The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Olesm’s heart began to pound.

  “Why? Is she—I mean, is everyone alright? I haven’t visited the inn in a while.”

  Again, Pisces sniffed.

  “Nothing damaging. Rather, we had accepted a rather odious task to clear an infested cave of vermin. The mission was hardly dangerous. Physically, that is.”

  “Vermin?”

  “Yes. An infested cave a few miles from Liscor. It was filled with roaches. Cockroaches. About ten thousand of them. Our task was to eliminate their nest and as many as possible. There were…complications.”

  Pisces brushed at his robes. Only now did Olesm look down and notice several smears on the robes. They were enchanted to resist staining and dirt of course, but the liquid on the robes was sticky. There were black bits of shell and wing and a few legs—Olesm’s tail twitched and Pisces grinned.

  “Ice magic is futile against those kinds of roaches. We had to burn them. Unfortunately, there were larger variants with nasty bites and they swarmed us. Well, I say ‘us’ when I mean my other three companions. They got into Yvlon’s armor and onto Ceria…Ksmvr was most helpful in eating them. I believe he and Ceria consider the roaches as snacks and were more offended by the bites than anything else.”

  He seemed amused by Olesm’s reaction. Pisces looked around the room, meeting a few gazes before they quickly averted. He shook his head and sniffed a third time.

  “I was intending to do more work today, but it seems my presence is unwelcome here.”

  That was an understatement. Adventurers watched Pisces with folded arms. Some turned their backs to him. One made a gesture. Olesm winced. He knew [Necromancers] were unpopular in Liscor and the rest of the continent—well, most of the world, really—for good reason, but Pisces’ attitude seemed to exacerbate the issue.

  “I got the report! Olesm, I have them and—oh.”

  Maviss returned, holding a sheaf of parchment and stopped when she saw Pisces. He looked at her and she hurriedly shoved the file into Olesm’s hand before retreating behind the counter. Olesm paged through the report.

  “It seems like everything I need. Miss Maviss, can I return this at a later date?”

  “Absolutely! Uh—can I help you?”

  Maviss stared at Pisces, tail twitching nervously. He looked at Olesm and then at her and shook his head.

  “Not in the slightest, I would imagine.”

  He turned. Olesm looked at Maviss.

  “Thank you for the files. I have to be going.”

  “Oh. Wouldn’t you like to stay for—”

  The Drake hurried away and out of the guild. Olesm walked quickly, pausing to greet an adventurer he knew, and then hurried down the street. He wanted to open the report in his apartment, but realized someone was striding along in the same direction as him, practically at the same speed.

  Olesm and Pisces halted in the street, staring at each other as Drakes and Gnolls walked around them. Pisces frowned at Olesm. Olesm scowled at Pisces.

  “Why are you following me?”

  Pisces sniffed.

  “I am not. It would appear we were moving in the same direction purely by happenstance. That is known as coincidence.”

  He turned. Olesm stuck his tongue out at his back and heard a giggle. He turned, and then his scales turned bright red as he saw Drassi and a few female Drakes he recognized gossiping together. They waved and Olesm waved back before covering his face with one claw.

  Pisces glanced at the Drakes, and noticed one of the [Guardsman] on patrol giving Olesm a nod. The same [Guardsmen] spat as he passed by Pisces. The mage’s voice was acerbic.

  “It seems you are well beloved in this city, Mister Swifttail.”

  Olesm nodded. He felt a bit embarrassed, actually, given how people were treating Pisces.

  “I get to know a lot of people in my job. It uh, seems like you’re not well loved here.”

  The [Necromancer] shrugged.

  “My reputation as a [Necromancer] precedes me. Too, there are my past crimes.”

  Olesm recalled the incident with the monster terrorizing innocent villagers out of food and coin. He scowled.

  “Yes. That. But I think people might still treat you better if you made an effort.”

  Pisces was turning to go. He looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

  “Why should I? Their opinions are set in stone. Besides, my isolation is a product of my achievements and who I am. Talent is lonely. I do not need friends or adulation. Success is its own reward.”

