The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Sitting and listening to Dawil, Ksmvr nodded repeatedly as the Dwarf kept talking. He was so focused that he didn’t notice Erin, Jelaqua, Seborn and Ishkr edging away from the Dwarf. Neither did Dawil. The Dwarf kept talking as he drank and ate, loudly proclaiming the virtues of metal for all to hear and managing to slip in several insults about Human and Drake craftsmanship while he was at it.

  —-

  “It looks like Dawil’s started one of his rants about blacksmithing. It will be hours before he stops. For a Dwarf that hates blacksmithing, he enjoys lecturing others about it too much.”

  At another table Falene Skystrall lightly observed her companion as she sipped from a cup of wine and cut into one of Erin’s pre-cooked steaks. She had been pleasantly surprised to find out how many different dishes were on the menu, and more surprised at how fast it had appeared. Now she ate with excellent manners, sitting in her chair across from Ceria. And Pisces.

  The [Necromancer] had invited himself to the table after washing his hands of cake and neither half-Elf had chased him away. Ceria didn’t have the heart for it and Falene didn’t seem to mind. In truth, Ceria was slightly grateful for Pisces’ presence. She felt awkward in the company of another half-Elf after so long.

  Especially since Falene had given her a very traditional, very old-fashioned greeting. She was clearly a traditionalist and she had to be at least eighty years old! True, she looked barely older than her late twenties, but Ceria knew there was a big shift in perspectives depending on the age of a half-Elf. They were half-Human after all, and like Humans, they changed far more rapidly than their distant ancestors had.

  “I hope Dawil doesn’t talk your companion’s ears off.”

  “He doesn’t have ears, so he’ll be fine. I think Ksmvr’s the only person who’d actually enjoy a lecture like that.”

  Ceria grimaced. Falene raised two eyebrows at her, the model of composure. Ceria bit the inside of her lip. Yup, definitely a traditionalist. Falene was the kind of half-Elf who tried to act like she thought true Elves had. That was to say, almost graceful, always elegant, and the voice of logic and reason within any group. You’d never catch her squatting in the bushes after eating something that didn’t agree with her system.

  And she was also a [Mage]. A good one—Ceria could tell that just from sitting next to her. Falene had an air of control and power about her that Ceria hadn’t sensed in anyone since Wistram. Well, Typhenous and Moore were powerful too, but there was something about her magical presence that was familiar…

  “I am surprised to meet a fellow half-Elf so far from Terandria, sister. Especially in the company of one of the Antinium. That is unheard of. It must have been quite a set of coincidences that landed you in each other’s company.”

  Ceria blinked as Falene addressed her. She waited for a beat, and then shrugged.

  “Yeah?”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Half-Elves went places. So did Humans. Falene smiled.

  “I don’t mean to judge. But it is strange—my party has travelled very, very far in search of Ylawes’ sister. We came all the way to Celum to look for her, then took a detour in Esthelm before heading north again…who would have thought all we had to do was go further south to find her?”

  Ceria grunted.

  “You could have spared yourself the trip. There’s a magical door that leads straight from Celum to Liscor. You can walk between the cities whenever you want now.”

  The other half-Elf’s eyebrows shot up and she cast a glance at the door.

  “So that’s what I was sensing from that door. Incredible. I had no idea a magical artifact that powerful had been found. And it’s sitting in an inn? Is this [Innkeeper] that high-level? I didn’t get the impression…”

  She was being chatty with Ceria, as if they were friends. Just because they were of the same species. That bothered Ceria…mainly because it was a very typical half-Elven thing to do. Forget Drakes—half-Elves were notoriously insular. And if you were of the same species, you naturally stuck up for one another.

  But then—they had to. Ceria sighed. She was just being irritable on purpose. After the news about Calruz and—well, it was hard to meet someone who was like you in many respects but more accomplished. She cleared her throat, trying to adopt a more civil tone.

  “No, Erin’s not that high-level, although she’s pretty high. Uh…the door’s there because we gave it to her. My team found it in the Ruins of Albez.”

