The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “A…few. Would you indulge me, sire?”

  She’s looking at me. I smile again.

  “I’m afraid that whatever questions you have will have to wait, Wiskeria. However, I do want to talk with you soon about what I’m doing here and what the Celestial Trackers and the Windfrozen Riders might gain from staying here longer.”

  A pause. Then Wiskeria’s voice.

  “You want us to stay here. To become your subjects.”

  She’s sharp. I cover my reaction with a delicate nod.

  “It’s an offer I’m thinking of. I’m not asking you to decide right away. And if you think it would bother the others, by all means wait before telling them. I’d just like you to watch what’s going on here. And then decide.”

  I left Wiskeria with that. I can’t force her to do anything, and there’s so much I have to do. I’ll show her what Riverfarm could be by doing. And learn more about her too. But what was it I was told? Ah, yes. An empire is built upon the strength of its subjects. I need more than Riverfarm’s villagers if I want to create someplace safe.

  It really was good advice I got.

  Day 59

  I was in the center of the village, going over plans for the new village with Prost when it happened. The bear that the Celestial Trackers had found woke up. It may have been hungry, or perhaps the avalanche changed whatever internal clock it was using for hibernation. Maybe it was just pissed off, but the results were the same.

  The bear came down into the village. That might not sound like much, but I think anyone who’s ever seen a bear up close would understand.

  “Bear attack!”

  “Get to safety!”

  “Dead gods, look at the size of it! It’s not a bear! It’s a Mossbear!”

  “Get around it! Wiskeria, cast a spell! Someone get me my horse!”

  Adventurers scatter and horns blow as the scouts on the perimeter sight the bear and raise the alarm. The bear, or rather Mossbear might have just woken up, but it charges into the village with incredible speed.

  From my position in the center of the village, I can sense the villagers rushing away from the bear. Prost is busy shouting for people to retreat to the barn as adventurers try to form up. Some charge the bear and strike at it from the side. It turns, knocks a girl with a sword across the ground with a single paw and roars as an arrow bounces off of its fur.

  “Oh shit.”

  I can ‘see’ the bear’s form as it scatters the adventurers. It is easily three times as large as the biggest warrior here, and it looks like a tank made out of fur and muscle. Its coming right in my direction, too, towards where all the food in the barn is kept—and all the people.

  “Fire! I mean, loose the arrows and get me a fire spell!”

  “It’s not working! It’s too wet and the fur is too thick!”

  Adventurers are loosing arrows at the bear and I can see Beniar running for his horse. But the problem is that a bear of this size is a huge armored target with all of its fur. Wiskeria scorches it with a spell and another adventurer mage hurls shards of stone at it—the bear just roars and keeps coming.

  Towards me. At some point I realize I should run, but it is far too late. The bear is moving across the ground faster than I can run. I look around, searching for somewhere to hide where it can’t reach me. Then a huge figure slams into the bear from the side. I hear a roar almost as bestial as the bear and see Durene.

  I’d forgotten how tall Durene is, and how large. She towers over the other adventurers as she grabs the bear, punches it, and sends it reeling backwards. One of the adventurers lashes at the bear’s side with a sword, barely cutting into it, but a second punch from Durene makes the bear back up.

  It rises on two legs and tries to slam its entire weight on Durene. She grabs a paw and head-butts it. The bear grows, tries to bite Durene’s neck, and then claws her as she dodges.

  Its claws are sharp, and they cut into her arm. Durene cries out and I sense blood hitting the ground. But she doesn’t fall back. She raises a fist as Beniar races towards the bear. It’s growling, and I know how dangerous bears can be. I don’t realize I’m running forwards until the bear is right in front of me.

  “Stop!”

  My voice is a shout, and I can feel the command in my tone strike the bear. And everyone else as well. Durene, Beniar—his horse slows and the world pauses around me. The bear stops too. It stares at me, making a faint noise that’s half warning, half inquisitive.

  “Stop.”

  I stare at the bear, quivering as I sense how huge it is. Durene’s got a handful of its fur, but it looks like it could savage her in a moment if it gets the upper hand. How would the adventurers kill it? It would be a terrible battle and there are too many innocents around. I stare at the bear.

