Book 1: Chapter 38 - The Gilded Gryphon [Part 2]
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Her progress, or musical tour, had been a resounding success. Word of Duke Anatoli’s daughter, her voice and song rumored to be blessed by the Divines, would soon spread to every corner of the kingdom. Additionally, The occasional tale of her martial brilliance at saving the Crown Prince would only help cement this belief. Each retelling would only fan the flames of her growing reputation.
The people would love, adore, and respect her.
That level of influence would be invaluable when she finally faced Este Lize. Supported by the vast, shadowy influence of the Church of Avaria, the protagonist possessed access to a level of resources similar to her own. In the game’s original vision, Church buildings acted as a sort of hub. As Este Lize grew in power and proved herself capable of wielding the power of the Covenant, the Church would provide superior equipment, quests, and even new Holy magic.
But if enough people believed the Goddess spoke through Seraphina’s voice, she might be able to counter a portion of Este Lize’s and the Church’s influence. With enough planning, the faithful might turn their eyes to a new champion.
Yet an uneasy truth gnawed at her: unlike Este Lize, or so she presumed, Seraphina had yet to receive a quest. Was she playing by a different set of rules this time? Would she be forced to grind through monotonous tasks—slaughtering beasties and fetching trinkets—just to scrape together enough strength? Quests were shortcuts to power, great leaps forward that mere mundane toil could never match. To be denied that advantage would be a bitter curse indeed.
Inwardly, she fumed. By now, this society really should have learned the importance of separating church and state. Indeed, if she thought about it, that was probably the whole goal of getting Este Lize married off to that damnable Vellens!
As though echoing her unspoken irritation, the carriage struck a small bump and slowed. It turned a corner and rolled into the courtyard of the Gilded Gryphon, gravel crunching beneath its wheels. At last, it shuddered to a halt before the inn’s manicured grounds.
Seraphina sighed. She would need a word with Frest to ensure their retinue was properly accommodated. Sir Clarendon, one of her father’s old knights, had resisted taking orders from the commoner, but a shattered table at their last stop had tempered his defiance. She had made herself perfectly clear: they were here to serve her will, not their own pride.
Sergeant Frest, for his part, had taken to his authority with relish, lording it over the “hoity-toity” knights. Yet beneath his incorrigible attitude, Seraphina recognized a natural leader with a conveniently flexible and negotiable moral compass—just the sort of man she could mold. Once he improved his horsemanship, she would have him elevated to the knighthood. Then he would be bound to her by gratitude and ambition alike. Another instrument she would need in the troubled times to come.
The messenger who had ridden ahead, a squire of one of her father’s household knights, had informed the innkeeper of their arrival, ensuring the establishment was prepared to receive them. A welcoming party was already waiting as the carriage came to a halt.
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A member of the Gilded Gryphon’s staff stepped forward, opening the door and offering Seraphina a hand to descend. She accepted graciously, a reserved smile on her lips, thankful for her gloves. They provided a barrier between her and the unpleasant thought of touching ‘commonerness’ too directly.
To her surprise, the innkeeper himself awaited her. He appeared to be her age, though an unfortunate bout of acne had turned his face into a battleground. He was also an inch shorter than her. Usually, men or boys like him were invisible and beneath her notice, and it was something of an annoyance that she had to interact with him at all.
“Thank you for choosing our establishment, milady,” he said, beaming a smile that only a liar would dare call charming.
“No, thank you… Mister?” she asked, arching a brow.
“Vellens, milady,” he replied, the smile still plastered on his face. “Born the same year as our blessed Crown Prince, and my parents thought, ‘Why not?’ Wondering why the owner’s so young, right? Well, me folks crossed the Shallow River last year, but they left me this inn and the know-how to run it. You won’t find better service in all of Aran, I’ll promise you that.”
Seraphina had no need for the excerpt from his life story, but she was amused by the fact that it was quite a name to live up to. She stopped herself from laughing and instead offered him a dazzling, practiced smile.
Encouraged, the man prattled on. “Like my folk have been joking and saying, my bride’s about to visit me before the wedding, now that the other Vellens—”
“Innkeeper,” she interrupted sweetly, though the edge in her voice was unmistakable, “what have they been saying about the Crown Prince?” How dare such riff-raff presume to gossip and jest about her marriage. The nerve.
Vellens shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck—disgustingly, a shower of dandruff fell. “Well, no offense, milady, but folks around here have been saying he got cold feet. Others think he didn’t measure up, to your lady’s standards, so he joined the Adventurer’s Guild against King Elidion’s will.”
Seraphina’s distaste grew, but she maintained a veneer of politeness. “Thank you, Vellens. Please share anything further with Sergeant Frest here. I would like to know more about the state of Aran in particular, and of course, news of our Crown Prince,” she commanded, gesturing toward the former bandit. Frest gave the innkeeper a half-mocking salute, clearly enjoying the exchange.
Vellens brightened, emboldened by his avarice. “Beg your pardon, milady, but I’ve heard you’ve been singing?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Seraphina replied with forced sweetness, already weary of the conversation. “But I am tired from my journey. Perhaps another time.”
“I understand, milady,” he said, though his greedy gaze lingered a little too long.
“I’ll take my meal in my room,” Seraphina continued smoothly, eager to put an end to the encounter. “I’ve been told you have gaming tables below?”
“Yes, milady. The Gilded Gryphon is a licensed house. Earned the privilege over a hundred years ago—if my great-grandfather wasn’t a fat liar,” he said, unconsciously rubbing his hands together.
“Well, I am partial to the occasional game of chance,” Seraphina replied airily. “Never made a habit of it, of course, but I can’t deny…”
“There might be some rough company at the tables, milady,” Vellens warned hesitantly. “You know how folk can get when they’ve had a few drinks and are deep n their cups.”
Seraphina’s expression remained unbothered. “You needn’t concern yourself. I am well accustomed to the company of rough men—rough fighting men. A few crass, misspoken words mean nothing to me.”
With that, she drew herself up and added, “Now, Vellens, I truly must see to a bath and wash away the dust of the road. Show me to my rooms.”
Vellens bowed hurriedly, leading her inside.