The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  With me around I can at least fix her meals and help with some small-time repairs, but my job is mainly looking after the chick. I’m certainly not a [Lumberjack]. Truth be told, neither is Durene, but with her strength it doesn’t really matter. I asked her about it at one point; she has an old axe, but she claims she only uses it to hack up the tree when it’s felled. As to the felling, she says it’s easy.

  “I mean, if it’s a small tree, I can just kick it or push it over.”

  …So it sounds simple enough for her. At any rate, Durene gets paid a pittance for supplying Riverfarm village with firewood, so when she’s not with me and Frostwing, she’s out in the forest. Rather, I make her go. I’m now fully confident in myself thanks to my new Skill, and we can’t always be cramped together.

  Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing.

  Anyways it’s just me and Frostwing, testing our reflexes. My attention’s completely focused on the game, until I feel a…sensation at the back of my mind and get distracted.

  As I pull my finger back a bit too slowly, Frostwing hits me with a good peck and pierces my skin. I yelp and I hear what almost sounds like a cheep of apology from her. But I’m not paying attention to the bird. My head turns and I frown.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  By the time [Farmer] Prost stops outside the cottage, I’m already waiting for him, a smile on my lips. If he’s confused by my intuition, his voice doesn’t show any sign of it.

  “Mister Laken, I’m glad to see you’re well this day.”

  “I’m glad to meet you as well, Mister Prost. You’ll have to tell me if you’re well.”

  A bit cold, I know. But I still remember how I last met the man. I hear a pause, and then a note of uncertainty in Prost’s voice.

  “I’m well, Mister Laken. Thank you for asking.”

  “And your wife? How is Yesel doing? And the kids?”

  “All well, Mister Laken.”

  Well, that’s enough pleasantries. I nod and smile again, cheerfully. And say nothing else. If he wants anything else he can just say it.

  After another moment of uncertainty, Prost gets to the point.

  “Not to be interrupting you, Mister Laken, but ah, I was wondering if I could have a word with you. About Durene.”

  “Another word? Well, I suppose I have no choice but to hear you out. What’s wrong with Durene this time?”

  “Nothing, sir. It’s just, well, I’d like to talk, that’s all.”

  Oh? Talk? I see. I let Prost go on.

  “Durene’s a good…girl. But she’s only a [Farmer], and I understand you’re not. She’s said as much when she came into the village a day ago. I’d hate to think she was getting involved with someone with other duties later on, if you understand me.”

  Oh? Is it now ‘you’re too good for her’? What is with these people? My smile freezes a bit on my face. But I keep silent. Wait. Wait for him to keep going and then smack him in the face.

  Metaphorically, of course.

  “We, ah, understand—”

  Now. I jump in, my voice as smooth as I can make it. Friendly. Open. I put honest confusion into my tone.

  “Do excuse me, Mister Prost. I’m afraid I’m a bit off-balance. You see, I thought you were coming here for something else.”

  “Oh? What’s that, Mister Laken?”

  “Well, it’s just that—and you may call me silly for thinking this—I was under the distinct impression that you were coming here to apologize.”

  “Apologize…?”

  “To Durene. For calling her a monster. Inhuman. A freak.”

  I wish I could see his face. I can only tell the man is standing in front of me, but then I hear him shift in the snow. Uneasily.

  “I, ah, regret the other day, Mister Laken. I do. But I only spoke the truth. It needed to be said. And even if Durene was—upset, it don’t change the facts. So I don’t think I need to say anything to anyone, if you understand me.”

  Again I interrupt him. This time I don’t even try to keep the undertone of irritation and anger out of my voice.

  “No, of course not. You’re a grown man and Durene’s only a young woman who looks up to you as an adult. Why should you apologize to her for telling the truth? Why should you feel guilty for hurting the feelings of a half-Troll? My mistake.”