  It’s starting to move. My command only works for a moment. And the bear is hurt now, angry. It growls at me and I see Durene take a firmer grip on it. Her fist is clenched. She’s unarmed. My [Paladin]. Why haven’t I gotten her a weapon?

  This is my battle as much as hers. I stare at the bear. And then I open my eyes. I stare, sightless, at the huge bear. I can feel an…intensity in my gaze. Something stronger, frightening. A Skill. [Intimidating Glare].

  “Begone. Go back to your home. Leave my subjects alone.”

  The bear whines. It’s not aggressive. I stare at it, forcing myself to keep up the intensity, project my will. It’s a battle of wills. I’m a [Beast Tamer] in this moment and an [Emperor]. I tell the bear that I am not food. My village is not food. I speak to it.

  And it obeys. The bear twists and Durene lets go. It slowly begins to lope out of the village, into the forest. Adventurers hurriedly make way.

  “I’ll take a force and go after it!”

  Beniar is the first to recover. He gestures at the others and I stop him.

  “No. Don’t antagonize it. That bear could kill some of you—leave it be for now. I don’t think it’s coming back.”

  He hesitates, and then bows his head towards me. I stumble backwards, and someone catches me.

  “You scared me to death! Don’t do that! What if you’d gotten hurt?”

  “You did get hurt!”

  I reach towards Durene as she cradles me in her arms. I know she’s wounded. I can feel the blood and hear her beating heart. Durene grunts as she puts a hand over the gashes on her arm. I feel anxiously at them. They’re not thick, but I demand a healing potion for Durene, despite her objections.

  Gamel rushes towards me with a potion. Odveig and Wiskeria approach with deepest apologies and explanation for why the bear could have woken up so suddenly. I calm everyone down, assure the adventurers I’m not angry, talk with them about safeguards, have a watch posted on the cave, and life resumes.

  It’s moments like that which break up the day and make you realize how special life is. Which is why Durene and I retired to my cottage for a few hours.

  Ahem. Afterwards, I ponder the encounter with the bear as Durene lies beside me in bed. It was startling and frightening to me more than the others for one reason.

  I hadn’t sensed it coming. Oh, I’d known the instant the bear entered the village’s radius, but the adventurers had already raised the alarm. I hadn’t known the bear was coming. If I didn’t sense that, what else might happen that I’m unaware of?

  The bear. It’s apparently a Mossbear, a subspecies of the regular bear group that’s bigger and tougher than usual. Magic plus biology comes up with some scary stuff. Although Mothbears are even more feared. Mothbears. What would one of those look…? Never mind.

  I can’t tell where it lives. It’s outside of the village’s range, as are the new houses we’re trying to build. That’s a problem. Knowing what’s around me is essential. I can sense the entire village and when someone gets hurt I can tell at once.

  Like when one of Gamel’s friends slipped and nearly cut his hand off while trying to cut through a broken beam in one of the houses. I shouted and got a healing potion to him in
time. If we’re making a new village, no, if we’re going to keep this village safe, I need to be able to ‘see’ more.

  Which means I need to expand my claim on the lands around. The problem is, the area around Riverfarm is wilderness, forest, open ground, rivers…no one owns it and I can’t just say that’s mine. I tried, and it doesn’t work.

  I have to do something about that. But maybe later. I lie down next to Durene, my head’s spinning with ideas and thoughts. Safety is a relative thing. It can leave you at any moment. But I’m very grateful I hired the Silver-rank adventurers. They could kill the bear if they had to, despite its size. And Durene’s here. She wrestled the bear.

  The village has its guardians. What would happen without them? The next day…I find an answer to that question.

  Day 60

  The Windfrozen Riders picked up the man on the horse at the road and brought him to Riverfarm. By the time he arrives, looking frozen and practically tumbling off of his saddle, I’m there with Prost, Gamel, Durene, and a hot mug and food for him.

  He eats like a beast and nearly weeps when he tastes the hot sausage. He does weep when he takes in Riverfarm and hears about the avalanche. I see him hugging Prost and crying into the man’s shoulder.

