A tavern. Small, but still had more than it could carry. Men around the county came here just to set their arms down and take a nice drink of Armoanian Ale. I came to as my time was done in my job. Guarding sounds easy, but not when you have to stand constantly in the same place, not allowed to move and suppose to keep a straight face. I came just so I don't have to feel the pain of my legs along with my buddies. We ordered ale from the beautiful maiden and the Joraal wench. Francis seemed to enjoy the wench's tail. Wouldn't stop teasing her by grabbing it whenever she passed by us. I did my usual laugh as Krieg just insulted her and Francis' liking in the wench.
We had fun and haven't seemed to be the only having around here. Men screamed as they celebrated their winnings or battles, as the wenches sit in their laps or dance with them. The band played in the cheering of the men. It was a classic one: Moonlight King. I can never remember the lyrics. Sweet and just enjoyable. It was about a king giving his son the most he'd ever wanted. He gotten everything and felt as if he need constant holes to fill his needs, until he saw a beautiful lady on the moon. He tries his best to reach her, but he couldn't. She was only a spirit and he could only reach her in the afterlife. It all ends with the prince killing himself uniting with the moonlight goddess. A lovely song and a cheerful one. I listened as my friends talked to each other about the women in the tavern.
I looked closely at the women, the men getting drunk, the band, my eyes were everywhere in the room. Only if my ears could do the same. I saw a shadow shift on the wall coming from a window in the Tavern. It was a another entering the fun. He walked in, pushing the door and walked towards an empty table in a corner. He looked familiar. Wore the emblem of the king on his shoulder. I've never seen his face, but I had the feeling I knew him. I pointed him out to the others in my table and watched as the men and the band took most of the attention.
He was hooded, shadowed face, we tried to see something of his face, a scar, a birthmark, a mole, anything. He sat there as a Joraal came to serve him. He seemed to be kind to the wench, she smiled as she talked to him, we couldn't tell if they were friends or if he was flirting. He held a finger up as the wench nodded and reached into her cleavage and pulled out a letter. She handed him the letter, a small glisan, blinding almost, sealed the letter. It was red, but that was all we could see.
He took a look at us. The shadowed face starred into our eyes. We quickly looked away, but I was the one that kept staring. The torch's fire grew larger as some of his face was shown. For a small instant, I could see his milky eye and large scar on his right cheek. A mean look, I looked away to catch my drink. I needed more Armoanian Ale to forget this.
I took a swig of my mug, I smacked my lips and wiped away what was left of the ale. The doors sounded, another visitor. It was another wench, Khaja Skum. She walked in with a robe over her, and a hood covering her face. Everyone in the tavern stopped to look at her. The men stopped drinking and smiling, the wenches stopped dancing and laughing, the band ceased their melady, just to look at her, the Khaja in man's clothing.
She bared a crossbow on her back, bolts on her thigh, and a sword on beside it. Long sword, made of Keltic Silver. That's the king's silver. People were hesitant to talk to her or make witty remark of her presence, but one was dumb enough to do it. "DId you steal that bolt launcher, Khaja?" one of the men said. She made one look at him and walked away. The man and his companions laughed at her as she strolled to the man in the corner. They took off their hoods, their faces were revealed, and talked. I could tell the face of the wench, she was a bounty hunter. I believe her name was Mz'Andla. I couldn't hear them, but I could lip-read.
"Do you know a man named Tuesday?" the man asked.
"Does he wear a red coat?" It was code.
"Yes, yes he does." The man gave her the letter with the red seal and showed her a mark on his hand. She showed hers and took the letter. I couldn't make it out, but that was all they said and did. She got up from her chair and headed towards the door. Me and my friends looked at each other wondering what was going on with them. Krieg looked at her with a mean look on his face, staring her down as she was nearing the door. "Going out to steal again, Khaja Wench?" he said as she held the door's handle.
A grim frown on her, she stared at him as Krieg smiled knowing she was won over. "You're kind are so poor. Why don't you people go and get owned by one of the rich'ns?" She gave a glowing looking at him, bright blue eyes with the sharp needle in the center.
"I don't have time for this." She turned to the door and attempts to grab the handle again. Krieg, in anger, grabs her arm in turn to get back. In a quick moment, a swift blow to his head, knocking him to the floor. The tavern was quiet now. The band stopped playing as the wenches ran away and the men with them stood tall with their hands near their blades. "English guards wanting nothing, but trouble with their people. Stand down and be glad I don't utilize my crossbow."
She left the tavern as everyone watched. I stayed seated in my chair as Francis tries to help Krieg up. Many thoughts went through my head as this happened. The one that caught my attention was what would the king think of this?