  Prost’s voice is rougher too, but he’s still determined to be polite. I wonder why? It’s not like I’d be able to beat him if he threw a punch. But maybe there’s more in him than just bigotry and prejudice. Maybe he knows I’m right.

  “You seem to feel I should be talking to Durene, Mister Laken?”

  “I would never tell a grown man what to do. But they’re so hard to find these days. No matter where I look, I can’t see any.”

  Another shot, and I know it hits something. But Prost is a stubborn man, a farmer. He doesn’t roll over, he digs in and keeps going. Reasonable tone, conciliatory words. I can tell he wants me to agree with him, to give a bit. Not happening.

  “Durene is—useful. Helpful. She cares, I know that Mister Laken. And we’re lucky to have her around some times. But she’s still a half-Troll. And that means she’s part monster. Not entirely Human. It makes us parents worry some nights. What can you say to that?”

  Half-Troll. It’s as if all Durene is just a word. How can they not see? She is more than that. She’s a [Paladin]. What would he say if I mentioned that?

  “She’s a person, Mister Prost. A person. Where I come from—well, some people judge others based on what they look like it’s true. But take it from a man who can’t see, there’s more than just sight that goes into people. If sight was all we judged by, why, wouldn’t I be as much of a—a monster as Durene?”

  Pause. Did anything I said go through? I hear Prost move about in the snow again, and then he speaks.

  “It’s hard to look at her and not be afraid, Mister Laken. Maybe if I had the courage to close my eyes I’d think differently when I spoke to her. But it’s hard to get past.”

  “Hard, but necessary.”

  “There’s some truth to what you say, sir. I know Durene and she’s never hurt a fly. Maybe—”

  Maybe. Just maybe you’ve been wrong. I wait for more, but that’s it.

  “Well, I’ll give it some thought and let the others know what you’ve said. That’s all I can say, sir.”

  “I’d appreciate that. And I will say that if one more person hints at Durene being not good enough or I hear that she’s a freak, I’ll start throwing things. And believe me, I have pretty good aim even if I can’t see.”

  I could probably nail him with a snowball, at least around Durene’s cottage. But I won’t. He came here to talk to me about Durene, and I said my bit and he said his. If he changes, all for the better.

  But Prost isn’t quite done. He stands there for a while longer, and I have the distinct feeling he’s looking me up and down. When he speaks next, he has that same odd note of respect in his voice. Why?

  “You seem…taller, Mister Laken. Better than before, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad I seem so healthy to you.”

  Taller? What does he mean? But it’s clear Prost means more than just height. He’s about to leave when I hear Frostwing kicking up a fuss inside the cottage. Maybe she’s finally caught Prost’s scent, or she’s hungry again.

  “What’s that sound?”

  I shrug as Prost begins to sound nervous again.

  “Oh, that? That’s a baby eagle I’m raising.”

  “A baby—”

  He chokes on the words.

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you Mister Laken? Where’d you find a baby eagle?”

  “In the snow, just like everyone else.”

  “And you’re going to raise it?”

  “If I can keep trapping animals. Eagles only eat meat, which is sort of tough for me and Durene.”

  I have a sudden thought.

  “Say, Mister Prost, would
you consider selling me some food? I’d be willing to pay you a good price for anything you can spare out of your larder.”

  Prost sounds vaguely surprised at my offer. I guess he really only came up here to chat.

  “Food, sir? I don’t know. It’s awfully dear at this time of year, and the harvest was good, but not so much that I’d want to let anything go for cheap.”

  “How would a gold coin sound?”

  An intake of breath. I wait patiently, face straight. Yes, I have quite a lot of money, don’t I? I’d nearly forgotten with Frostwing, but hey, if you’ve got it, why not spend it? And it’s not like I can eat gold.

  Prost murmurs to himself in surprise. He seems to take for granted the fact that I have a gold coin—from what Durene says every family might have one gold coin’s worth in savings, but probably not more than that unless they work a more profitable job. It’s more hand-to-mouth around here.

