The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “That’s the head taken care of your majesty. What’s the next bit?”

  “Next bit? Uh…”

  There’s a lot of totem pole to go. I frown, thinking on the go.

  “How about some fancy symbols below it? You could do a—a hawk. And a village, maybe? And then you write on it sideways—‘Claimed by Emperor Laken Godart’. How about that?”

  Jelov’s busy drawing in the dirt. When he’s done, I stare at the plans for a totem pole practically covered by ‘fancy occult stuff’ that has the old man rubbing his hands together in glee. I smile.

  “Add whatever you think might be good. Maybe carve it so it’s not just a rectangle of wood? I’ll leave it to you, but when you have the final design, show it to me. I’ll…need quite a few once we have the design set.”

  “At once, your [Emperor]-ness! I’ll uh, need a piece of wood—”

  “I’ll have Prost get some to you right away. And helpers if you need it, but for now the pole?”

  “At once! Don’t you worry milord, I’ll have the pole ready to show you tomorrow. Let me just find my best knife—have to cut with the best tools I say. Have you met my daughter? Want to show her the trade, by your lord’s leave of course. A natural. Woodworking’s in the family blood. You’ll see—it’ll be my finest work, my word on it. Won’t let you down. I recall one time I did a piece—”

  Somehow, I get away from Jelov and by the time I do, the village is bustling with activity. Prost is in the thick of it, and I find myself talking with people, reassuring them, pointing out my adventurers and…being an [Emperor], I guess. I have an answer for every trivial problem, which isn’t hard, but I’m doing it and everyone’s watching, which is apparently all they need.

  The sun has set by the time I have a bowl of hot soup in my hands and am eating it standing up. I’m exhausted from talking, but I have time for one last person who approaches me on horseback.

  “What news, Beniar?”

  The adventurer and captain of the Windfrozen Riders ducks his head towards me, for once not showering me with compliments or praising himself. He sounds grim, and a bit worried.

  “Trouble, your majesty. Windrest was mostly devastated, but it’s hardly the only village. I met a group of travelers on the road heading straight for Invrisil—they say their village was attacked and torched. The Goblins took everything and slaughtered everyone they caught. They’re killing this time, not just raiding.”

  I feel coldness inside my heart. Goblins. I nod to the village.

  “Do you think they’ll come here?”

  “Unless they get what they want, it’s a surety, sire. We’ll double our patrols, but I’d be more comforted if I knew how many Goblins might come our way. We can handle Hobgoblins, a large band, even a Goblin [Shaman] if one of those bastards is hiding among them. But Goblins can come at any time, from anywhere. That’s what makes them dangerous.”

  “I understand. And I have a plan to deal with that, Beniar.”

  “Do you, your majesty?”

  He sounds skeptical. I just smile at him.

  “Trust me.”

  He hesitates. I can hear him getting off his horse, and then shouting for some soup for himself and fodder for his mount.

  “For some reason, I do your majesty. Emperor Laken.”

  “Oh?”

  I’m a bit uncomfortable with Emperor Laken, but it is who I am. And Beniar seems to think so too. I sense him nodding towards the villagers.

  “I’ve never seen a [Lord] shaking common folk’s hands before, much less an [Emperor]. It gives them hope. I…I’m glad you care about villagers, sire. I was one once, too.”

  “Villagers. Lords. We’re all people, Beniar.”

  He laughs shortly.

  “Yeah, but you’d not see a [Lord] care so for common folk.”

  “Really? Then—here.”

  I hold one of my hands out to Beniar while I cradle the hot soup bowl with the other. He stares at it. I waggle my fingers impatiently.

  “Go on, shake it.”

  He does, tentatively. I smile at him and take another hot spoonful of soup.

  “Well? How does it feel? You’ve just shaken hands with an [Emperor]. I’m no [Lord], Beniar. I’m better than that. I care about all of my subjects. And I’ll protect them no matter what.”

  He stares at me.

  “Does that include us, sire? Me and my riders?”

  “I’ve hired you. While you work for me, I’ll do my best to make sure you’re as safe as anyone else.”

