The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “…Yes.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “History.”

  “You mean, world history like you were asking me about the other day? Sorry I didn’t know more.”

  Ryoka shook her head.

  “The history of the cities.”

  “Oh. Is it, um, interesting?”

  “Not really.”

  It was fascinating. Ryoka was no history buff, but it was amazing what being transported to another world did for her interest in mundane things like economics and politics.

  “It must be nice, being able to read.”

  The envy in Garia’s tone made Ryoka look up at last.

  “…You can’t?”

  Garia turned red.

  “Not so much. I can do signs and math but – I mean, most folk can’t read too well. Not books or anything fancy like that. Fals can read, though. I’ve seen him reading books.”

  Ryoka raised her eyebrows.

  “Good for him.”

  Again, Garia was forced to continue a mostly one-sided conversation.

  “Where’d you get the book?”

  “I bought it in the market. Didn’t cost much.”

  “Really? I thought most books were several gold coins – at least.”

  “Some sell for silver. Either way, it’s fine.”

  Ryoka scowled as she chomped on another lukewarm slice of ham. The lack of any library in this city meant she had to buy any books she wanted to read, and some were annoyingly expensive. But she wasn’t about to get into a discussion of economics with Garia and fuel the conversation.

  The problem was, Garia was more than capable of finding topics of interest by herself. The other girl stared at the pile of books on the table.

  “Are you going to read all of these, then?”

  “Read ‘em.”

  “What, all of them?”

  “Not like I have anything else to do.”

  Ryoka deliberately turned a page.

  —-

  I really wish she’d go away. Or do I? At least she’s keeping drunk guys from hitting on me.

  I hate this. I hate her, I hate this inn, and I hate this entire world. If I could burn it down to the ground I’d—

  Probably not. At least, she’s not the one I hate. So maybe destroy all the world except for a few people.

  But the pain. And boredom, let’s not forget. It’s a sad day when Garia’s daily visit is the most interesting thing that happens to me.

  It’s been one week since my ‘accident’. Another week of this and I might seriously snap. But my leg—

  Damn it all. If I could kill every damned Street Runner in the world I would in an instant. Even if I had to stare into their eyes as I choked them to death. I will have vengeance, I swear it.

  But until then, how the hell do I heal my leg? How, how, how? If it’s really beyond most normal magics—

  Ask Garia. She might know of a better way, even if her first idea failed. Worth a shot, and I hope I have enough money for whatever I need. Crap, she’s been talking and I have no idea what she said. Better wing it.

  Huh. That’s a crowd coming in right now. Hope they don’t want to share the table. They look familiar, though.

  Who’s that? Another Runn—

  Her.

  Kill her. Stab her. Break her bones. Don’t do it. Do it. Hurt her. Smash her stupid face in. Kill. Killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill—

  —-

  Garia realized Ryoka hadn’t heard her question the third time she repeated it. The other young woman had frozen in place, staring at something over Garia’s shoulder. Garia turned, looked, and knew there was about to be trouble.

  “You.”

  Ryoka shoved her chair back and swung up onto her good leg. Persua smirked at her.

  “Oh, Ryoka? I didn’t see you there. Fancy meeting you in this inn. How are you doing?”

  It was hard getting her leg out from under the table. But when she did, Ryoka stood up on her good leg and lunged for Persua faster than anyone would have guessed. She never made it, though.

  Garia grabbed Ryoka by the shoulder and gently pulled her back. Despite Ryoka’s attempts to shake her off, she refused to let go and dragged Ryoka back from the smirking Persua and her gaggle of Street Runners.

  “Let go.”

  “No, calm down Ryoka. If you start a fight you’ll be the one in trouble.”

  The expression on Ryoka’s face suggested she was fine with that, but Garia could count. There were at least eight Street Runners behind Persua, and they looked ready to cause trouble. One-handed, she pulled Ryoka back and made her sit back down.

  That should have been hard to do, even to an injured Ryoka, but Garia was stronger than she looked. And she looked like a farm girl capable of lifting bales of hay with one hand.

