Artyom arrived at the inn, a two-storey building made primarily of stripped logs. Its foundation was fortified with cut stones neatly arranged in a running bond pattern with some sort of gray mortar slathered between them, just like most brick walls. A wooden sign was hanging from a horizontal pole seven feet from the ground. It was decoratively painted and read “Ruba’s Inn” in a wavy font that was closer to print than cursive, and featured the silhouette of a mug and moon.
Standard, in other words. A kind of standard that made Artyom reach for a nonexistent cowl to throw over his head and project an air of tough indifference. Instead, all he found was the back of his linen shirt and head of cropped hair.
“Right, Fairytale world. No secret gangs or bar fights waiting to happen,” said Artyom to himself as he took a calming breath and opened the door to step inside.
To no surprise, the inside was also standard. On his right was the bar, consisting of a table made of ash-gray wood stretching several feet long, its back shelves stocked with a small yet colorful selection of bottles.
In front of it were stools made of the same wood, with several people seated on them. On the right was a space filled with a few tables and chairs where a pair of elderly men sitting at the front played a game with dice. Off to the back was a staircase that led to the second floor, which likely held rooms for guests to sleep in.
The people at the bar however were a much more colorful group. Besides the older woman serving drinks behind the bar, the three sitting on the barstools were dressed very differently than anyone else Artyom had met in town so far.
While the smattering of villagers walking around wore lightly-dyed linen and wool clothes similar to Chey’s, these three were dressed in brighter colors and choice materials. Closest to the door was a young man with blond hair and a chainmail shirt who carried a sword on his back. He had a jovial expression on his face and was in the middle of downing a cup of bright-red liquid in a single go.
To the left of him was a young lady with medium brown hair shaped in a bun, who wore a sturdy leather mail dyed a leafy green with camouflage patterns and carried a bow on her back. She was cheering the swordsman on.
And finally on her left was another young lady with hair as red as the man’s drink hanging loose. She, unlike the others, was unarmed, but wore blue robes with wide, vertical white streaks on the sides. The center streak of blue was decorated in various golds and greens in an intricate symbol. She was shyly cheering the man on along with the woman next to her.
However, as soon as Artyom walked in, all eyes went on him. Everyone had a look of curiosity, save for the lady serving and the swordsman. The bar woman looked happy at the prospect of having another new customer, and the armored man was still focused on his drink.
“Ah, hello there!” said the lady behind the counter, motioning Artyom to take a seat there. “Welcome to my inn! I’m Ruba, and you won’t find better food and drink anywhere else in town!” Her facial features were softer than that of Chey and his farmhand, and skin much more pale. Perhaps the difference of a life of outdoor labor versus indoor service?
“Thank you,” said Artyom politely. He wiped his feet on the welcome mat and made his way to the bar. He decided to take a seat towards the other end of the bar from the swordsman; far enough away that he’d likely not be bothered by them, but not too far to look like he was purposefully avoiding the group. No better way to get someone’s attention than to look like you were trying to avoid it.
Just as Artyom took a seat, the swordsman finished his drink and slammed the sturdy wooden mug onto the counter. He turned to the two women next to him to see their reactions to his great feat before looking at Artyom.
“I’m guessing you’re from out of town as well?” asked the swordsman. “I thought my party and I would be the only ones!”
Artyom looked around to make sure the man wasn’t addressing someone else, and upon realizing he was the only one in view, he internally sighed before responding. “That’s right. I’m just passing through and stopping for lunch.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Ruba’s eyes lit up when he mentioned lunch. “I have some fresh barley stew today! Along with some nice, crispy bread. You three haven’t eaten anything yet either, would any of you like some now?”
“Sure!” replied the swordsman. “We’ll take care of your rat problem right after.”
“Aah, don’t talk about that!” said Ruba with a wince. “I don’t want the rumors to spread even more, especially when there’s someone else from out of town here!”
Artyom faced forward to disengage from the conversation, but couldn’t help but smirk at the trite exchange right out of a story.
“Oh sir, please don’t tell me you’re going to be spreading rumors now,” said Ruba. “This is my livelihood at stake, here! I can’t believe these three I hired to take care of the problem are only going to make it worse.”
The swordsman paled while his two companions turned red with embarrassment.
Getting himself dragged back into the conversation made his left eyebrow twitch, but nobody seemed to notice. “My lips are sealed,” said Artyom while motioning with his thumb and index finger across his mouth. “And Chey already told me about it earlier, so your adventurers aren’t entirely at fault.”
“Bah, this entire town is full of nosy gossips!” cribbed Ruba. “But I can’t really blame Chey. If I was in his shoes, half the kingdom would know by now!”
The entire inn erupted in laughter, and even Artyom let out an unexpected chuckle. He had to admit, Fairytale Worlds were much livelier than where his missions normally took him. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go along with it and unwind a little?
“Where missions normally take me…”
Artyom felt himself grow cold. The levity the townsfolk had filled him with suddenly evaporated as he sneered at what he was reduced to; a mere tourist, when lives were at stake! That new recruit back at headquarters talked about some big mission coming up, and Artyom wouldn’t get to be a part of it while stuck here.
But he had no choice.
Artyom might have been stuck here, but at least he could make the most out of the opportunity while trying to have faith in the other soldiers. Running missions didn’t give much chance to practice any longer-term skills or perform personal experiments. And with the newly rescued kids now making their home at headquarters, some of them might eventually want to join the good fight alongside Artyom once they were older.
They would need a guiding figure; someone to train them with a gentle hand while making sure they got all the skills they needed to survive out in the cold, unforgiving multiverse. And since he was the one who saved them, the job was likely to go to him.
Artyom was out of practice, however, but there was an opportunity to fix that right in front of him.
“Is everything alright, sir?” asked Ruba as she looked closely at Artyom’s scrunched up face.
“I was just deep in thought about what the swordsman just mentioned,” said Artyom while facing the adventuring team. “You’re going to go kill the rats right after eating?”
“Of course, we’ve been on the road since we woke up and we’re starving!” he said proudly.
“Even if they are rats, it can be pretty dirty work. I’ve always been taught to never get into anything so messy right after eating a big lunch, because it won’t always stay put.”
The swordsman slightly paled at this, somehow noticeable despite his light, freckled skin. The lady with the bow did as well, but the one in the robes grew slightly wide-eyed at Artyom’s revelation and slowly nodded.
“Uh, thanks for the advice. Most of our quests haven’t been that messy, so I didn’t realize something as small as rats would be. I’m Saemial, by the way. Everyone calls me Sae.”
“Artyom, pleasure to meet you,” he replied back.
“And this is Pireni and Skeya,” said Sae, pointing towards the archer and lady in robes.
“Nice to meet you too!” said Pireni. “I’m the team’s ranger. Sae’s the meathead and Skeya is the cleric.”
“Excuse me, my official title is swordsman,” replied Sae, in slight annoyance. “Just because I’m the one who has to get near the enemy to attack, it doesn’t mean I’m dumb!”
The other two party members laughed at his response, Pireni sounding much more boisterous than Skeya.
“Nice to meet you, Artyom,” said Skeya, once their laughter had died down. “I try to help everyone do their best.”
“How innocent, it’s outright adorable!” Artyom thought. “They’ll be the perfect test subjects.”