The presence of people nearby was comforting, helping Aiden calm down and catch his breath. Recovering from the intense dream was second-nature to him these days, even if the initial moment of waking was terrifying. Pacian was snoring loudly, so Aiden slowly arose from the bed, put on his boots and moved quietly out the door without waking him.
The polished wooden halls of the inn were freezing cold, so he headed straight for the common room and its huge fireplace. When he entered, Aiden was somewhat startled to see the scattered remains of several chairs and last night’s patrons sprawled haphazardly around the room.
Curiously, a few locals were enjoying their breakfast amid the destruction as if nothing were amiss. Seeking to fit into this strange new culture, Aiden moved towards the bar, picking his way carefully through the comatose patrons so as not to step on any delicate areas. The bartender this morning was a plump young woman wearing a frilly red dress and a rosy-cheeked smile.
“Morning young master,” she greeted Aiden as he sat down on an unoccupied and still intact stool. “Can I get you something?”
“A plate of whatever you have for breakfast,” he ordered. “Is this a regular occurrence?”
“Breakfast?” she asked, seeming confused. “Happens around about this time every morning, last time I checked.”
“Ha, yes, actually I was referring to the wreckage,” Aiden clarified.
“Oh that,” she nodded, as if she hadn't noticed current contents of the common room. “Maybe once a week, depending on how long some crews have been at sea.” A reflective look crossed her cherubic features. “Not sure what started this fight though. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves for most of the evening.”
“I noticed they’re still lying on your floor and haven't been arrested,” Aiden remarked.
“The guards have got better things to be doing than throwing these lads into gaol,” she smiled knowingly in reply. “They gave up trying to keep the peace in this place a few weeks ago. But that's fine, the boys are only hurting' themselves. Anyway, let me get you something to eat, handsome.”
Aiden turned to lean back against the bar while he looked with amusement at a few of the locals slowly rising like the dead from the grave, groaning and clutching their heads. From amongst the wreckage of a table, a familiar figure emerged. Aiden cracked a grin when he saw it was Colt, beaten and bloodied but still in one piece.
“That'll show the bastards,” the big man croaked, shambling towards the stairs, completely oblivious to Aiden's presence.
When his plate of food arrived, he focusing on his meal and thought briefly about the close proximity of the old dwarven city of Ferrumgaard, only a few days travel west from Culdeny. The place must have been looted many times in the last century, especially being so close to a major human settlement. Part of him still hoped the strange artefact he sought was buried somewhere in its depths.
The alternative was that the place was so dangerous nobody had gone near it since its fall. If that was the case, then it would be a grave risk to even attempt to explore it.
“I’m looking for some information,” he quietly asked of the cherubic girl, pushing a silver noble towards her on the counter. “Do you know anyone familiar with the old city of Ferrumgaard?” The woman took the silver piece and appeared thoughtful. Before she could answer, a short, bearded man sitting a little further along the bar spoke up.
“Sorry but I couldn't help but overhear. Yer wantin’ to know more about Ferrumgaard? I can help ye out with that.”
“Yes, that man right there,” the bartender pointed, quickly pocketing the coin, and looking as innocent as she could manage. “Glad to help you out, I'll be out the back cleaning if you need me.” Before Aiden could protest, she was already scurrying through the door to the kitchens. The short man laughed.
“Typical woman, takes a man's money then runs off,” he chortled. “But ya didn't wants to hear about women now, did ya lad. Nay, it's Ferrumgaard what’s on yer mind, and I'll tell ya what you want to know. The name's Clavis MacAliese.”
“Aiden Wainwright. Good to meet you,” Aiden said, getting off his stool and moving over to shake the man's hand firmly.
“So Aiden, what's yer interest in the fallen city of Ferrumgaard?” Clavis continued, sipping ale from a large tankard. “Nobody goes there and returns the same y’know. Changes a man - makes him see his own mortality.”
