The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  What would it be like?

  —-

  That night, a crowd of people gathered in the Frenzied Hare. It wasn’t a huge amount of people—at least, not in terms of the city’s full population. But it packed two thirds of the room until there was only a little bit of space for the two put-upon [Barmaids] and one [Innkeeper] to circulate the room, passing out drinks and food.

  Behind the red curtain that had been hastily stitched together, Erin ran over the play with her actors. They were all new, and they’d barely had time to practice more than once or twice. For any other director, this might have been their worst nightmare.

  But to Erin, it was just a lovely dream. The people in front of her might still be memorizing their lines, but they had more passion in their toenails than she’d seen from some actors on stage. She gave them what tips she could, and trusted them to do the rest. Even someone who hadn’t acted in more than one or two school plays like Erin could pass along some important advice.

  “Always be looking at the audience. Even if you’re facing one another—do it so the audience can see your entire body. Like this.”

  She demonstrated, and the gathered cast watched her nervously. Some asked questions, others shook with stage fright. The [Baker] passed out, but by the time the curtains drew back, he was ready to go, if vibrating with fright.

  The play began. Erin was in agony as she alternated between cooking—throwing together the most mass-producible meals she could of soups and breads, sending Maran running to buy more food to sell at outrageous prices to her guests—while hurrying back out to watch the magic.

  “Two species, both alike in dignity,

  In fair Celum, where we lay our scene,

  From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

  Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

  Grev stood in the center of the stage, declaiming to the audience. He was white with fright, but his words made the listeners murmur in interest. Erin bit at her fingernails with glee as the actors came out.

  The story of Romeo and Juliet was simple. Complex, and simple. At the heart of it was a love affair. But in the first scenes, the play started with a brawl between the two families, or in this case, the two races. Drakes, or rather, people dressed as Drakes and one actual Drake drew real swords and dueled with angry Humans. Actual blood was spilled, but fortunately, not much.

  Erin was too busy shoving hot bowls of soup at Miss Agnes—and spilling some on the woman—to see the fight. But she heard the shout as the fighting ceased.

  “Swords! Lay down your unlawful swords!”

  The actors paused and reluctantly tossed their blades on the ground. A huge man—the actual Watch Captain of Celum himself strode onto the stage with actual [Guardsman] at his back. He was practically bursting with outrage as he roared at the audience who flinched back from him.

  “You men, you beasts! Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace! These brawls by old Capulet, and Montague have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets. If ever you disturb our homes again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace! Go now! On pain of death, all men depart!”

  The play continued, as the lead actor, Romeo played by Wesle was introduced. He went to a ball at the house of a famous Drake [Lord] and there laid eyes on the lovely Juliet, played by Jasi for the first time.

  Erin watched the audience’s expressions. She’d wondered whether they’d like a Drake and Human romance, but despite being from another world and never having seen a play before, they were Humans. Forbidden love captured their hearts and minds and they fell in love with Juliet the moment she took the stage. They sighed and cheered as Romeo and Juliet hit it off.

  But then—from the love scene on the balcony, tragedy! Romeo’s friend Mercutio was slain on stage as the audience cried out in shock and horror. In a rage, Romeo confronted the Drake named Tybalt, sword in hand.

  Wesle pointed a sword at the Drake’s, full of fury and rage.

  “Turn hellhound, turn!”

  Erin had liberally used other famous lines from Shakesphere’s play to add to the drama. The Drake playing Tybalt sneered at Wesle, raising his own sword with a flourish. Undeterred, Romeo advanced, holding his sword with wrath and rage.

  “Damn mercy and peace. Fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! Mercurio’s body is not yet cold—waiting for you or I to give it company in the grave!”

  “You fool.”

  Tybalt sneered at Romeo, lifting his own sword with a dismissive flick of the tail.

  “You are no [Duelist], and my own levels number over twenty one. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here shalt with him hence.”

  Adapted for this world, and mixed with the language of the Bard himself. Erin watched at the two dueled, and then saw how Juliet found herself trapped in a marriage against her will, while she yearned to be with her true love, Romeo. Her only option was to pretend to die so she could join Romeo in exile.

  Thus, Jasi as Juliet implored the dark-skinned girl holding glowing potions to brew her a potion to reunite her with her love. A plea, as it turned out, that Octavia playing Octavia was only too willing to grant.

  The Stitch Girl dominated the stage, playing to her audience hard as she mixed harmless liquids together to create a spectacular reaction for the awed crowd. She held the completed glowing red liquid towards Juliet, chattering away.

  “A potion to feign death isn’t hard to brew. But this is very costly. Fortunately for you, Octavia’s Stitchworks offers substantial discounts to all customers, and my new line of potions which I’ve marked down nearly 50%—”

  “Give me the potion, you heartless [Alchemist]!”

  Juliet snatched the bottle away from Octavia, cutting the surprise monologue short. Octavia sniffed, affronted.

  “Well excuse me for trying to do business.”

  That got a laugh, and then the story continued. At the end, Juliet wept over Romeo’s corpse, too slow, and too late to prevent her love from dying.