  Apparently this man is named Helm, and he’s a [Blacksmith] from another village nearby. Well, nearby is a relative term. His village is a good fourteen miles east of here, located by a big prairie. It is called Windrest, and it is burning.

  Mister Helm practically throws himself at my feet when he hears who I am. I have to make him sit, and he keeps bowing his head as he explains what’s going on.

  “Goblins, milord. There are Goblins attacking every village from here to Mafalt. Raiding parties. They say there’s a Great Chieftain of the Goblins who’s rising in support of the Goblin Lord. They attacked our village—we have nowhere to go.”

  I listen in grave silence with the other adventurers. A group of around sixty Goblins had hit Windrest last night. They’d slaughtered a dozen people and torched a few buildings, but what they were after were the animals and winter stores the people had. They made off with two thirds of the village’s goods and a lot of their supplies—and two young women. The villagers had sent word to the nearest town and received assurances that adventurers would be sent out. But the village as it was right now was practically helpless.

  They didn’t have coin to hire protection. And they were terrified the Goblins or some other monsters might come back. With nowhere to turn, they’d sent Helm and others to look for aid. They needed food for the winter, someone to protect them…Helm had despaired at the task as he’d ridden from hamlet to village, until he’d come here.

  He knew Riverfarm, and when he hears there are two Silver-rank teams guarding the place, his eyes nearly pop out of his head. When he hears I’m an [Emperor], Helm gets down on his knees in the snow and muck.

  “Sire, we’ve nothing to offer you. But Windrest will perish as sure as I’m speaking if the Goblins come back. If you could spare your adventurers to guard us, give us just a bit that we might live, I swear we’ll repay you!”

  “You can’t ask Emperor Laken for that!”

  Prost is outraged. He speaks up before I can calm him down, addressing me as much as Helm.

  “Take away our protection? We’ve barely enough food for ourselves! If we spared the grain and meat to keep your village alive, we’d be stabbing ourselves in the back!”

  “We can’t live, Prost. Not with what we have. We’re this close to selling what we own and going to the nearest town to become [Beggars], the lot of us.”

  Helm turns his ashen face towards Prost, looking wretched. He knows he’s asking, but he has to ask. A small village that suffers this kind of raid in the winter…I understand.

  But still, I can’t give him either adventuring team. Goblins. If they hit Windrest, they will come to Riverfarm. I know it and feel a chill. But the people…

  What would anyone do? I look at Helm and know there is only one thing I can say. Prost is looking at me with pain in his eyes. I glance at him, and nod.

  “Bring your people here, Mister Helm.”

  The [Blacksmith] looks up, eyes widening. I look around at the other villagers, at the adventurers, at Laken and Durene. I nod at Prost.

  “We might not have enough food for all of us at the moment. We don’t have much room, but we do have people who can protect everyone. I’ll do something about food if it comes to it. But I will not let your people die if I can help it.”

  “Thank you, your majesty! Thank you! We’ll never forget it!”

  Helm tries to kiss my hands. I order him to get some hot food in him and tell him I’ll send an escort to Windrest. When the man is eating a second meal—he looks half-starved—I glance over at Prost.

  He looks worried. Mister Prost meets my eyes, a thousand unspoken problems at the tip of his tongue. I understand. But I can’t address his fears now. That’s not what I need to say. Not in this moment. I glance around as I see every eye in the village fixed on me and smile slightly. I nod at my [Steward].

  “Mister Prost, I think we’re going to need a lot more houses.”

  4.21 E

  Day 61

  I used to be afraid of getting up in the morning. Or rather, reluctant. There are days when I want to crawl into my warm blankets and hide. Sleep is an alluring thing.

  Funny. Having someone I love changes that. I feel Durene’s presence when I sleep and when I wake—she’s inevitably up before I am. And because I miss that, I get up.

  That still doesn’t mean I like the sensation of wandering around Durene’s cottage and getting dressed in the morning any better. Durene is quite warm at night—enough so that blankets are necessary and clothing is not, but in the morning, her absence makes things chilly.