“I have an interest in the historical aspects of the place,” Aiden carefully explained. “Specifically, some research that was being done before the unfortunate events took place. Tell me, how familiar are you with the layout of the old city?”
“I'm well acquainted,” Clavis assured him, “having lived there as a lad. Also, I visited there not two years ago on me own little expedition. Didn't make it past the third level, afore I ran into some difficulties, but ya won't find anyone more qualified to guide ya through the depths of ol' Ferrumgaard than I.” Aiden gave him a doubtful look.
“Wait a moment, you said you were there as a 'lad'? That was a century ago.”
“That surprises ya?” Clavis chuckled and wiped the foam from his beard. “I'm a hundred and twenty-three years old, I'll have ye know. We clansmen are long lived compared to you longshanks.”
“Oh you're dwarven,” Aiden exclaimed, suddenly making the connection. He glanced down at Clavis's feet, and noticed they were much higher off the ground than his own. “Sorry about that sir, I haven't met one of your kind before. I was expecting something... shorter.”
“This must be a real thrill for ya,” Clavis joked, drawing a short laugh from Aiden.
“So you mentioned running into some difficulty,” he pressed, keeping the conversation on topic. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, ya know, an ancient underground city and all. Not exactly in the best condition. Ran into a few collapsed sections that slowed down the expedition. We were just about done cuttin’ through the rock, when we ran out o’ supplies, so had to turn back. It won't be a problem lad, if that's what yer thinking. So long as we've got enough provisions, that rock fall won't be an issue this time.”
“Interesting,” Aiden replied thoughtfully. “If I might ask, what's your interest in the old city?”
“I'm looking fer a family heirloom that was lost during the fall,” he explained. “Much was left behind on that fateful day, most of it in the lower sections o’ the city. It'd be good to bring it back and return it to Stonegaard, where it should be.”
“That’s your new mountain home, yes?” Aiden confirmed, receiving a nod from Clavis. “I think our goals might be compatible. I'll have to talk it over with my companions, who may or may not wish to join in.”
“Oh ye've got some friends? That's even better. I thought it was just gonna be you and me, lad.”
“Well, as I said, I haven't asked them yet so I'll have to get back to you a bit later,” Aiden reiterated. “Are you in a rush to set out?”
“Well, I'd like to get movin’ in the next few days,” Clavis replied, tugging his beard thoughtfully. “But truth be told, I haven't been able to find anyone else interested in me little underground expedition besides yerself, so I'm thinkin' I'll be available for the next month, if nobody else comes along. Still, I'd like an answer in the next few days if ya could lad, just out o' politeness.”
“I am nothing if not polite,” Aiden assured him. “I'll probably get back to you by tomorrow if all goes well, as I have a few things to attend to. Also, I can be very lazy.” Clavis roared with laughter.
“Yer all right longshanks, I'll be here, as I have been for the past week, when yer ready to talk some more.”
“Wait, were you here through last night's brawl?” Aiden asked as he was about to leave.
“Of course,” Clavis replied, quaffing his drink. “I would'na miss a good brawl.”
“How is it you're not injured? Everyone else here looks like they've been through a war.”
“A good bar fight takes practice lad, and I've had
a few extra decades to learn a trick or two,” Clavis explained with a wink. “Not that I go around starting fights mind you, I just tend to be the one that finishes 'em.”
“Did you finish this one?”
“Surely did,” the dwarf assured him. “Laid out some oversized drunkard in camouflage leathers who started questioning the lineage of some of these rowdy seafaring folk. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” Aiden replied, struggling to keep a straight face as he thought of Colt. He was heading towards the front door of the Seaspray Inn when Nellise and Pacian appeared, walking down the stairs.
“Good morning,” she greeted him. “I'm going to head over to speak briefly with the mayor. You two get some breakfast and bathe, and I'll meet up with you later. I have something I want to talk to you about.”