  “That’s reassuring to hear, your majesty.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Let’s work hard to make sure I’m not made into a liar, Beniar.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  [Emperor Level 10!]

  [Skill – Empire: Low-born Militias Obtained!]

  [Skill – Rallying Presence Obtained!]

  “…Is there an instruction manual or something?”

  “Whuzzat, Laken?”

  “Nothing, Durene.”

  Day 62

  People skills. That’s all being an [Emperor] is. People skills. Or is it more like a video game about allocating resources? My job as an [Emperor] is not to manage the details of what I do—I have Prost, Helm, and the other older villagers to take that duty off of me. I look at the grand scheme, give broad orders, deal with situations—

  And make sure people do what’s most effective. Which is why Beniar’s enthusiasm can be a problem.

  “Give us the order, and we’ll bring back enough game to feed the village, sire! My team can cover countless miles and be back by the end of the day!”

  Beniar seems determined to be of help the next day, but in an odd way. He’s offered to hunt, and I admit, having a food source might be just the thing now that we have far more mouths to feed than I had projected for. Prost calculates that we have enough supplies to last for a month, but not through till spring anymore.

  Still, I shake my head as I talk with Beniar and the other adventurers in the morning.

  “I’d rather have your people patrolling. A few hunters might be acceptable Beniar, but your riders need to patrol.”

  “As you say, sire.”

  He’s disappointed, but his idea is solid. I turn to Odveig and Wiskeria.

  “Do you think you could hunt with your group, Odveig? Wiskeria? If the Windfrozen Riders patrolled, I think we could spare the Celestial Trackers.”

  They’re not a mounted group, so the idea seems fine to me. Wiskeria voices her agreement immediately.

  “We could send several groups out, sire. There are trails of deer and other animals we picked up—”

  It’s Odveig who interrupts her, shaking her head adamantly.

  “Not a good idea, Wiskeria. I think we’ll keep our group here by your leave, your majesty. There could be trouble and I’d hate to fail our contract if we don’t keep you safe from all dangers.”

  She frowns at Wiskeria and I frown too. But Odveig is the leader and she makes sense. The Mossbear could wake up, or something else could happen.

  “If you’re sure. In that case Beniar, I’ll let you take three of your riders and hunt…the rest will spread out with the Celestial Trackers nearby…”

  Every day has a challenge. Today’s is rats. Apparently, the new ground Prost is trying to dig up has rats.

  In the winter.

  “How are there rats, Mister Prost?”

  I walk around the edge of the new village boundary. I can vaguely sense this place, mainly because the villagers are laying down the foundations of the new houses as we speak. Prost grimaces.

  “The little devils have to make their burrows somewhere, Emperor Laken.”

  “Yes, but…what do they eat? How can they survive?”

  “There’s root stores in the ground, and the rodents prey on our fields. I reckon there’s a few burrows here—they’ll infest the houses and cause a mess if we can’t get rid of them first.”

  “Right…how do we do that?”


  Prost sighs, sounding vexed.

  “Only way is to dig up all the ground about here with pitchforks and kill the damned vermin as they come out.”

  I frown.

  “That sounds like it’ll take a lot of time and effort we don’t want to spare.”

  “Yes sire, but it’s the only way. We don’t know where they could be hiding—”

  Wait. I frown as Prost says that. Rats, hiding in the ground? I feel like…I feel like I might be able to solve this one. I cut Prost off and stare at the ground. This area is mine. Vaguely mine. And I can sense what goes on in the ground, can’t I? I saved the villagers that way. So why can’t I look—

  Down.

  My senses go beneath the earth. I sense thick, rich loam beneath my feet, roots—the remains of a grass stalk and its system. And across from me—two feet down, a tunnel network. Something moves in it. Big, furry, chewing at a bug that wriggles through the soil—

  “Emperor Laken? Sire?”

  A hand touches my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin. I start, look around. Prost is staring at me with concern in his eyes. I blink at him, and then grin weakly.

