by 5kops
"Squire, I have been searching for you!" a jovial voice announced.
Areck turned around to see the not-so-lean Lord Silvershield smiling at him, still dressed in a polished suit of scaled-plate mail. Though his superior looked full of merriment, Areck knew the man was a fearsome foe in the cumbersome armor, which conformed to his wide chest and equally large stomach.
"My lord," Areck responded with a nod of his head.
"I have just come from a council with the High Lightbringer, Areck!" Lord Silvershield said. "I will be leading a company of men on a training exercise as an escort for our young friend here. Furthermore, Lord Lightbringer wishes that nine squires accompany me in this task. You are to be one of them!"
Areck opened his mouth for a reply, but was cut off.
"I already have each squire picked out, lad, as well as the meeting time. We will be at the stables, geared up and ready to leave at dawn," the commander said. With a wink to Arawnn he added, "By the way, you will be leading them, Areck."
"Me?" Areck gulped. "My lord, I do not think I heard you correctly."
The rotund knight could only chuckle. His squire was often in the middle of each day's action yet oblivious to his abilities as a leader. Lord Silver-shield saw a bright young commander in the making. He had kept Areck under his command since the boy's last knight had released him.
"This is a training campaign, Squire. You have been my right hand for many years and are very capable of the responsibility. I did not think you would have a problem with this order. Am I wrong?"
"No, Lord Silvershield," Areck replied crisply, excitement in his voice. "I am honored to serve as a junior officer on this campaign!"
Lord Silvershield placed both hands on Areck's shoulders and for once looked serious. "The High Lightbringer informed me that you would be joining Arawnn here in the city?"
Arawnn stepped forward, interpreting Lord Silvershield's serious nature as a reprimand to his guide. "My lord, I asked Areck's indulgence for the night. It is my fault that he will be placed in a less than honorable situation, but I give my word to keep him out of harm's way."
Areck glanced sideways and saw an amused look on the face of Lord Silvershield, though he suspected the knight was likely annoyed at the interruption and breach of protocol.
We will discuss the proper etiquette later, Areck thought, deciding that he needed to show patience with Arawnn. He wondered if the man thought such rules were stupid.
"Not that you aren't a fearsome fighter, Lord Arawnn, but I highly doubt Areck will need your protection," Lord Silvershield replied, a toothy grin splitting his face. "Still, it is good to see a young man step in and take the punishment for another. This is a lesson many among our own order have forgotten."
"As to you . . ." Silvershield turned his attention back to Areck.
"My lord, I do not plan on indulging myself in any sin tonight. I will only be there to guide this man around."
"Bah! I am not reprimanding either of you, so get those scowls off your faces!" the knight-captain snorted. "If you will let me finish . . .?" He glanced at both young men. "Good. As I was saying, since you will be touring the city tonight, I have some advice on the better establishments for different pleasures."
Lord Silvershield described for twenty minutes the best drinking holes, the finest inns, and places in Aresleigh where a man could indulge his curiosity with discretion. The smile on his face broadened when he noticed Arawnn paying close attention to the whereabouts of each place, whereas Areck was quite red at the thought of being drunk and doing what was being suggested.
"Lad, there is nothing wrong with having some fun outside of the Code." Bowon said with a small frown, pulling Areck within earshot so no one would overhear such blasphemous words. "I can see the look on your face. You are aghast at the mention of some of the places I suggest. Let me tell you a story of a young man much like yourself: full of honor and pride. He was the type of man that refused such sinful actions. Then he was given a great task, one that was beyond his abilities—one in which he failed. When God turned from that man, he learned that it was his job to live life to the fullest; that to fear the Almighty's wrath made him weaker, not stronger. Do not make that same mistake."
Lord Bowon sighed at the fact that he was lecturing his squire. He could see that Areck was nodding to be agreeable but had no concept of was being said. He reprimanded himself for interfering; the boy embodied what Starsgalt intended in the world. He knew an old man's philosophy had no place in a humanity that was lost in their religion; sometimes reason was forgotten in the face of faith and honor.
"Take Arawnn to a good place, Squire, and enjoy everything," Lord Silvershield announced. "I promise that we will not see the comfort of a city for several weeks once we set out."
"Thank you, my lord," Arawnn said smiling. "I will drag him to at least two of your recommendations."
"Aye, thank you, my lord," Areck echoed, looking relieved by the change of subject. "I have an interesting night in store, one where I will probably be protecting him!" Areck pointed at Arawnn, giving him an amused shrug.
"I shall see you at dawn, then," Bowon said. He clasped each young man's arm, spun around, and made his way towards his own room.
The two young men exchanged glances as they watched the large knight walk away.
"I really like that man." Arawnn broke the silence as Lord Silvershield rounded a corner. "He is so unlike the rest of you knights, so . . . cheerful in his demeanor," Arawnn chuckled.
"Aye, he is a good man, Arawnn, even if he wanders down the wrong path at times," Areck replied. In fact, he could feel great divinity within Lord Silvershield, suppressed by years of sinful action. It was hard to understand how someone, whom rumor suggested to be a vagabond and heretic, could be so firmly enveloped in Starsgalt's glory.
Arawnn nodded, opened the door and motioned outside. "If we are going to be back by dawn, we had better get going."
Areck groaned and followed the courier past the courtyard and on to Veres Street, which would lead them towards an inner gatehouse. He was overwhelmed with how busy the night was.
Several carriages rattled down the paved roadway towards the inner city's most prominent theatre, the Galleon's Stage. Though he was not accustomed to a noble's night life, Areck knew that such people preferred drinking when a troupe came to town. It looked like this was such a night.
