"You ask me, what they gave us was an insult"
It was hard to hear anything in the mead hall, with several others having their own conversations at once in a tight room. The mead hall must be able to house so many in such cramped quarters, with the fire's small yet glowing presence could only do much to drown out the cold. This is why the hall itself felt a tad quieter than before. John was very quick to pick up what he said. "Precisely old friend," John replied to him. "Rodrik and his band should have been worth far more than what they've given us,"
"I mean, 300 coins? For those who have burned three outposts by themselves?" Alfred yelled, probably too loud for his own good. Even in the small colony at Nordlund, the Crown of Westhaven could hear them, even if it were to be ahead of an old, dying man. It did not help that 300 coins had to be shared with not just him and his children, but also the several men that Alfred has.
Thankfully for them, the constant shouting was so prevalent, that Alfred's statement could be taken as banter. No guard would be in the presence of the alehouse if not merely to have a drink or two.
With the general decline of morale around the colony, the alehouse was a haven for them. No bandits, wolves or winter could harm them here. Hence the crowded nature of the place, where dozens gather to escape their sober, sterile world.
"Cheap bastards, they couldn't even put up a good fight against those bandits," John said as he sipped his ale. The only thing that could soothe his soul. He had stayed for ten seasons in Nordlund, more than the average Westerner who came to visit. And yet, he always felt he was rock bottom. No luck has ever come to them since they entered.
"The only ones who can celebrate for us is ale," Alfred said as he poured it away for his friend. The smell was nearly strong enough to suggest they had enough.
"You alright, old friend?" John asked.
"Shut up, let me contemplate," Alfred murmured. His voice croaking with sadness. John sighed deeply, clearly upset to see his friend in a pathetic state. If for any other man, John would gain a laugh. But all he could gather from Alfred was groans and disappointment.
"What should I say to Harold? And Edwin about this," John thought as he put down his cup. Unlike his friend Alfred, he tried his best not to get himself drunk, knowing that one ale usually leads to many. Ten seasons, and yet fortune has not favoured them. Perhaps Nordlund is just as cruel to them as their home. Such is fate, for them to be constantly in debt like this. He couldn't bring himself to say that to his son, let alone his nephew.
His nephew, of course. Harold was a great fighter, even at his young age. He could only hope that his dear son would match his strength. If Harold was as meek as Edwin, he would have loved him more. John snapped back to reality as Alfred started to slam the table in front of him.
"Can you shut up damn it!"
"You shut up, what is wrong with you?" John hissed, seeing his friend had nothing but incoherent words to spit out. Some leader he is, John thought. Of course, what use is to wail over their disappointment. Perhaps ale is the only one there for him.
'No harm to drink up now,' John thought as he took his cup. Just then, a bright colour lured his eyes. Among the rowdy crowd, there was one striking member among them who have been eying them for a long time.
John went back to his senses as he slowly put down his ale. His eyes, looking at the far right corner with the bronze antlers, confirmed his suspicions. He saw a blue-cloaked woman with her face hidden. The mask she wears resembles a husk, with its black, bleak eye holes being somewhat hiding the occupant. What kind of woman is she? John could only suspect as she sat down all of a sudden.
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"The figure, near the antlers, is she a common visitor?" John asked as the barkeeper was tending to his guests. He simply shook his head, as he too was confused. "Nay didn't even know she came here," the barkeeper said as he polished the cups. John looked at him again, and back at his ale, with a letter conveniently next to it. "Come to me," the rushed writings on the parchment said as John looked at her with disbelief. It can't be her, could it be? John looked up to her, as she was barely visible from the crowd.
The cloaked woman nodded back, meaning he's the one. John looked back at his drunken friend, still in a daze as John woke him up.
"See that lady over there?" John said to Alfred, who looked at her nonchalantly. Alfred took a gaze, rubbing his eyes and blinking to get a clearer vision.
"Why, taken a fancy on her?" Alfred joked.
"Idiot, she has been looking at us the whole time," John replied back angrily, as Alfred slightly regained back to his senses.
"Why don't you ask her to leave, then?"
"Fine, if you insist," John said as he stood up, sighing once again to see his friend lying there. Perhaps he was a bit drunk himself, as he nearly hit a patron on the way. She made an excellent choice to sit there, as it was near the fireplace.
"Lady, what are you doing here?" John demanded as he sat down, while he took the time to appreciate the fire next to them, as he rubbed his hands. "You're John, aren't you?" The lady said as John was taken aback.
"How did you know my name!?" John asked. He looked around, mostly out of paranoia.
"I heard quite a lot of tales about you," the lady replied in a cordial manner. She definitely wasn't like any other woman he met in the last four seasons. Was she Western? A Nord? John couldn't tell, as her eyes and hair were hidden. But he was more interested in what she wanted to say.
"So, you were spying on us the whole time?" John asked and demanded.
"You could say that a more proper word would be 'surveying' " the lady replied nonchalantly. Her mask didn't help at all, as John could not pick up her appearance. "Mind telling me why you're wearing that mask?" John asked as the lady simply looked at him.
"Does it bother you?" the lady asked.
"It bothers me if you want to have business with me," John replied. He wasn't the best negotiator, mainly due to his lack of politeness.
"I understand, you wouldn't care what I look like, would you?" the lady replied, her softer voice responding to his gruff tone.
"It matters whether my client is some Nordic witch or not..." John said jokingly. John knew that those 'witches' are now merely tales with half-truths in them. "Just so you know, we are leaving Skoravik in a day's time from now,"
"Of course, that would be perfect," the lady replied, almost happily to him. John raised his eyebrow, wondering why would she be so happy about their departure. "So, you still haven't answered my question, why the mask?"
" Why? It offends you good sir?" the lady said back, this time remembering her manners. "I am merely a trader. Last time, I was with a group, just like yours, but bandits attacked from all sides, I... was the only one left,"
"So, you're asking for protection?" John asked.
"A simple trip to the Klarelva would be appreciated," the lady replied. John could feel a sense of fear in her. She was correct though, that nowadays it has become so hard to travel even between cities. The Western men in red were dwindling in numbers. As if the crown was depleting their army in total. Banditry became more and more prevalent, and mercenaries like him were becoming dime a dozen.
"Klarelva is quite far, perhaps ninety days on horseback I might add," John informed her. His geography of Nordlund, at least among his group, was unparalleled. Most probably due to the fact that he actually paid attention.
"Doesn't matter, if you could provide protection, I would be glad," the lady replied. But there was no hint of joy in John. His face did not indicate that he was convinced.
"We're not charitable men, you know," John replied, with much rigour in his voice. The lady merely nodded as she grabbed something from her cloak. It was no less than 400 coins in that bag. John's eyes lit up, surprised at how much money was in there. Was she of noble birth the whole time?
"If that does not suffice, then..."
"Wait," John said. It was until now he finally saw an opportunity here. Perhaps this young maiden wasn't so annoying after all. Where she got the money from, he did not know.
"Where did you get the money from?"
"I am the daughter of someone important, that's all you need to know," the lady replied. John saw the coins and then looked up at her. He dug into the bag, only to pull out a coin with the face of King Wilfred. Just like every real coin he saw. Perhaps fortune has favoured him. Under normal circumstances, it would be foolish to simply accept it. But how hard could it be to protect one lady?
"So, you said to Klarelva, did you?" John said once again, with a softer voice this time. In a terribly nice tone that John was not accustomed to. Harold and Edwin would have to agree with this half-witted plan, especially the former.