The Wizards betrayal – A Concept Fantasy Story - Part Twenty One

Cont. from Part Twenty or Story Start/Part One if your just joining

Valar rushed across the street and pushed hard to open the solid wooden door.  It creaked as he pushed it open, the wooden floor boards aged and in need of repair also groaned under his feet.  

There were several wooden tables and chairs of a peculiar style, very rustic and a badly aged bar with stools directly in front of him. 

Source

To his left a fire burned in an open fire place...the smoke trail he had followed in. 

For now he seemed to be unnoticed or unimportant to the other patrons, so he casually made for the bar, pulled up a stool and sat down. Well that wasn't too hard....

He spun around on the stool to take in his surroundings, immediately regretting this he realised it was now dead quiet and several eyes were on him.  Feeling awkward he spun back around to be greeted by the bar tender, cloth in hand, wiping the surface of the simple bar clean.

"We serve all types here if ye money is good, what is ye poison Sire!"

"Sire?..." 

"Well with that fancy Armour, I thought you must be a prince or king or something?" 

The patrons in the tavern erupted in laughter, one ugly guy at the end of bar, spat his beer all over the bar as he laughed uncontrollably.

He felt very uncomfortable, he knew everyone was listening and that a number of peoples eyes were staring at the back of his head. 

"Well...make it one beer for me and one for mr pointy my peasant scribe here" he replied with a grin, tapping his hand made spear on the floor. 

He heard a few chuckles behind him, the bar tender grunted and reached under the counter producing a mug with water, he casually handed it over to him.  

"Drink this friend, I suggest ye save ye coin and buy a real sword". 

The patrons laughter was loud and immediate... there were certainly a number of interested or bored drunks in this tavern. 

He grabbed the mug and eagerly guzzled it down, the cool liquid immediately relieving his dryness and even restoring his strength....the hike in had been long and taxing. 

Suddenly the stool next to him was pulled back crudely, wood scraping on wood, not lifted but dragged.

A middle aged blond woman with strange braided hair and leather armour took the seat near him. He turned to see her staring directly at him, her face looked hard like someone who had seen better times or aged before her years.  Before he could say or do anymore she swiftly  pulled a dagger and shoved it into the wooden bar in front of him. 

"Either ye have balls the size of a wop dog or yeh got a death wish wearing Armour like that in ere?" he could not place her dialect but the message was clear. 

"...and what is wrong with my Armour?" he replied calmly.

"It bears the mark of the enemy  of Charok!" she tapped at the emblem on his breast plate.

"...not sure who ye stole it from? but it be the law in these parts you hand that in...How bout I take it in fors ya hey!" 

He heard more chuckles from within the tavern, obviously this was amusing to at least some of the eavesdropping patrons.

"I stole the amour from no-one, it's mine and if you care to direct me to this... Charok? I will stick this enemies stick right up his arse!" 

The bar fell silent once again, he could hear someone cough, several people in the bar got up, the door creaking open and shut as they left in a hurry.

She starred at him for a moment trying to measure him up,  then with a yank withdrew the dagger from the bar and tucked it back into a leather sheath on her side.

"How did an Arkassor soldier end up here? I heard ye all be destroyed.." 

"My ship was blown off course and wrecked here at the coast...my crew lost". 

"...and do you have more Arkassor armour like this at your wreck?" she tapped his breast armour again.

"I did.. but it was stolen by your local welcoming committee... I think some bunch of common  bandits or just plain thieves". 

"Ye are fortunate friend, as ye will find no love of Charok around here", she spat on the bar and the bar tender nodded as if he concurred, no care that she just increased his cleaning work.

"...Bar keep! get this Arkassor soldier beer and stew on me, looks like he could use a good meal and I could use a good tale".

Cont. to Part Twenty Two here