  “A gold coin? I’m not sure we can spare…”

  “What about the other villagers? I don’t need much, but I’d like more eggs than Durene’s chickens provide, and I’d love to have enough meat to go round.”

  “The villagers might ah, go for that. But a gold coin—at this time of year—well, I’d have to think about it.”

  I nod seriously, as if I’m considering Prost’s words carefully. Then I rub my hand over my mouth as if in serious thought.

  “How does this sound, then? One gold coin—for whatever dried meat, eggs, and so on you feel you can trade. If the rest of the village will add a bit from their stock, I’ll make it two gold coins. You can take the money, Mister Prost, and change it however you feel is right. And then you can bring me whatever my money’s worth.”

  Credit to him, the other man’s voice sounds only slightly strangled as he replies.

  “That’s—very generous of you, sir.”

  I shrug, slightly.

  “I have a bit of money saved up, and mouths to feed. And I’d like to repay Durene back for all the help she’s been to me. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I do indeed, sir. Well then, if you’re sure I’d happily accept.”

  I hold out a hand, and Prost takes it and gives me a firm shake. His hand is callused and cold. Somehow rougher than Durene’s, even though she has harder skin.

  “Give me one second to get the coin.”

  I love my Skill. Instead of having to search around desperately for the bag of coins and money, I find it in an instant. Durene hid it behind a sack, as if there were thieves lurking around the cottage. Then again, I suppose it would have been bad if Prost had entered the cottage and seen the bag lying around.

  I take two gold coins out and come back to Prost in less than ten seconds.

  “You’re awfully fast for a blind man, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mister Laken.”

  “Blind doesn’t mean slow, Mister Prost.”

  “Of course not.”

  I give him the heavy coins and he promises to bring some food the next day. I have the distinct feeling he’s going to take as much of a cut as he can before paying the other villagers, but that’s pretty much why I made the offer in the first place. And if it means food—all the better.

  Trade negotiations for the Empire of Laken or perhaps the Blind Empire have been concluded. All that’s left is to wait for Durene and give her the good news. She’s astounded of course, and a bit worried.

  “Isn’t spending that much money—”

  “Please, Durene. I found this bag by accident and there’s a hundred times what I just spent in here, easily. If it means we can feed this greedy sack of feathers, I’m all for it.”

  I poke at Frostwing again, noting that she still does not, in fact, have feathers. Durene makes a noise which could be in agreement.

  “How do you think I did in bargaining with Prost, though? Did I pay him too much?”

  Durene thinks about this for a second.

  “A gold coin? That’s…fair? A big, big basket full of meat and food would probably be a gold coin. Two is expensive, but it is winter.”

  “And it’s enough to provide for another mouth and us comfortably throughout the winter. The villagers are happy, and so are we.”

  Durene nods, or at least, I feel her do something as I sit next to her, sharing the blanket.

  “It’s just—that’s a lot of money, Laken. I’ve never even seen more than three gold coins at once, and that’s how much the [Merchant] that visited had.”

  Three gold coins? That makes me smile, but sadly. I have a bag full of wealth beyond Durene’s imagination. And I? I have no sense of what it means to her. In a very real way, I don’t deserve it. But I will try to treat it seriously. After all, if I wasted the gift I was given, that would be even worse than not getting it at all.

  “I think two gold coins is fine, Durene. We could use the food, and this way we’ll be able to eat more than just pottage every night. Moreover, it pays to be a bit generous, but not too much. Especially if they start asking how much money I have.”

  Not that I think they’d risk Durene’s wrath. But the image of the angry mob haunts the back of my mind, and I think, Durene’s. Conversation sort of trails off after that, but I can’t help but feel it was a decent day’s work. Maybe Prost won’t change, but at the very least, I can pay him to feed us. That’s got to be worth something.

  [Emperor Level 6!]

  [Skill – Intimidating Glare obtained!]

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Hmm…? Laken?”

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep, Durene. And you too, Frostwing.”