  “Albez—you’re the famous Horns of Hammerad we’ve heard about?”

  Ceria and Pisces both coughed and looked away as Falene exclaimed. Pisces looked pleased and Ceria felt pleased and embarrassed.

  “That’s us. We got lucky, honestly. We’re a Silver-rank team—hoping to be Gold-rank soon. That door was one of the treasures we obtained you see, and we owe Erin a lot, so it was her take of the treasure…”

  Falene listened with interest to Ceria’s account of the events that had led in them salvaging the door from Albez. Adventurers swapped stories as a matter of course, and Ceria was humble enough not to embellish. Especially because she had heard of the Silver Swords in passing, and they were an actually famous group. Most Gold-rank groups made a name for themselves, although Ceria usually only knew the names. Now she tried to recall any of the Silver Swords’ exploits and failed.

  “I am quite impressed! And from what I can see, your group is rather unusual. Two out of four of your group are [Mages]…it’s usually the case where there’s only a lone [Mage] unless the adventuring team is quite large. I sometimes wish I had another magic user to help guard my companions.”

  The half-Elf sighed and glanced at Ylawes, who was deep in conversation with Yvlon, and Dawil. Ceria glanced at Yvlon—the young woman seemed tense and not quite at ease. Falene noticed her glance.

  “Don’t worry. Ylawes is merely concerned about his sister. When he heard her adventuring group had been destroyed in Liscor’s dungeon he insisted we head south right away. It’s taken us weeks to journey from Invrisil.”

  “That’s some commitment. I guess that’s family for you. But Yvlon seemed determined not to meet him. Do you know why that is?”

  Falene sighed.

  “I think Ylawes is intent on escorting Yvlon back to their home.”

  “Ah.”

  “Oh.”

  Pisces looked up from his cup and glanced at Ylawes before raising his eyebrows at Ceria. She made a face at him—yes, she didn’t want that, but they were family! Falene looked between the two.

  “I’m sure he won’t force her. Or if he does, Dawil and I can talk him out of it. Ylawes is stubborn as a boar, but he can be persuaded. Given time.”

  Ceria nodded at Falene in appreciation.

  “Seems like you’re a good team. That’s surprising. I’d never expect one of us to be travelling with a Dwarf. Given how much they don’t like us—”

  “Bad blood. It’s not as if our animosity is recent. I was more surprised that a Human wanted to journey with me after Terandria. But Ylawes is an excellent leader, and not prejudiced against us in the least. A delightful change from home, wouldn’t you say?”

  Falene glanced at Ceria and the half-Elf nodded reluctantly.

  “Speaking of home…Pisces is from Terandria as well.”

  “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t meant to assume. It’s just that it’s rare to meet Humans who don’t have at least a bit of mistrust of half-Elves. Especially if they’ve grown up in some of the kingdoms…allow me to introduce myself again. I’m a generalist [Mage], although I’ve recently achieved the [Battlemage] specialization in my class.”

  Both of Pisces brows shot up and Ceria sat up a bit in her chair.

  “This is impressive. You have quite the magical flair about you, Miss Falene. May I inquire as to where you studied.”

  The half-Elf laughed.

  “Why, Wistram of course! I graduated from the academy three decades ago. A lifetime by Human standards. But I remember it fondly, and I count m
yself privileged to have studied there. So many [Mages] are powerful, but lack the discipline Wistram provides. That half-Giant for instance. Moore? Such a lovely person, but his aura is unrefined. You two on the other hand…”

  Falene broke off, glancing from Ceria and Pisces.

  “Yes, you two have more focus to your mana flow. Are you students of Wistram, perhaps? Taking a sabbatical? That was all the fashion when I was learning.”

  She couldn’t have known how her words would make Pisces and Ceria tense up. The two [Mages] exchanged a glance, and Ceria saw Pisces’ knuckles grow white on his mug. What should she say? There were so many things she could say that were lies and untruths—but would they hurt less than the truth?

  She didn’t get a chance to decide. Pisces was the one who spoke. The [Necromancer] smiled, a slight glint in his eyes as he nodded at Falene.

