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thymepasses-blog · 7 years ago

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Heat and light flooded into the street as the heavy oak door swung open. In the bright tavern, only the sweating obsidian colored windows remained untouched by the swelling fire.

“Close the door, you’re upsetting the hearth!” A young girl of naught more than 12 years stood at the bar, lifting a tray of pewter cups “Sit anywhere you like. If you need lodging, my father can help you.”

Dripping audibly the trio looked around. Ansil made a beeline towards the fire. Avoiding the eyes of the other patrons, the remaining duo settled around a table across from her. Neither felt compelled to retrieve nor join Ansil - their journey had thus far been wrought with unnecessary complications and its first fatality.

“Bring us three pints and a Sheppard’s pie.”

“Would you like some of the roast?” the young bar keep’s disposition matched the tavern. Ingrid, lifted her head from the table to look at the pig, slowly turning beside the fireplace, only to put her head down again.

“We would rather not. We’ve had a hard day and would be much obliged if we could be with ourselves for a moment.” Smile fading, the girl nodded and whisked out of sight.

“Mathias, speak for yourself! I would have liked some roast,” Ansil had left the fireside and seated herself facing to the fire. Ingrid made a slight gaging sound.

“I can hardly stand the smell. How can you think about eating at a time like this?”

“Exactly! I’m starving! We’re all starving! I couldn’t ask for a better change of fate!”

“Ansil,” Mathias accepted the pie and tankards, “I realize you’re feeling upbeat - but we just watched Bray incinerate himself. It’s too soon for us.”

“He would have wanted us to drink heartily to his memory!” Ansil slammed her fist on the table, “He was never one to give up!”

“Nor did not know his own limits or think ahead. He died because he was dry as tinder and tried to ‘roast’ the wolf pack rather than avoid it. They burnt to a crisp in the snow. I did not see the danger he presented himself when we accepted him into our party.” Mathias said firmly after a long draught, “Without a mage we almost froze to death in the blizzard. Ingrid?”

The silent member still sat, face down at the edge of the table with her hands in her hair. Though her skin began to flush a weathered red, her knuckles had grown paler, “I couldn’t save him. We were surrounded by trapped water and yet I could not save him.”

Ansil’s now anxious gaze shifted back to Mathias. They sat in silence.

“Ingrid, there was nothing we could do. If it helps, we can stay here until the end of the blizzard and recover his body for burial. We wouldn’t have made it if we tried to carry it with us nor could we have stopped to put him to rest.” Ansil was nodding, but Ingrid seemed unaffected. “Have some food, I will speak with the inn keeper. We should be able to live here for a week or two without working.”

The tavern was busier than Mathias has original observed with two dozen or so patrons. The din and hubbub of the room came into focus as he wandered farther away from the roaring blaze. There were no adventurers in this crowd.

“Where can I find your father,” Mathias leaned over the bar, “I’d like accommodations for my friends this week.” The girl looked around for a moment before pointing to the corner behind the door. A red-faced man sat alone in the booth with two tankards before him. Mathias glanced back at Ansil and Ingrid. Ansil had already decimated much of the pie and was rubbing Ingrid’s back consolingly. She will be fine in a few days. We should recover Bray’s corpse.

As Mathias approached the innkeeper’s table, the air grew heavy and smelled of some herb he couldn’t identify. The man saw him approaching and stood up, “Welcome to the Frosted Flagon. The name is Ernie. It’s 60 pieces for a night, 300 for a week.” Mathias shook the man’s hand,

“The two others in my party require separate lodging.”

“That’ll run you 275 for a week then. I was just negotiating a long term plan with this fine mage - you can decide if you want to room with her at a reduced cost. When you’re ready, I’ll give you keys and soap.” Mathias swiveled his head to peer into the dark booth before realize the inn keeper had not been alone. The tables candle suddenly sprung to life as a pale hand retreated into the long sleeves of a worn arch mage’s robes.

“Thank you, Ernie.” The man bowed before retreating to the bar. “Please sit.” Awkwardly Mathias, settled into the seat previously occupied by the inn keeper. “I am uninterested in your party’s presence nor do I care for your story. Our room accommodates three - though I’ve heard your party is one fewer than intended.” Whether it was the proximity to the door or the woman’s gentle, cold voice, Mathias felt the air in his lungs freeze.

“I do not sleep often, but I have stored various possessions in the footlocker and dresser below the window. You would do best not to toy with them if you value your life. Magical resistance is not your strong suite. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m unsure - I don’t think I am comfortable…”

“I will rarely be in the room.”

“…not knowing your name?” Mathias blinked. Though he expected a cold response of the mage to his concerns about gendered housing, she seemed heated in response to his question.

“You have no purpose knowing it.”

“I am Mathias of Hertzberg, a knight new to these lands. Ingrid, daughter of Hellsing, is an arch priest -” the woman chuckled unexpectedly, “… and Ansil, daughter of Waylands,” to which the woman openly snorted. The mage raised her arms, her sleeves rolling back to expose a pale hand and an intricately decorated glove. With her gloved hand, she quenched the candle and the bare one she flicked in the air,

“I care not for your stories. Be gone!”

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