  Day 38

  He did apologize to Durene, I think. I didn’t hear it myself, and reading between the lines of what Durene said, it was a briefer apology than I would have liked.

  But it was something.

  And we got the food! I think the basket containing the dried ham, eggs, cheeses, and other delicious goods was enough for Durene. I could practically hear her stomach growling as I took it from Prost. And by all accounts, the villagers were happy to give up some food for good coin. So we also earned a bit of goodwill. Score one for generosity.

  Frostwing certainly appreciated the meat. She eats more day by day, and she’s bigger than she was before—substantially. I can feel her getting restless and moving about more, and I wonder how big she’ll get before she’s able to fly.

  Moreover, why was her nest so low to the ground, and in a tree no less? I thought eagles made their roosts high up. There’s something about her—not to mention the fact that even after we’ve washed her, Durene says Frostwing’s fuzz is definitely green.

  I don’t know. I’ll have to wait and see. I’ve managed to train Frostwing a bit—she now knows not to poop in the nest and instead do it in another bowl nearby. Plus, she’s stopped waking me up in my sleep! By this point, I’m a Level 4 [Beast Tamer], the product of much work and pecked fingers. No new Skills, but I consider my new friend a gift enough.

  Durene’s out helping clear snow in the village, and I’m sitting outside, Frostwing huddled in a scarf on my lap. I’m not sure if that’s smart, but my bond with her will tell me when she’s too cold, and I don’t want her to just breathe stale air.

  The air is crisp, but I’m warm and my stomach is full. It’s a nice day. And then I feel it. Something enters the area around the cottage, swooping in from high above. Not something—somethings. I pause, warily, and Frostwing screeches in alarm. Then I hear the voice.

  “Look! Look, sisters! I’ve found him! The one who rules over this small place!”

  What the—? Did I just hear a voice? I turn my head as I hear laughter and feel something flying around me! A bug? A…bird? No. It has a voice! But there’s no person standing around the cottage. I would feel it. Yet there is something in the air.

  “Who’s there?”

  Laughter. A voice that sounds like falling snow and pure ice rings out, up and to the left, as if the speaker is flying. She calls to me.

  “Can
you not hear us, oh Emperor? We are here, Frost Faeries of the Winter Court to meet you! Are you not honored?”

  “Frost Faeries?”

  What’s going on? Are there really faeries flying around my head? My first instinct is to disbelieve, but my sensible brain overrides that.

  Okay, faeries. Durene tells me there’s magic, so why not faeries? Wait, didn’t she mention that name to me—

  “You’re Winter Sprites?”

  More laughter from above me. Frostwing is squirming in my lap, making sounds of distress. I think she’s afraid of these Frost Faeries, and that makes me wary. Already I can remember legends of the sidhe, and how they can be very, very dangerous. I try to remember what to do.

  Be polite, be courteous. Offer them hospitality? Don’t tell them my name or make promises.

  I decide to roll with it. It’s probably the best thing to do, but I throw in some healthy skepticism just to be on the safe side.

  “Greetings, faeries. If that’s who you really are.”

  Above me, I hear a mix of voices speak at once, a few outraged, some intrigued and playful. My god, it does sound like they’re flying around me!

  “You question us?”

  “He does! Look! He cannot see us, only hear us!”

  “He sees naught!”

  “Aye, but he rules over this place nonetheless. Emperor of the Unseen!”

  It’s both terrifying and amazing. But when they mention that title I freeze in my seat.

  “How do you know I called myself that?”

  It was just a joke, said to Durene in the privacy of my cottage weeks ago. The faeries laugh and I feel something colder than freezing in front of my face. Is it right in front of me? I make no move.

  “We heard your words. How could we not? Ye claimed this land to the world and all living in it!”

  Heard my words? How?

  “Well…I suppose I’m flattered that you’re taking such notice of me. But what do faeries have to do with me?”

  A tinkling laugh, like icicles breaking.