  “We are both from Wistram, indeed, Miss Falene. However, you mistake our natures. We are graduates, the two of us.”

  Ceria held her breath as Falene blinked. She looked at Pisces and then at Ceria, and then she smiled.

  “Hm. Are you? In that case, it seems like the standards have lowered quite a bit since when I last attended.”

  Calmly, and quite oblivious to the reaction her words had caused, Falene gently levitated her cup of wine up to her lips and took a sip.

  —-

  “You should have sent word to me immediately when you were injured. I would have come sooner, but there was a situation with a city—Esthelm. And we stopped to help villages along the way…you should have told me. I would have sent gold, hired a carriage to take you north—”

  Ylawes and Yvlon sat at a table in the corner of the inn, removed from the discussions happening elsewhere. The Goblins sat forgotten at their table, watching Ceria and Pisces bristle with interest, their ears perking up as Dawil’s voice droned on. Ylawes ignored them. His only concern was for his little sister.

  As for his little sister, she was not happy. Yvlon stared hard at her brother, trying not to envy the shining silver armor that had given his group their name, the family crest etched proudly on his armor and shield that identified him as a [Knight].

  He was everything she aspired to be. Everything she dreamed of. But he was not who she wanted, not now. And yet here he was. He’d ridden here hundreds of miles to save his younger sister, to champion the weak and innocent. Like he always did. But she was neither weak nor innocent and Yvlon tried to tell her brother that in no uncertain terms.

  “I didn’t tell you because it was my mistake, my weakness that got my team killed, Ylawes. And afterwards, I was adventuring with another team. We had our successes. We found treasure in Albez—”

  “And you were injured for it. Your arms, Yvlon! Silver and steel, I’m glad mother didn’t hear of it! All the family knew was that you’d taken some injury that couldn’t be healed by a potion.”

  Yvlon closed her eyes, remembering the burning heat that had raced up her arms, the pain, the melting and then—

  “Yeah. But I got this injury protecting my team. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “And I’m proud of you for that. But see reason Yv! We have to get you north. There’s bound to be a [Healer] who can help mend your arms.”

  “There isn’t. The metal’s in my bones, Ylawes.”

  “Even so. A [Mage], perhaps? Money’s no expense. I have a small fortune and I’m sure father and mother know many people we could reach out to. We’ll have to wait a while for the Goblin Lord’s army to pass by, but we can send word at once and begin asking—”

  “I’m not going, Ylawes.”

  Ylawes broke off, staring at his sister in disbelief. Yvlon shook her head.

  “I’m not going back home. Not yet. I have too much to do here. I’m in a team!”

  It took her brother a second to find his voice, and when he did, it was angrily.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Yvlon! You can’t fight with those injuries! With your arms the way they are, any prolonged battle will risk you breaking them again. Or worse! One good blow will—”

  “I know that! But so what? I’m not going to be flailing around trading blows with my enemies, Ylawes! I have a sword with the weight enchantment applied to it—a better sword than the one you have! I can fight, even if my arms are weaker than they were. If they break, I’ll heal them—Pisces can repair the bones!”

  Yvlon pointed towards Pisces, neglecting to mention the [Necromancer]’s class. It didn’t matter. Ylawes had changed tactics. His voice was soothing now as he stroked at the stubble on his chin.

  “Of course you’re right to be proud. A magical sword at your age? Father will be so happy when he hears. But be reasonable Yvlon! You should at least have a rest, or visit our estate. A month of rest and we can go adventuring together. I’m sure your companions won’t mind—why not ask them to come with you? There’s sure to be enough requests around our home to—”

  “I said no.”

  Yvlon snapped the word loudly, making heads turn in the mostly empty inn. She tried to calm herself.

  “Ylawes, I appreciate that you were concerned. But—couldn’t you have asked if I was well before coming all this way to help me? I’m a grown woman, and you don’t need to worry about me. Honestly, I’m as fine as anyone is in this profession.”

  The [Knight] looked troubled as he looked at his younger sister.