  “Mister Prost, I think I can solve our problems. But we’ll need a way to kill the rats when they come up. Unless you’re planning on stomping the rats to death or hacking them apart?”

  I don’t think I could stand to see that. But Prost only smiles.

  “No sire, we’ve a time and tested way to deal with that!”

  “Oh?”

  —-

  Dogs. Eight dogs of varying shapes and colors snuffle around my feet and sniff me, wagging their tails as they circle around Prost and a group of [Farmers] with shovels and pitchforks. I watch as Prost sticks his pitchfork into the loose, frozen earth that’s been broken up and lift it with a grunt.

  Something squeaks. I recoil, and the dogs go nuts as a group of rats unearthed by the pitchfork flee. The dogs growl and run down the rodents in moments. The [Farmers] cheer them on, whistling as they unearth more rats which the dogs hunt down with almost contemptuous ease.

  Terriers. The world’s finest ratters. Of course, that’s what they were bred for, back when they weren’t just pets but companions. I feel stupid for not thinking of it, but I’m both gratified and entertained to see the dogs in their elements. They clearly love to hunt down the rat nests which I can pinpoint with ease.

  That’s right. Just like the villagers trapped under the snow, I can see under the ground. And that means I can see every rat that’s infested the fields we’re trying to turn into a new area for houses.

  It feels almost dirty to have this ability. And I have to say, when Prost’s pitchfork comes up with a tiny impaled rat on it, still squeaking and struggling I feel awful. But they are rats. They’ll destroy a field and breed until they start eating each other given half a chance, and Prost and the other farmers clearly hate them with a passion.

  “Damned fine work, your majesty!”

  One of the farmers shouts at me, earning a jab from his friends for swearing, but I only grin and wave at him. This is one of the cases where my [Emperor] talents really help the villagers in a concrete way. I wonder if all [Emperors] can see their lands like I do. Am I just attuned to these senses more than others because I’m blind?

  Ah, well, I can’t tell.

  I hear a squawk as another group of rats makes it to the surface to be pounced upon by the dogs the villagers of Windrest brought with them. I look over and hear fluttering wings.

  “Frostwing giving you trouble, Gamel?”

  “I think she wishes to join in the hunt, sire.”

  Gamel struggles with my pet bird. Frostwing’s bigger than ever and antsy at being cooped up in Durene’s cottage all day, so I’ve asked Gamel to bring her with me when I walk around the village. It might have been a mistake. Frostwing is struggling as she perches on his arm—he has to wear a cloth armguard to keep her talons from puncturing his skin.

  “Calm down, Frostwing.”

  She shuts up for a second, and I can sense her head turning to glare at me. I nod to Prost.

  “Here’s another nest.”

  I tap the ground and the man comes over and sticks his pitchfork in the dirt. The dogs tense and he heaves—rats go flying.

  Frostwing shrieks as the rats run about. I hear Gamel struggling to keep the bird steady on his arm as she flaps wildly. Then her wings open. She launches herself from his arm.

  She flies.

  Five feet. Frostwing smacks into a rat as it tries to scurry away from one of the dogs. She knocks the rodent aside and then hops towards it, wings spread aggressively. I see Prost yanking one of the excited dogs back as Frostwing pecks at the large rat with her sharp beak. It tries to flee and she hops right after it.

  There have been epic battles waged in the name of survival between different animal groups. The duel between the lone rat and the fledgling Frostwing is not one of them. She pecks at the rat and the rat tries to run. Frostwing pursues, hopping rather than flying, and I give her a bit of assistance, blocking the rat with my foot.

  Hop, peck. Hop, peck. In the end Frostwing downs the rat, but I have to say, she does not deserve the sense of satisfied pride I feel from her in my mind. As my bird savages the rat she’s killed and begins to disembowel it, I kneel by her side.

  “Who’s a good bird? You are. You’re a good bird. Even if you are fairly bad at your job.”

  She pecks at me with a bloody beak, and then flares her wings aggressively as one of the villager’s dogs sniffs near her. It retreats, whining, and I decide to pick Frostwing up before she can cause trouble. She agrees to perch on my arm only after grabbing her kill in one talon. On the way back to the cottage she drops the rat. Twice. Nothing would do but I let her grab it again.

