
“Well, probably shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“I mean, I still have a few buffs left in here if you wanted to chew the proverbial fat.”
Cid shook his head, “I swear Kel, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“I don’t either, but that’s half the fun isn’t it?”
Once inside, Kveldulf brought Cid over to where the others were sitting. Jeanne, herself placed between Benkin and the elven Maeryn.
Kveldulf lifted a hand towards Cid as he spoke to the others. “I have the distinct pleasure to introduce to you all, the Great Rodrigo Diaz de la Vivar de la Cideador.”
Cid turned to Kveldulf tapping his foot and glared at him with murderous intent. “You just had to use my full name, didn’t you?”
“Well, you have to have a little flourish when it comes to these things.”
Cid looked up to the heavens. “I should’ve never have told you any of that.”
“So should we address you as ‘My Lord’?” Hypatia, already pulling out a quill, inkwell and parchments.
“Please do not,” Cid insisted. “I prefer being called Cid, it’s far more to the point.”
“Though tis about time you made it back, m’lord.” Jeanne said to him, bowing her head in an overly exaggerated fashion.
“Don’t you start,” Cid threatened, pointing towards Jeanne as he took his seat. “And for the record, tours of historical knick knacks can be … time consuming.”
“I’d think counting the hairs on your hand would be a better use of one’s time,” said Kveldulf.
“It was for items thirty through fifty-nine. The rest were dark times, such dark and terrible times.”
“For what it’s worth,” said Silvius, “Most of those artifacts weren’t authentic.”
“Wait, what?” Cid blurted.
“Most of them are replicas,” said Silvius. “A few of them hardly looked like what they were trying to imitate.”
“How … how did you?” Cid said, confused.
“Like I said,” Benkin said, “This man knows his stuff.”
“Did the reeve show you that emblem of the Elden King?” Maeryn asked Cid.
“Yes, and for a moment I though he was going to lick it,” Cid replied.
“He does get that look often, didn’t he?” Hypatia followed.
“So, Kel here caught me up with most of what’s gone on,” said Cid, adjusting in his seat, “But I do have a few questions. Firstly, what are these ruins you were trying to find?”
Silvius leaned forward, both his hands clasped together resting in front of his face. “Well, these aren’t just your normal run of the mill ruins. There is supposedly a whole cave complex a few miles from here rumored to have been one the residences of the Wraith King, himself.”
“Callanband?” Cid said in a hushed whisper.
Kveldulf clenched his fist underneath the table, keeping it the other’s view. “How certain are you this place exists?”
“I cross referenced some of the few remaining maps from that era, along with a recent tome I found within the library’s archives back at the university, which stated this fortress was founded around this area.”
“And what do you expect to find there?” Jeanne asked him.
“Honestly, I can’t say,” Silvius replied, shrugging. “It could be bereft of everything aside from a stone corpse long since picked clean.”
“Even then, finding this place would give some insight into how the Wraith King kept hold of these lands for centuries,” said Hypatia. “Especially since his lapdog, Baeron, supposedly used the fortress as a base for his vicious doings.”
“Perhaps we could find some artifacts to sell to a buyer,” said Maeryn.
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Jeanne, take a drink from her flagon.
“Agreed,” said Cid, “Though I think we should attend to the matter of this Culain fellow and where his friends are first.”
The elven Maeryn turned away, a pained expression on her face. Kel, Cid and Jeanne all noticed, looking at each other quickly before turning back to her. “Is everything all right?” Cid asked her.
Maeryn would not speak, Hypatia putting her hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Our guide and Maeryn became … close shortly after we arrived here. Then on the night he left, he whisked with something of personal value to her.”
“What do you mean?” Kveldulf asked.
“It was a necklace from my mother,” Maeryn told them. “It’s the last thing I have of hers and he just took it like it was a simple trinket.”
“Could there be anything about it that could make it something to pinch?” Kveldulf asked her.
Maeryn shook her head. “There isn’t anything magical about the piece. It’s just been in the family for generations and is priceless to me.”
Kveldulf let out a long exhale, nodding his head slowly.
“Well,” said Cid, “I think we’re in agreement with how we want to approach this matter. If you four don’t mind, I’d like to discuss a few things over with my companions.”
“Of course,” said Silvius, “We understand, we have the rooms across from each other at the far end of the hallway upstairs if you need us.”
“Much obliged,” Cid replied, as he, Jeanne and Kel watched the others take their leave. Once they were out of earshot, Cid turned back to the two. “All right, what are your thoughts?”
“I didn’t get any sense they were lying,” said Kel, “But, and I hate to sound like I’m on the fence, that could mean they’re good at speaking falsehoods.”
“Good thing I’m here, then,” said Jeanne.
“What do you mean?” Kveldulf asked.
“I’m a trained spell-sword, Kel. You’re smart enough to put it together.”
“No,” Kel said slowly.
“You don’t expect us to be working with complete strangers and not use a truth spell.”
“When did you cast it?” Cid asked, “You have to speak the words to cast the spell.”
Jeanne lifted her flagon to her lips. “One does not need to see cast to be in its influence,” she said through the dram. “I did it after Kel and I took our seats at the table as I had a sip of my drink. And even if I didn’t, from what they said, they seem all right with me.”
“Damn,” said Kveldulf, “I’m impressed.”
“Something I learned from Caleb when we were stationed at Ostenband. Worked a lot when we needed to interrogate someone who would resist the spell otherwise.”
“Very nice,” said Cid nodding before taking a sip of his mead.
“So, we’re going to do business with them then?” Jeanne asked Cid.
“I’ve got a good feeling from them and you two seem to be fine with the idea,” Cid replied.
“Should we go tell them then?” Kel asked.
“In a little bit,” said Cid, “I want something to eat first, I’m famished.”