  “Are you, Yvlon? I had to plot a huge course around the Goblin Lord’s army on the way south, Yvlon. And before that—I clashed with one of his raiding armies. They’d already sacked a city and they were coming back to slaughter all of its inhabitants and turn them into undead. This Goblin Lord’s a true threat, Yvlon. I’d heard the Goblins were dangerous, but using the undead? There was one skeleton I met in Esthelm that—”

  He broke off, shaking his head. Ylawes turned back to Yvlon.

  “I can only hope the army being assembled to the north will be enough to destroy the Goblin Lord and his army completely. I would have ridden myself in answer to Lord Tyrion’s call, but father sent enough forces from our household that will do. I hope. But that just proves my point. You’re in more danger around Liscor—there are Antinium here! Have you any idea what—”

  He hadn’t realized Ksmvr was in her party. Yvlon closed her eyes, and then part of what Ylawes had said struck her like lightning. She sat up, cutting her brother off.

  “Wait a second, we sent aid to Lord Tyrion? But Lady Magnolia was levying all the city-states around Invrisil!”

  Ylawes frowned.

  “You hadn’t heard? Lady Reinhart sent out a levy, true, but Lord Tyrion did the same. We sent reinforcements to him—as many [Soldiers] and [Guards] as father thought we could afford.”

  Yvlon stared at her brother in horror.

  “What? Not to Lady Magnolia? Ylawes, House Byres has always supported the Reinharts! Aunt Magnolia is a close friend of mother’s!”

  “I know.”

  “So why—”

  It wasn’t so much what Ylawes said as the way he said it. His gaze shifted and he didn’t exactly meet Yvlon’s eyes as he spoke. She sat, heart pounding as he replied softly.

  “Recent events have called her authority into question. There were several assassinations—of [Ladies] tied to Magnolia no less! Father was worried that…well, it doesn’t matter. Lord Tyrion’s levy on the city-states came at the same time as Lady Magnolia’s. So we answered his call while a smaller group was sent to Lady Reinhart. She will have an army, but it will be Lord Tyrion’s that sweeps the Goblins away. Or so father thinks.”

  “What? But that would mean you’re supporting Lord Tyrion. While Aunt Magnolia…”

  “It’s just strategy, Yvlon. Lady Magnolia did not request for any [Lord] or any [Generals] to lead the army she’s assembling, and she’s no leader herself. Without a high-level commander, her army doesn’t stand a chance. She could hold Invrisil I suppose, but Lord Tyrion is one of our best war leaders. Moreover, he has his own personal army a
nd is creating a vastly superior force to Lady Reinharts’.”

  That was true. Lord Tyrion was a famous [Lord]. And yet, he was at odds with Magnolia Reinhart, and she was one of the most powerful figures on Izril! If she wanted an army, she could raise one. Yvlon stared at Ylawes.

  “But Magnolia is clearly trying to challenge the Goblin Lord. Otherwise, why would she assemble an army?”

  “I don’t know. For defense, perhaps. All of the forces she requested are assembling just west of Invrisil by all accounts. I suspect that the officers of each unit will withdraw around Invrisil to protect it if the Goblin Lord tries to take the city. They’ll protect the citizens.”

  “And if Aunt Magnolia orders them to attack the Goblin Lord?”

  Ylawes still didn’t meet Yvlon’s eyes. He traced on the table with a gauntleted finger.

  “I…suspect they will politely refuse her request.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed. Ylawes looked away.

  “It’s not a lack of faith in her, Yvlon. It’s just…strategy. Magnolia Reinhart will have to be reasonable and see sense. She can’t ask the impossible. No one can.”

  He said that, but Yvlon knew otherwise. The Reinharts—Magnolia in particular—were not known for being ‘reasonable’ about anything. They got their way. And if they didn’t, what did that say about the political situation in Izril? About the influence of the Reinharts, of Lady Magnolia?

  It was all too big. Too far. Yvlon shook her head, putting distant conflicts with other nobles and the Goblin Lord out of her head. She looked at Ylawes.