  His words stung Olesm’s scales like nettles. And yet, at the same time Olesm had an instinctive sense that Pisces was lying through his teeth. He didn’t have a truth detection Skill, but the Drake still sensed it. And…talent?

  Olesm though about Ilvriss praising him and the shame and mixed emotions he felt. Whereas Pisces practically shouted his own arrogance. That lit a fire under his tail. He snapped at Pisces.

  “You seem to have an inflated opinion of your abilities.”

  Pisces smirked.

  “Accurately judging my own worth is not hubris. If others fail to comprehend my worth, that is their failing. Not mine.”

  “Oh yeah? Well—well, what if you’re wrong?”

  Snappy retorts were the specialty of Selys, not his. Olesm felt his scales flush and Pisces gave him a condescending look that was worse than a reply. Olesm lashed his tail against the paving stones.

  “Okay then. If you’re so special, why are you lowering yourself to adventuring with others? Unless you’re not talented enough to do things by yourself?”

  The mage’s eyes narrowed. He took a moment to respond, and his coolness infuriated Olesm even more.

  “Pragmatism, of course. And perhaps a bit of—nostalgia. Regardless, my status as an adventurer is a career decision. The true mystery is why you aren’t an adventurer. You seem enamored with the profession, not to mention a certain individual. Why not pursue such interests?”

  The words hit Olesm right in the heart this time. A critical hit. He stared at Pisces, feeling his fury rising. He spat.

  “I wasn’t invited. I asked, as you recall.”

  “Indeed I do. Hm. If a rejection was enough to stop you, then perhaps it was wise of you not to choose to be an adventurer after all. Words may burn, but they are a paltry force compared to claws and magic. If you cannot weather rejection, combat would certainly prove your undoing.”

  The arch look. The burning words. Olesm opened his mouth and lifted the report about the dead adventurers.

  “At least I was brave enough to go with them the first time! Where were you? Too cowardly to join them? I know Ceria asked you—why come crawling to her later when you rejected her once?”

  Pisces’ eyes narrowed dangerously. He opened his mouth and Olesm balled his claws into fists. Before he or Olesm could say anything else, both heard a voice calling Olesm’s name.

  “Olesm! Olesm Swifttail! I have a delivery for you!”

  The Drake turned his head. His eyes widened.

  “Hawk?”

  The Rabbitman was striding down the street, moving twice as fast as anyone else. As usual, Hawk appeared to be practically vibrating with energy. In the cold weather he’d left his muscular abdomen exposed and he seemed immune to the chill. Olesm wondered if he’d had any of Erin’s Corusdeer Soup.

  The Courier halted in front of Olesm and opened a pouch on his belt. It must have been a belt pouch of holding, because he pulled out several objects before he came up with a very thick sealed envelope. Olesm stared at it. If Hawk was delivering it, the letter had to be sent by Courier. Or was Hawk doing City Runner deliveries?

  “What’s this about, Hawk?”

  The Rabbit Tribe Beastkin offered Olesm the letter.

  “I’ve got a message for you, Olesm. What else? It’s a pretty lucrative delivery for me; a simple package. I got it from Invrisil—a quick run, even with the Corusdeer stampede I had to dodge. Here, just state to me on this truth stone that you are Olesm
Swifttail and—”

  “Wait, what? But I—I haven’t been expecting any deliveries! And this looks expensive!”

  Hawk nodded.

  “Sure is. I can’t tell you the specifics—Runner’s confidentiality and all that, but I think this came from First Landing. Which means it’s from another continent.”

  “Another continent?”

  Pisces was staring intently at the letter and at Hawk. The Courier eyed him, but said nothing. He was all business as he offered Olesm the various tools Couriers used to prove their deliveries had occurred, and then nodded.

  “Looks good. Here you go.”

  He handed Olesm the letter. It was thick and the paper looked very costly. Olesm gingerly pulled out a dagger; he’d reuse the paper if he could, and looked at Hawk.

  “You have no idea who this is from?”

  “Probably someone who likes your chess newsletter thing. I hear that it gets good traction among the Drake cities. Didn’t you get a whole bunch of deliveries from the Runner’s Guild after some idiot misspelled your name wrong or something?”