  Is it undignified for an [Emperor] to walk around looking for a clean shirt and arguing with his pet bird? If it is, only Durene sees that aspect of me. When I exit my cottage, I am dressed, fed, and mostly coherent.

  Today’s a big day. Just like yesterday. The man from Windrest, Helm, is due to return with his villagers tonight. I sent him back with an escort and the Wildfrozen Riders will have left already to escort the villagers down the road to my village.

  I hope they make it here safely. Goblin attacks are on the rise and many villages are in danger. That’s why this morning I make it a priority to talk with the two adventurers who are waiting for me first.

  “Odveig, Wiskeria, can I trouble you to talk this morning? Durene has some tea hot in the cottage. Prost, is there anything I need to take care of at the moment?”

  “Nothing, sire. Gamel and I will await you in the village.”

  Prost gives me a surprisingly elegant bow and he and Gamel retreat. The two female adventurers, the leader and sub-leader of the Celestial Trackers, exchange glances. The shorter one with the mace shifts uncomfortably.

  “I would hate to intrude Mister L—I mean, your majesty!”

  “No need to worry about formalities, Odveig. I’ve told you that.”

  “Sorry, milord.”

  I smile reassuringly at her. She’s clearly uncomfortable around me, still. Wiskeria on the other hand seems to have adjusted to the current situation quite well.

  “It’s quite cold out. I’d like to ask about the Goblin attacks and what you know of them.”

  “Ah!”

  Odveig seems relieved; I can hear her tone lighten and sense her posture change. She nods at Wiskeria.

  “If that’s what the problem is, we can talk about the Goblins. There’s nota problem in my eyes, but we’ll know more about the threat once the villagers return, right enough.”

  There’s something funny about the way she says ‘not a’, as if it’s one word. Perhaps it’s because I’m blind, but that instantly puts a smile on my face to hear an accent so nicely distinct.

  Funny, I can’t help but think of her as Scottish or of some similar heritage. Her accent’s a good bit different, but ther
e’s that name and…wait, is Odveig a Scottish name? No…I don’t think so. What country then?

  Ah, does it matter? There’s only so many ways words can be written in any language, and this world’s fixation on the English language means there would be parallels. And why does everyone speak English? Ryoka had a theory…

  I lead the two young women inside—well, Odveig is definitely older than I am, and Wiskeria’s probably older too—and they take a seat on one of Durene’s oversized stools and sip from her mugs. Durene’s already left to help in the village.

  “It seems like a lovely cottage, sire.”

  Wiskeria sits comfortably in Durene’s home. I can’t detect a hint of disingenuity in her voice, so I hope she’s being honest.

  “Yeah, it’s ah, a really nice place, your majesty.”

  Odveig is a poor liar. I can sense her sitting across from me, looking around anxiously and then at me while she clutches her mug in both hands. She hesitates.

  “Not to pry, but why are you staying here? As I said, it’s wonderful but…wouldn’t it be safer to sleep in the village? I know a few good houses have been dug out—they’d surely be more comfortable than here—not that here is—”

  She stumbles over her words and shuts up, embarrassed. I smile at her again.

  “I’m sure it would, but this cottage has sentimental value to me, Odveig. I first met Durene here, and it’s a fine place for me to sleep and work from. I seldom stay here anyways; it’s got a few of my possessions, and a bed, which is all a good home needs.”

  “Ah. Well. That’s good. Uh, you said you wanted to talk to us about Goblins? Your majesty?”

  I hope she can get over her awkwardness soon. Covering an internal sigh, I reach for my mug. Oops. It’s empty.

  “Allow me.”

  Wiskeria takes the tea pot over the fire and fills the cup for me quite gracefully. I’m surprised—she could be a [Maid], not a [Witch] for how coordinated she is. I nod to her.

  “Thank you, Wiskeria.”

  Yes, Wiskeria and Odveig are an odd duo. Odveig’s clearly at home with the mace she uses, but she’s far more awkward outside of battle, and that’s presumably why she turns to Wiskeria for advice so often. Wiskeria, the [Witch] often seems to have answers when Odveig falters.