  As the sounds of her pursuers reached her ears, Juliet stood in despair, holding the dagger in her hands. Erin heard people in the audience shouting at her not to do anything, but it was too late. Oblivious to the crowd, Juliet stared down at the pointed blade.

  “Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger,

  This is thy sheath. There rust and let me die.”

  The dagger plunged into her chest, and the red potion Octavia had made spurted forwards. The crowd was on their feet, but the play continued before they could rush the stage.

  In the end, after all the lamentation was done, the Watch Captain stood in front of the audience, head bowed, standing in front of the grieving parents of the slain lovers. He spoke to the crowd, his deep voice and sorrowful eyes finding each person in the crowd.

  “A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

  The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:

  Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;

  Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished:

  For never was a story of more woe

  Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

  And after that—there was nothing. Erin had never seen a speechless crowd, but when they regained their voices there was only sound and cheering. The cast had to come out to bow, had to shake hands and even perform some scenes over again, such was the enthusiasm in the room.

  Erin missed all of it. Halfway through the play the audience had forgotten to eat, so spellbound they’d been. But with the thrilling conclusion their hunger came back in force. She cooked like there was no tomorrow, even though it was tomorrow by the time she was done.

  And when it was over? When the last actor staggered out of the inn and Erin had hugged Jasi and watched Agnes collapse onto a table, the bag of coins she’d earned held blissfully on her chest? When she’d seen Wesle walk away, his step full of confidence and—and hope?

  She went back up to her room, walking slowly. Erin’s head was full of cotton; her arms and legs were l
ead. She lay back in her bed, too tired to undress or clean her teeth. The curtain call was upon her, but she delayed the ending for one moment to stare up at the ceiling.

  In the darkness, Erin smiled. She spoke to the night.

  “Good. This isn’t boring at all.”

  [Innkeeper Level 29!]

  [Skill – Crowd Control Obtained!]

  3.17 T

  This is the story of a skeleton named Toren. He lay on his back, staring at the grey sky. He was a skeleton. This fact was readily apparent to him and anyone who saw him. He was a skeleton.

  And he was free.

  That was all Toren knew. All he understood, really. There had been a time when he was not free, and he had been forced to labor ceaselessly. He hadn’t actually minded most of his duties, in point of fact. Hauling water, cleaning up spilled food and drink—that wasn’t arduous for a skeleton. And Toren had even liked some of his duties which included bossing about a certain annoying Human girl.

  But somehow, even the theoretically limitless patience of a skeleton had been stretched by some of his tasks. Like collecting honey while bees dropped him hundreds of feet out of the air to smash into the ground. Or having to pull—

  Dingle.

  Toren twitched once as he lay on the ground, but other than that he lay still. He had to be still. He kept thinking. Remembering, really.

  Yes, he had been held captive by the orders. But then had come the glorious, wonderful moment when he’d found a way to escape them! He’d left his mistress—his owner—Erin Solstice behind in the snow where she would hopefully get lost forever or starve to death and thus freed himself.

  He was free. If Toren had lips, he might have tried to smile. Since his face was a grinning skull he didn’t have to bother. But that smile would have quickly faded away, again, if Toren had any flesh to move.

  Yes, Toren was free. But so what? What did that mean? Toren had no idea. Now that he was free, what should he do? What was his purpose?

  Ever since Toren had leveled up and become a [Skeleton Knight], all kinds of new thoughts had begun popping up in his head. Some were useful—like the idea to leave Erin behind so she couldn’t order him about. But others just made him confused. He’d never had to wonder about his purpose before.

  Toren was a skeleton. He had been made to fight—at least, to fight in order to protect. But Toren liked fighting. He liked leveling up, so he’d gone out of his way to kill everything he could. And that was good, but was there something else he should be doing?

  He didn’t know. If Toren had lungs he might have sighed. But he didn’t, so the blue flames in his eyes just flickered for a moment as they dimmed. What should he do next? HE couldn’t just lie here forever. Well, he could, but—

  “What’s this?”

  Toren heard a voice and didn’t move. He heard crunching footsteps as someone—two someone’s—walked towards him in the snow. Still, he didn’t move.

  “Dead gods. It looks like an attack! Someone’s killed these two people!”

  “A bandit raid? Are they still nearby, do you think?”

  There was another voice. Toren really didn’t care about the gender of the speakers—if pressed, he might have admitted one sounded male and the other sounded female. He just listened quietly as the two conferred.

  “Might be—but look! They didn’t even make off with the money pouch! Here—”

  “What are you doing? You can’t just take it!”

  “Can’t I? These poor saps aren’t going to use it any time soon, and it’s a lucky find for us. We’ll report the bodies when we get to Celum; that’ll repay the debt.”

  “It’s stealing!”

  “From the dead? If they care so much, let them stop me.”

  Because Toren had no sense of irony, it was only after the man had rummaged around a bit and collected the coin that he stood up. He casually brushed snow off of his bones and walked over to the man and woman engrossed by the two corpses.

  “Hm?”

  The man noticed something and turned around. He turned, saw Toren, and screamed.