They parted ways and after his bath, Aiden did feel a lot better, as if he'd washed away much of the turmoil he had experienced over the past few days. He didn’t linger on thoughts of their recent altercations, though the look on the face of the first man he’d killed would probably haunt him for the rest of his days. Once he was done with the bath he followed Nellise's advice and bought some new clothes, then re-joined the ladies on the street a little while later.
They expressed approval of his neater appearance as Aiden fell into step with them on their way to the mayoral offices. Nellise guided them toward a huge, elegant building in the crowded market area of the town, an old mansion that had been converted into an office. It dominated the town square, and was easily the most expensive building Aiden had ever seen. There were signs of recent work on the house, and it positively gleamed in a town full of plain, homespun accommodation.
“I guess someone has money to throw around,” Aiden observed dryly, a little disgusted at the garish display of riches.
“Were you expecting a nobleman to be modest with his wealth?” Nellise asked of him. “At least he’s spending his money around town. He is no better or worse than the rest, though I still find dealings with all people of means to be a little distasteful. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Without further delay, they strode up the stairs and walked inside.
Chapter Seven
Two guards standing just inside the doors scrutinised them carefully as Aiden and the two girls went past. A long hallway lined with paintings and plush chairs led to a pair of finely gilded double-doors, open to reveal a large room beyond. Judging by the colourful language coming from within, the mayor probably wasn't aware he could be overheard.
There were several people in the hallway awaiting their time to speak with the head of the town, some of them ranking members of the town guard who appeared to be unshaven and tired. Among them, much to Aiden’s surprise was Colt, sitting in one of the chairs, right next to the doorway. Feeling self-conscious, Aiden quickly led his two companions past other waiting people before they could protest.
The big ranger was slumped in his comfortable chair, still looking hung-over from last night's ‘entertainment’. He glanced up briefly as Aiden stopped in front of him, and then continued looking down at the floor, shielding his eyes with the raised hood on his cloak.
“You tryin' to cut line?” he said, voice grating. Aiden was sure he didn't intend to sound mean and dangerous, the words were simply coming out that way.
“That depends on what you're doing here,” he replied. “Truth be told, I was expecting you to be asleep right now.”
“I got sleep last night,” Colt corrected him.
“On the floor of the common room?”
“You'd be surprised how comfortable a pile of fat drunks can be. And to answer your question, I'm here to speak with His Mayorship, probably same as you're doing.”
“Looking like that?” Nellise asked, amused and shocked at the same time.
“I'm a ranger, we're expected to be covered in muck.”
“I was referring to your bruised and bloodied face actually.”
“I figure it'll help back up my claim that it's getting rough out there,” Colt said with a shrug. “Assuming he doesn't faint at the sight of blood, of course.”
“Well, we're coming in with you then. We're with him,” Aiden added for the benefit of a scowling farmer sitting next in line from the ranger. There were no spare seats for them, so they stood in the middle of the hallway and awaited their turn.
“Bugger this,” Colt eventually grunted and stepped into the mayor's office. Shrugging, Aiden followed along cautiously, wondering how long it would take for the guards to be called. An officious little man was standing close to the door and quickly moved to block their entrance.
“You must wait your turn, sir!” he complained. “The mayor is a terribly busy man, and it would be unseemly of you to barge in. I demand you withdraw at once.” Colt didn't reply, instead focusing his attention on the pair of gentlemen behind the little man. One of them was large, balding, and dressed in a gold-embroidered blue longcoat, with a large upstanding collar, who appeared to be talking to an old farmer.
“I'm sorry sir,” the official apologised to the mayor. “They just barged in, I couldn't stop them. Shall I call the guards?” The mayor gave them all an irritated look.
“No, I enjoy hoards of unwashed peasantry tramping through my office. The four of you had better offer up a good reason for this intrusion.”
“My apologies to you sir, and you, Your Honour,” Nellise spoke just as Colt was opening his mouth. “This is an important matter regarding security on the highway to the south.” The mayor looked at her for a few moments, and then nodded to his associate.