  “Yeah, but no one’s sent a message by Courier—”

  Olesm was fumbling with the plain wax seal. It wasn’t stamped, so whoever wanted to send this didn’t feel like broadcasting to the world who they were. He was thinking about his chess newsletter. Yes, it was certainly possible, but what with all the dangers of the Goblin Lord and so forth, Olesm had completely missed sending his chess games and analysis for the last two weeks. And it wasn’t like his chess newsletters had spread beyond the continent. So who—

  His heart stopped as he pulled out the short message from the envelope. At the top of the creamy, soft paper flecked with bits of gold was an insignia he recognized. It was a wing, or rather, a stylized flowing wing comprised of three colors. Pink, yellow, and green, the same colors as the eyes of their leader. Olesm would have recognized the insignia anywhere as a [Tactician], and the inhaled breaths from Hawk and Pisces showed both recognized it too.

  The banner of the Forgotten Wing company stared up at Olesm. It was one of the Four Great Companies of Baleros. The Forgotten Wing Company. The Iron Vanguard. Maelstrom’s Howling. And the Eyes of Baleros.

  But of the four companies, this one mattered most. Because the greatest [Strategist] in the world led that company. And Olesm’s eyes travelled slowly down the page, skipping the precise, neat handwriting and finding the signature at the bottom.

  Niers Astoragon.

  Olesm looked up. Hawk stared at the letter. Pisces’ face was dead white. The [Mage] stared at the [Tactician]. The [Tactician] stared at the [Mage].

  Hawk the Courier stared for a second longer and then whistled.

  “Cool. That’s great, Olesm. Glad I decided to deliver it. Hey, do you know anything about those Goblins in Erin’s inn? I nearly kicked one when I came through the door. Hello? Guys?”

  He peered at the two stunned chess lovers and shook his head.

  “Never mind. I’ll go ask someone in a tavern. Let me know if you want to send a reply. It’s not listed on the contract, but I could ask. Later!”

  He strode off. That broke the spell around Pisces and Olesm. They stared at each other, earlier arguments forgotten.

  “Well? What does it say?”

  Pisces was peering at the letter. Olesm hesitated, and then showed it to him. The two read it, and their faces turned paler. Olesm went line by line through the letter, muttering out loud in disbelief.

  “To Olesm Swifttail…most impressed by your analysis…quality of the games represented…intriguing endeavor…attached puzzle I have compiled myself? Looking forwards to future publications? A SMALL TOKEN OF MY APPRECIATION!?”

  He reached into the envelope and slowly lifted out a glinting brass ring. The insignia of an eye was set with a tiny diamond in the metal. Pisces stared at it. He stared at Olesm. Olesm threw up his hands. Pisces did likewise. The two screamed, and they began to dance wildly about, shouting in disbelief.

  The people walking down the street halted and stared at the two as Olesm and Pisces danced about, shouting incoherently about chess and Niers and rings. They didn’t care, but it was the subject of much entertainment for everyone watching. Including the young woman and Drake standing down the street, munching on some toasted breadsticks dipped in cheese and watching everything.

  —-

  “What are those two idiots doing?”

  Selys and Erin paused as they watched Pisces and Olesm dancing about in the street. Erin shrugged.

  “Dunno. They look happy, though. It’s weird seeing them together, isn’t it?”

  Selys sniffed.

  “Hatchlings are the same wherever you go. Anyways, forget them Erin. You were telling me about the Goblins?”

  “Oh, right!”

  Erin began walking after Selys, leaving the dancing Pisces and Olesm behind. She sighed.

  “It’s a problem. Not them, exactly, but pants.”

  “Pants?”

  “Yeah, we’re having a real pants crisis. They don’t like them. They want to wear their horrible old loincloths, but I made them get rid of them because they were nasty. Really nasty. But they’d rather walk around naked than with pants…”

  “What, really? That’s disg—what do they look like?”

  “Selys!”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “Mrsha lives in my inn!”

  “Ooh. Okay, that’s a problem.”