  As she pinned Ryoka to her chair, Garia moved so she was between her friend and Persua.

  “Why don’t we all settle down? Persua, you and your friends can go have a drink somewhere else, okay?”

  Persua spread her hands innocently and ratcheted up her pitch another octave in innocent protest.

  “I don’t understand what you mean Garia. I’m just saying hi to Ryoka who’s had a little accident. Can’t you understand that? Or are things going too fast for you to keep up with?”

  Now it was Garia’s turn to flush, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

  “You’ve had your fun, but I think you should leave, Persua.”

  Persua gave Garia and Ryoka a sickly sweet fake smile.

  “But as a fellow City Runner, I want to let Ryoka know how terribly sorry I am that she got in the way of that runaway cart. If only she’d listened to her fellow runners. We were all trying to warn her, you know. But that’s Ryoka for you. She just doesn’t listen now, does she?”

  Garia could feel Ryoka’s shoulder trembling under her hand. It was getting harder to hold her down, and that was before Persua ‘accidentally’ mentioned how horrible it had been that no one was able to help Ryoka until she dragged herself to the nearest guardhouse for help.

  What might have happened next was anyone’s guess. Persua was still gloating, oblivious to the trouble, but Garia could see Ryoka glancing at a sharp knife sitting on her plate. The Street Runners behind Persua were numerous, but they were getting unfriendly looks from other inn patrons who might just relish a bar fight if it meant getting rid of unwanted strangers.

  Garia was debating the merits of getting stabbed and preventing a fight, versus witnessing Persua’s death, regardless of whatever consequences it entailed.

  But then the door opened again, and a hush fell over the room. Where the Street Runners had entered into the noise and chaos of the inn, the next group that entered brought silence with them.

  Casual inn-goers of the variety of merchants, farmers, shopkeepers and so on scrambled out of the way as a huge, armored Minotaur strode into the room. He had a massive steel battleaxe strapped to his back, and he was followed by five more adventurers: three mages and two more warriors all armed to the teeth.

  The Horns of Hammerad looked around and spotted Ryoka and Garia on the other side of the inn. Their leader immediately made a beeline for the two, walking in an open space of his own. No one wanted to get in the way of the Minotaur’s path.

  Persua was still mocking Ryoka and Garia, oblivious to the newcomers in the inn. The Street Runners behind her were nervously eying the approaching adventurers, but they didn’t move from their spot.

  The Minotaur named Calruz stopped in front of the Street Runners and glared down at them. Persua turned and let out a high pitched scream as she saw his face. He jerked one thumb and pointed.

  “You. Runners. Out of the way.”

  The Street Runners exchanged one glance and then shifted out of the way. Calruz snorted in contempt and brushed by them as they edged away.

  Persua made a disgusted face and pinched at her nose as he passed by. But when one of th
e female mages glared at her, she shrank back as well. There was an unspoken difference in power between the Runners and the Adventurers, and once they realized the Horns of Hammerad had business with Ryoka, they decided to leave the inn quickly.

  Garia gaped as the six adventurers stood in front of the table. They were all wearing armor, or robes of high-quality cloth. The two warriors standing behind Calruz wore shining chainmail, and the mages carried glowing staves and a wand that gave off ethereal fiery sparks.

  That last bit was especially concerning to the innkeeper who nervously eyed the wand, but he didn’t make any vocal objections. The tall, mustached human warrior standing next to Calruz nodded at Ryoka and gave her a friendly smile.

  “Ryoka Griffin? We’re part of the adventuring party, the Horns of Hammerad. You bailed us out of a tough situation last week. Do you mind if we sit?”

  Ryoka stared up at the adventuring party. She didn’t appear overly impressed.

  “You’re blocking my light.”

  The vice-captain blinked. He exchanged glances with the other warrior while the mages frowned, but the Minotaur laughed.

  “Hah! Spirited! It is good to see that in a Human at last!”

  He stuck out a massive, gauntleted hand.