  Ah, birds. They’re quite stupid. Dumber than dogs at times, which I’ll admit is difficult. But I love mine even so.

  —-

  “Emperor Laken! Your majesty, I have your pole of totems! Here! Won’t you inspect it?”

  At the end of the day Jelov comes to me with a finished pole, just as he’s promised. I inspect the pole with my hands, running my fingertips along the carvings, and feeling the deep-cut symbols in the wood. I get a splinter. Twice.

  “It’s not smoothed yet, and there’s work to be done rounding and varnishing, but if you’re satisfied, I can copy the design onto however many poles you want, sire!”

  “That will be excellent, Jelov. You’re a fine craftsman.”

  “Thank you, your majesty!”

  He beams. I wonder whether anyone else in the world has ever been so happy to have their work praised by a blind man. But this new totem pole has caught people’s imaginations. Certainly Durene’s.

  “It’s so creepy, Laken! Are you sure you have to have the floating eye-thing? I keep thinking it’s staring at me and Jelov’s carved it onto all four sides, so it’s staring at you no matter where you’re facing!”

  “It’s important because it’s a marker, Durene. The symbol marks who I am. Okay, maybe it was a mistake to make it the Eye of Providence, but—”

  “Oh, if it’s a symbol, that’s fine. I was worried it’d be on our flag or something!”

  I have to laugh as I sit next to her.

  “Flag? Our flag? What are you talking about?”

  Durene turns to me, surprised, as she munches on some fresh bread that Prost’s wife, Yesel baked in one of the ovens we uncovered this morning.

  “Well, we’re obviously going to have a flag. This is your empire, right? Our empire, I mean. You’re going to rule us so we’ve got to have a flag! And a name! I think the Unseen Empire sounds cool, don’t you?”

  The question throws me completely for a second. An empire? I suppose that is the logical step, but I’ve just seen what I’m doing as managing a village. But Durene’s already talking about it as if it’s an empire. I try to quell the uneasiness her words provoke with a slight joke.

  “We’re far away from an empire, Durene.
We’re just a village—”

  “Two villages, now.”

  “True. But the people of Windrest are just staying here because they’re afraid. Once the Goblins are gone—”

  “They’ll still be your subjects. They said so.”

  “Who did?”

  “The people of Windrest, silly! You promised to keep them safe, remember? It’s as good as being protected by a [Lord], they say, only you’re real. I don’t think they’d go anywhere even if the Goblins were gone.”

  The statement leaves me flabbergasted. Silent. Durene chews happily.

  “Want some bread? It’s really good and doughy, the way I like it! Laken? Hello? Laken?”

  [Beast Tamer Level 5!]

  Day 63

  The reports of Goblin attacks continue. Beniar brings in two travelers on the road who say their caravan has been attacked by Goblins, a group of well-armed ones that looted their wagons and slaughtered their guards in a moment. I take them into the village. What am I supposed to do?

  The situation with the Goblin incursions is clearly getting worse. I have an impromptu meeting with Beniar, Odveig, Prost, and Wiskeria and come to a quick decision.

  “Train them.”

  “Who?”

  “Anyone who wants to be trained. My village needs soldiers to protect it, and not just your adventurers.”

  I rest my hands on the table and stare at Beniar, Odveig, and Wiskeria. They sound uncertain, but my mind’s made up. Odveig coughs.

  “Begging your pardon sire, but we’re adventurers, not instructors. We can teach basic swordplay and fighting skills I suppose, but—but we can’t lead a group. And it’ll take weeks to make proper warriors out of most of this lot!”

  “You don’t have to worry. I have a…Skill that might help matters.”

  I grin at Odveig. I gained the [Empire: Low-born Militias] skill two days ago and I’ve been wondering what it does. I can’t help but suspect it would grant my subjects some combat prowess on the field. As for [Rallying Presence]—I can’t help but feel that’s one of the reasons why Windrest’s villagers have grown to trust me so quickly.