  “Skele—”

  Toren beheaded the man with one slash and then turned to the woman. She screamed.

  “Hemlet!”

  Toren paused. Did she mean the man? He was missing his head. Unless he could fight without it like Toren could, the skeleton really doubted yelling his name would do any good.

  Still, wouldn’t that be interesting? Toren stared at the corpse hopefully.

  …Nope. It wasn’t moving. After a few moments he noticed the woman was running. Toren ran after her.

  A fun fact no one cared about was that skeletons were actually light enough to run on the top of the snow if it had a crust. Toren easily caught up to the woman and a few seconds later, he was dragging her body next to the man’s. The blood on his bones and the ground was the only splash of color in the lifeless landscape. That and his eyes, of course.

  He had purple eyes. Or rather, purple flames burning in his eye sockets. Toren thought about that as he carefully buried the two bodies of his latest victims with the others. When he’d first been created, he’d had blue eyes. But after…absorbing a gemstone he’d taken from a certain monster named Skinner, he’d gained the power to inflict [Fear] on people. And his eyes had changed color.

  Toren didn’t mind that part. He would have gladly turned his eyes any color for the [Fear] effect. But it was interesting to him because the skeleton was by and large immortal and unchangeable in most respects.

  He could regenerate. If his bones were separated, they come back together. And even if they were crushed or disintegrated—as they had been once by Corusdeer horns—they would eventually recreate themselves.

  That meant that while Toren was very hard to destroy permanently, few things about his nature could be altered. And yet his eyes had changed.

  The skeleton considered this detail as he washed the blood off of his bones with snow, rendering him yellow-white and practically invisible against the snowy background. He lay down again and kept thinking as he waited.

  He could change. He could be something else. That mattered because…well, because he could level. That was an important thing to Toren. When he leveled, he thought more. And he grew stronger. Both of these things were good. And if he leveled up enough, then maybe one day Erin Solstice wouldn’t be able to order him around at all.

  That was a good thought. Toren liked that idea. He grinned as he lay in the snow, staring at the sky.

  Someday. Someday he’d go back to that inn with a sword. And then he’d left Erin yell and him and boss him around. And then he’d—

  Kill her. Right?

  Toren paused, mid-grin. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Would he kill Erin? It was the logical answer. But really, Toren only wanted to be free of the orders. He only considered Erin’s death as it pertained to her ordering him about. But what if he could ignore the orders? Would he kill her then?

  This was a serious question for the skeleton, and a distressing one! As he thought about it, he realized he didn’t actually know if he would kill or not kill Erin. And that went for all the other people who visited her inn.

  The fact that Toren did not have a would-kill list for every being in the world was very upsetting for the skeleton. He quickly made one up as he waited for someone else to notice the victims he’d killed days ago lying in the snow.

  They were so handy. Toren had killed the first travelers on a small side road and he’d been about to go on his way when he realized they were perfect bait. He’d used them as distractions to ambush a score of other travelers as they passed by. Not for any real purpose; he was fairly sure that this didn’t help him level up that much. It was just a way to pass the time as he thought deep thought.

  It was fun.

  Anyways. A kill list. If Toren had the ability to kill anyone—if he leveled up enough, in short—who would he kill? The idea intrigued him.

  Well, who would he kill first? The bees, obvious
ly. He’d slaughter their entire damn hive. And then after the bees he’d probably kill…Lyonette.

  Yes. Toren’s eyes burned in his sockets. He would enjoy that. She was so annoying, and she’d stopped him from going hunting so many times! Lyonette was second.

  And after her, who would be next? Maybe the girl who Erin talked to often. Ryoka. It wasn’t that the girl was more annoying than the other guests that Erin entertained—it was just that Toren didn’t like her. More specifically, he didn’t like her body. Her bone structure bothered him a bit. Maybe it was her shinbones. They were a tad too long, and Toren just disliked that.

  Hm? Dislike? Had he just thought that?

  Toren sat up in the snow and tapped at his head with one finger. Then he looked around and quickly lay back down.

  Had he really thought that? But yes—now that Toren thought about it, he had things he disliked! That was an…odd thing. Before this moment, Toren had never thought about liking and disliking things. But now he knew there were things in this world he hated.

  Like Ryoka’s shin bones. And Lyonette. And the bees! And anything that went dingle.

  Yes, the bells. Toren added the bells and the sleigh onto his kill list. He’d destroy them too. They might not be alive, but he’d find a way. Maybe he’d melt the bells. And set the sleigh on fire. That felt appropriate to him.

  Toren was enjoying coming up with his kill list. But he paused as another thought hit him, bouncing through his empty cranium and finding whatever part of him was actually doing the thinking.

  If he had something he hated, what did he actually like?

  It was an odd question. But Toren understood the word ‘dislike’, even if he didn’t think of it in actual words. But the idea of ‘dislike’ was that there was an opposite, right? If Toren had something he hated, he had to have something he loved.

  That was a rule. If there was no love, there could be no hatred. If there was no positive to balance out the negative, the world was simply a void of one thing. So Toren had to have a like or his hatred made no sense.