  “I am Calruz of the Beriad. I lead the Horns of Hammerad, an adventuring party in these parts. I am in your debt Ryoka Griffen. May we sit?”

  Ryoka blinked in the face of this direct approach. She paused and then reluctantly nodded, shaking Calruz’s hand.

  “Fine.”

  Immediately, the Horns of Hammerad pulled up chairs and another table to sit next to Ryoka and Garia. Calruz had to sit perched in his chair which creaked ominously beneath him, but seemed happy enough.

  Once all the adventurers were seated, a barmaid approached and they ordered drinks and food. Ryoka wasn’t hungry, and Garia, awestruck by the company, was too shy to eat.

  In between the barmaids bustling around and delivering drinks and food, the vice-captain leaned forwards and addressed Ryoka.

  “We owe you a debt of gratitude for that delivery you did for us a week ago. Without it, we’d all have been killed by that damned Lich. Thanks to you though, we managed to kill it and recover a lot of magical artifacts. Ceria’s got a new set of mage robes she owes all to you.”

  One of the female mages nodded and gestured at her clothing. She was wearing a dark blue set of robes embroidered with glowing golden sigils around the hem and edges of the rich cloth.

  It seemed foolish to bring such expensive clothing into an inn, but Ryoka noticed that when Calruz accidentally splattered the dress while reaching for a tankard, the liquid simply ran down the cloth and onto the ground. She was immediately impressed and wondered how much the magical cloth cost.

  Garia looked around the table, wide-eyed.

  “I just heard that Ryoka was doing a delivery to the Ruins. Was it that helpful?”

  One of the warriors snorted.

  “Delivery? Hah! She charged right past the Lich that had us pinned down and dropped the potions off right in the center of the battlefield! He was casting fireballs and lightning around her, but she even drew his fire as she left—gave us a chance to regroup!”

  Ryoka shifted uncomfortably as Garia gaped at her. The problem with being in an inn was that other people were listening. Already she could tell patrons on the other tables were listening in on their conversation. She shrugged.

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Your job? No other Runner would have pulled off a feat like that. You saved our lives.”

  She was having a hard time meeting the earnest vice-captain’s eyes. Ryoka shrugged and picked at her ham as he continued.

  “Without the potions the best we could have hoped for would be a retreat where we didn’t lose too many of our party. In the worst-case scenario we’d have lost over half of our group and that’s if the Lich didn’t follow us.”

  Calruz nodded.

  “Instead, we managed to break that damn skeleton’s head in. The treasure we recovered more than made up for the expedition. And while the rest of our group is still healing from the battle, we’re here to repay the debt we owe.”

  Ryoka raised her eyebrows. Minotaurs. Honor? They didn’t seem to go together, but either Calruz was an exception, or Minotaurs had quite a strong sense of right and wrong.

  The vice-captain cleared his throat awkwardly.

  “We expected to meet you again, since we heard you were a popular Runner around here. But when we heard about your injury, we decided to drop by.”

  Garia looked surprised. It was a long way from the Ruins of Albez to Celum for someone who wasn’t a Runner.

  “You came all the way here just to do that?”

  Calruz nodded impatiently.

  “Of course. What does distance matter? But let us introduce ourselves properly.”

  He poked the female mage at his side and she jumped and glared at the Minotaur. The mage nodded to Ryoka and Garia. She was wearing a hat indoors which was presumably bad manners, but as she removed it they realized why.

  Her ears were slightly pointed, and although she appeared human, this mage seemed subtly different from her companions. Ryoka noticed her skin was—rather than being paler, appeared subtly more vibrant. It was as if her body was simply realer and move vivid than the rest of the world. In her, it was a slight thing, but grew more noticeable the longer Ryoka stared.

  Her eyes tracked down to the young woman’s face. Again, her features were beautiful, but not simply aesthetically. They possessed another dimension she couldn’t explain that added to the exotic nature of the mage’s face. Ryoka saw that her eyes were pale yellow, but made no comment.

