It was a cool night, that signalled the beginning of autumn. Despite this, Louis was bathed in sweat as he struggled to keep up with the orders in the newly rebuilt Happily Ever After inn. It had been decided almost unanimously that the inn would be rebuilt first, and many of tonight’s guests, which included builders from as far as Estos, were staying in the rooms upstairs. Louis nodded briefly to Ogden, who had just strolled up to the bar, before continuing to pour drinks.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place so full,” Ogden mused as he looked around the packed main room. There was barely enough room to stand.
The out of towners treated the locals with a strange reverence, which made them settle in easily, and the townspeople often speculated on just what they were told about the job they were here to perform amongst themselves.
“Tell me about it,” Louis grunted. Steph came along to whisk the heavily laden serving tray away just as he placed the last of filled cups on it.
“And how is our host doing?” Ogden asked with concern as he looked pointedly at the polished oak stairs.
“He seemed fine this afternoon,” Louis remarked. “But he does get tired easily since…”
Louis paused and gave Ogden a pointed look. “Well, you know.”
The mayor of Chalybe nodded and broke into a smile. “The two of you look like you’re on top of things. I hear you’ve sold all of tonight’s roast.”
Louis broke into an involuntary smile before trying to put on a modest face, “It’s just because half the town don’t have kitchens.”
“No, the inn is good hands,” Ogden said. “Otherwise you’d better believe old Winston would be running things himself no matter how tired he felt.”
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“That’s not true,” Louis began.
“Oh but it is.” Louis looked to the stairs and saw Winston standing on the landing, holding onto the banister for support.
“You’re looking better,” Ogden remarked.
Louis rushed out from behind the bar to help Winston down the stairs but was waved away. There was colour in the landlord’s cheeks now, and he was looking steadier on his feet.
“I think the worse of it is over,” Winston said with a wan smile.
There had been a few days just after the incident where Winston could not get out of bed for the whole day, which had made everyone fraught with worry, and Louis was relieved to see that his boss’ health seemed to be on an upward trend.
“Ah Winston, there you are!” cried Greg from a choice seat next a window. He was one of the many townspeople who had taken up temporary residence in the inn and had been one of the first in the main room that evening. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come down at all. How about a story?”
“Why don’t we wait until Mister Weaver has had something to eat before badgering him?” Steph said sternly, cutting a cheer from the guests short. The room fell eerily silent. Steph had the authority to control the flow of drinks and wasn’t afraid to use it, as many of the guests had learned to their cost.
“No, no it’s fine,” Winston said as he descended the stairs. “I had better do something to earn my keep around here with the two of you running things so well.”
Franklin the hunter led the cry. “Hooray for Winston!”
Carson, who had just brought a fresh batch of fine liquors up from Estos vacated comfortable leather armchair next to the fireplace while Louis quickly brought a glass of Fencora ’79. Winston reclined in the chair and his twinkled as he looked up at his guests who looked back expectantly, wearing warm smiles.
“My friends, it is my great pleasure to entertain all of you on this fine evening,” he began. “I apologize for my absence in recent weeks and promise to make it up to you.”
“I think that’s enough preamble,” Ogden said loudly from the bar. “Get on with the story!”
“Story!” the others cheered.
Winston smiled broadly. “That’s fair enough. I call this story, ‘A Place to Call Home.’”
His eyes twinkled and he took a deep breath. “It all began when a tired old soldier decided to settle down and open an inn in a town inhabited by the most accommodating and warm people in the entire world.”