  “Yeah. She’s learned they’re a weak spot. And she hates the Goblins. So she keeps throwing things at them. She hit Badarrow right in the groin with a pot the other day, and you know what happens when she doesn’t like something. She bites. I want to avoid that. So if you know any good [Tailors]…”

  “Let me introduce you to one right now. Don’t you worry; Aunt Selys is on the job! That’s Aunt Selys for Mrsha, obviously. Don’t call me an Aunt, Erin. It’ll make me feel old.”

  “Aw. Can I call you my cousin?”

  “Maybe…”

  They wandered off. Pisces and Olesm kept dancing, and eventually they stopped. Olesm handed the letter to Pisces, and with a trembling claw, put on the ring.

  4.37 O

  “Argh! I’ve gone blind!”

  Olesm’s first reaction upon putting on the ring was to roll about on the ground and scream. He felt like someone was stabbing his eyes out with a toothpick. Everything was spinning, confusing—blurring! He tried to focus his eyes on his claws, the sky, anything, but he didn’t see what he should have, just intense and very large blobs of color.

  The agony persisted until someone grabbed Olesm roughly. He flailed at the person with his claws and felt someone grab one of his fingers. Olesm felt a hand twist the ring on his index claw and suddenly the world was back to normal. He blinked tears out of his eyes and saw Pisces standing over him.

  “Wha—what happened?”

  “The ring modifies your sight. Obviously.”

  The [Necromancer] stepped back and Olesm sat up. A crowd of people had gathered around him. Olesm waved sheepishly at some people he knew. Pisces just sniffed. Olesm passed trembling claws in front of his face. Were they larger than they should be?

  “Wow. A Ring of Sight? But when I put it on, everything was so—so—”

  “The enchantment allows you to adjust the magnification effect by twisting the ring. It was not difficult to identify the nature of the spell. Which is clearly what you should have done before putting the ring on. Do you make a habit of using magical items without ascertaining their natures?”

  Pisces stared pointedly at Olesm. The Drake felt the scales on his cheeks warm. He coughed and got up. Yes, the world was larger than it should be. He carefully twisted the ring on his fingers and felt everything slide back into normal focus.

  “Um. Thank you, Pisces. Sorry everyone. Just an unexpected incident with a magical artifact. Heh.”

  The crowd dispersed, since that really was a usual occurrence and Olesm hadn’t done anything else interesting
like grow a second tail. Still very embarrassed, Olesm brushed at his clothes and looked at Pisces. He coughed, and the mage silently handed him the letter from Niers Astoragon.

  “A Ring of Sight. An appropriate gift for a [Tactician] beginning his career. No doubt similar artifacts are used by most conventional strategists, hence the decision to gift one to you.”

  “What? Right. Yeah, it’s good. I normally ask for magnification spells or—it’s good.”

  Olesm peered at the letter again. The short missive still stunned him and he stared at the crest at the top of the letter. A letter from him. Niers Astoragon. If there was a hero among [Strategists], it was him. Everyone who respected planning, organization, smart strategy and—and anything having to do with that kind of thing respected Niers Astoragon.

  He was famous for beating [Mages] and enemy [Generals] alike with his sophisticated mind games and winning battles thought impossible with clever insight rather than brute force. Of course, he was a Fraerling; brute force wasn’t an option for him.

  Olesm was a huge fan of his and clearly Pisces shared the same opinion. The [Necromancer] was inspecting the envelope carefully, even sniffing it. Olesm snatched it away from the mage and turned. His heart was racing. He had only one thought in his mind.

  “I have to tell Erin about this!”

  She would be so excited to hear what had happened. Or—did she know who Niers Astoragon was? She’d be excited when Olesm explained him to her. He began hurrying down the street. For some reason, Pisces followed him.

  “It seems this chess newsletter has reaped quite a substantial reward. Especially for so little work.”

  “What? Oh, yes. It has.”

  Olesm frowned at Pisces. The [Necromancer]’s eyes were fixed on the letter in his claws, and the ring. Olesm had to prevent himself from fiddling with it; he’d have to find out exactly how far he could see with it. If the blinding images were anything to go by, it could probably magnify his sight many, many times over.