“You may speak, madam, if only to give me a brief respite from these damnable common folks.” The small official bowed and quickly ushered the surprised old farmer out of the chamber.
“Mister Colt and er... party, Mayor Buchanan will see you now,” the official declared lamely. He struck Aiden as the sort of person who took his unremarkable job very seriously.
“'Mister Colt?'” Nellise remarked quietly. “I thought 'Colt' was your first name.”
“What kind of a first name is 'Colt'?”
“That's what I said to myself when I first met you,” she responded lightly.
“I do apologise if I am interrupting but will you kindly get to the point,” the mayor almost shouted.
“A small matter, Your Honour,” Aiden began, his tone carefully deferential. “Mayor Olaf of Bracksford requests additional soldiers for his garrison. There is an imminent threat of akoran raiders moving up from the south, and he feels they do not have the -”
“No, he cannot have any troops,” Buchanan interrupted impatiently. Then he leaned over and shouted down the corridor. “Neither can any of you! I can spare no further men-at-arms for outlying villages, so you parasites can scuttle back to where you came from!” A collective groan went up from more than half of the assembled men and women, as they tiredly rose from their seats and shuffled out of the door. Nellise wasn't impressed.
“That was rather cruel don't you think? Those people came here expecting help from you, sir.”
Buchanan straightened his expensive coat and stood tall. “You may think of me as you wish madam, but my first duty is to this town and the people within her walls. Better that a few suffer, so the greater number remain safe. Olaf will have to make do with what he has. If he feels the quantity of his garrison is inadequate, he can easily draft local civilians into the militia to bolster his defences. Now, there is nothing further I can do for you, so if you are quite finished...” He gestured expansively toward the exit.
Aiden looked to Nellise for anything she might want to add, but she responded with an exasperated shrug.
“No, I think we're done here,” Aiden said evenly, turning and walking out the doors. The others followed closely behind, remaining silent until they were some distance from the mayoral building.
“Arrogant ass,” Colt spat. “No band of outlaws or akoran raiders is going to attack a town the size of Culdeny. He could easily have sent a dozen men s
outh.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Nellise countered. “He is the one responsible if anything goes wrong, so if he sent reinforcements elsewhere and Culdeny did come under attack, the mayor is the one who will be blamed.”
“The same holds true if he doesn't send soldiers to help Bracksford and they do come under attack,” Aiden added. “The poor bastard probably doesn't know what to do, no matter what happens, he's going to get blamed.”
“That would probably explain his disposition,” Nellise mused. “Tell me Sayana, you are of the akoran people are you not? Would they really attack an entire town?” The wild girl didn't answer right away, but Aiden couldn't tell if she was thinking or merely uncomfortable with the question.
“I can't really answer that accurately,” she replied eventually. “But I can tell you there are many cruel men amongst the population who would eagerly start a war in the name of glory and plunder. So yes, I believe they are a grave threat.”
“Wonderful,” Aiden grumbled. “As if we didn't have enough to deal with at the moment.
“Damn this sun is bright, not used to such clear skies,” Colt muttered, pulling his hood up to cover his eyes.
“I think it's probably more the hangover, than the sun,” Nellise chided. “I should check in at the church and inform them of recent developments.”
“Fair enough,” Aiden said. “I have something else I want to talk to you all about as soon as we get back to the inn. I have a job that needs doing and I'd really like your help, if you're willing.”
“What is it?” Sayana asked curiously.
“It's a long story, I'll tell you about it over lunch.” So they made their way along the cobblestone streets, passing merchants hawking their wares and the local citizenry going about their daily affairs. The rare sunny day brightened their spirits as they breathed in the tang of sea air. It was still quite cold, in spite of the cloud-free sky, but it was nevertheless a welcome respite from the unrelenting rain in the south. Without warning, Pacian materialised from the crowd just to Aiden's right, giving him quite a start.
Nature Abhors a Vacuum (The Aielund Saga Book 1) Page 10