  The mage stuck out one hand and Ryoka took it. She wasn’t an elf. But she wasn’t human either.

  Half-elf.

  “Ceria Springwalker.”

  “…Ryoka Griffin.”

  “I’m Garia Strongheart. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  The rest of the company introduced themselves, but Ryoka was still thinking about Ceria. She shook hands mechanically, impassively nodding as the vice-captain expressed his admiration of how she’d saved them. She’d already forgotten his name.

  “Enough of this.”

  Calruz snapped impatiently as soon as the introductions were done. He pointed down towards Ryoka’s leg as it stuck out awkwardly.

  “We didn’t come here to chat. We’re honor-bound to repay our debt, which is why we’re here. And you’re injured. How’d that happen?”

  “Got run over by a cart.”

  “What?”

  The adventurers looked at Ryoka in frank disbelief.

  “Getting run over by a cart I’d believe of normal people, but a Runner? I thought you lot were fast on your feet.”

  Ryoka shrugged unhelpfully and stared at her plate. Uncertainly, Garia cleared her throat.

  “It wasn’t—exactly an accident.”

  She turned red as the Horns of Hammerad focused their attention on her. Calruz tapped a finger on the table.

  “Explain, please.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to say it, but Ryoka sort of broke an unspoken rule in the Runner’s Guild. She did this delivery and made a lot of folks mad—”

  “—And they decided to run her over with a cart?”

  The vice-captain stared incredulously at Garia.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Most of us didn’t know anything about it until it happened. But some of the Street Runners and City Runners – they’re part of a group that enforces the rules. I mean, they’re not real rules but we all obey them.”

  Garia jumped as the mug in Calruz’s hand cracked and shattered in his grip. He angrily shoved the glass pieces aside and gritted his teeth.

  “What pathetic, cowardly lot. I’d challenge them all to an honor duel in a moment if I had cause.”

  Ceria shook her head as she put her hat back on.

  “We d
on’t recognize duels under the law, and they’d run away if you looked at them sideways in any case. It sounds like there’s quite a lot of politics in the Runner’s Guild – and dangerous politics at that if this is what happens to people who disobey.”

  The other adventurers murmured and grunted in disgust.

  “Runners.”

  “Money grubbing backstabbers.”

  “Barely worth the coin we spend to hire them. And for the rates they charge, I could buy a new sword!”

  Garia looked like she wanted to object to the insults, but she didn’t dare. Ryoka was interested.

  “You don’t like Runners?”

  One of the warriors shook his head.

  “You we like. And your friend here doesn’t seem bad. But the rest of your lot are worthless pieces of waste as far as we’re concerned.”

  “We’re not all bad.”

  Garia protested weakly. The vice-captain and the mages shook their heads.

  “You don’t understand, uh, Miss Garia was it? Most Runners don’t do deliveries to battlefields, and some of the ones that do only deliver after the battle ends. We could be in serious trouble, but your people won’t approach until all the monsters are gone. And even then, we have to pay triple—sometimes five times as much just for deliveries to areas we’ve already cleared.”

  “Besides, Runners are only concerned about their pay, not anything else. They won’t stop to help even in emergencies unless we pay them. Even adventurers have more integrity than that.”

  The Horns of Hammerad grumbled, but at least their ire wasn’t directed directly towards Garia and Ryoka. Ceria eyed the dispirited Garia and cleared her throat.

  “That’s not to say all Runners are bad. I know a lot of you deliver goods quickly and for reasonable rates. It’s just that there are quite a few bad Runners in your Guilds, especially the ones that we have to deal with.”

  She nodded at Ryoka.

  “Case in point, your leg.”

  Calruz snorted angrily as he grabbed another mug from a scared barmaid.

  “This is intolerable. A good Runner shouldn’t be crippled. You. Mages. Can’t one of you lot heal her leg?”

  Ceria eyed Ryoka’s leg as as the other mages shook their heads.

  “None of us know advanced healing magic, Calruz. Besides, that looks like a complicated break.”