Areck had once seen a play, long ago, depicting the cycle of life. It had been an interesting story about growth and decay. He remembered it mostly because Lord Silvershield had enjoyed a small cask of brandy, some smokeweed, and of course a debate with Areck, long into the night.
It was worth it, Areck thought, recollecting a conversation which spanned the entirety of the universe. It is too bad that common people cannot afford such things. Not that they could understand such complicated metaphors, anyway.
"So, Squire Areck, some of the places Lord Silvershield recommended sound quite intriguing. Where shall we start?" Arawnn asked, looking toward the palace, trying to get his bearings.
"I guess that depends on what you wish to do," Areck responded. "I have been inside three of the places Lord Silvershield mentioned and can give my own input on each, if you'd like."
"You have been inside a tavern, Squire?" Arawnn said, with an incredulous smirk on his face.
"I did not say I had partaken in anything sinful," Areck raised his hands in mock surprise. "There are other alternatives to drinking, fighting, and wenching."
"Granted," Arawnn said, laughing. "I cannot think of much off hand, but I am sure you are right, there are other fancies to be had in such places. How about you tell me what you have in mind, and I'll tell you what I wish to see?" Arawnn asked, still chuckling.
Areck nodded and walked to the middle of the courtyard. He pointed north, towards a gathering of buildings. "Down this street is the Silver Horn Inn. It is one of the places that the younger noblemen of the city prefer. They have good ale
from all over the region, but they are pricy compared to the rest of the city. Although I shun looks, the Silver Horn attracts many shapely young daughters looking for wealth."
"Aye, wealth and power always seem to attract each other," Arawnn said. "My job has taken me to too many cities, and there is always a place where the two can meet. I find nobles quite boorish, though. Either they get too drunk and their mock honor is easily offended, or they alienate anyone not of their lineage. Let's not visit that establishment till last."
"I haven't even told you of the others yet."
"Anything will be better than dealing with scheming nobles and wealthy women looking to marry, that I promise you," Arawnn said.
Areck had no knowledge of such things so he just chuckled and continued on to the next option. "Over there is the Foaming Tankard Tavern, a dwarven-owned establishment. I am not sure if you have had dwarven ale but from all accounts, it has no equal. I have frequented this place several times; there are bards of renown, good food, and several booths to conduct private business."
"Hmm. I have never seen a dwarf." Arawnn looked interested. "What kind of crowd are we talking about?"
Although the dwarves of Hammerstone Citadel were not regular inhabitants of the city, some had been commissioned by Duke Hawkwind in the expansion of Aresleigh. Those that remained were now allies of sorts, trading their highly valued time for precious metals, gems, and intimate crafting projects that human hands could not produce.
"Well this dwarf, Druegar Smithbound, is a wealthy landowner here in Aresleigh," Areck explained. "To answer your question, the Foaming Tankard draws many ruffians! In fact, the motto of the tavern is, 'Most fights start here!' Oh, I should also mention that there are very few options for . . . womanly company. Druegar doesn't believe in mixing women with beer." Areck further explained what would be expected if they walked into the Tankard looking for a night of fun and drinking.
Arawnn's shoulders sagged. "What is the last establishment on your list? I do not wish to be hasty when it comes to drinking and fighting."
Areck nodded and continued. "The Twisting Oak Inn is adjacent to the eastern gatehouse. We passed it on our way to see the duke. It is not as rowdy as the Foaming Tankard, but lacks high quality food, beer, and nobility. It is an open establishment visited by many merchants, army enlistees, and some of the less notable bards."
Areck knew the establishment well, as he had been visiting it with Lord Silvershield most of his young life. Though the Oak's reputation did not extend to seedy, it kept secrets well. This reputation was helped by the fact that less than honorable folk stayed away from an area patrolled by so many knights. It was also the reason why his commander chose to meet his countless informants in the private rooms the inn offered.
"Go on." Arawnn looked thoughtful.
"Well, you said you wished to drink and meet young maidens," Areck said. "With so many merchants flowing through its doors, the Twisting Oak has a reputation for attracting in pretty serving girls, as well as courtesans from all over the city."
Arawnn smiled. "There is an old saying in Almassia, Squire:' There would be no reason to drink if not for feasting and fornicating.' So yes, I am looking for a place that can provide more drink and women than a good bar-room brawl."
Arawnn slapped Areck on the back and moved off. "Since our course is decided, let us be on our way. I have to admit that a mug of artesian ale sounds exceptionally good after all the talking I have had to endure today!"
Areck smirked. The poor fellow did not seem to recognize the irony of the proclamation; though he bemoaned having to listen, Arawnn never seemed to run out of things to say.
I guess that is typical of most nobility, Areck thought, hurrying after the cheerful young courier who had the single purpose of getting drunk with female companionship on his mind.
Unlike the inner city, the outer city was exceptionally quiet. Other than vendors stacking their wares on various carts or hauling recently arrived FORGE OF THE GODS
cargo to their warehouses, the streets were empty. It was not unusual that when the nobles were bustling, commoners were drinking, and vice versa.
As they passed several vendors packing up fresh produce, Areck noticed a group of whores lounging near a burned-out oil lamp. He averted his eyes from the lewd gestures the prostitutes were making toward several drunk men who seemed to be enjoying the attention. It disgusted him that such women would be in high demand, especially with so many enforcement agents so close.
Areck had never liked the profession of prostitution; it went against the Anduinic Code. It was hard to have honor and faith when a prostitute sold her soul for coin. He guessed that the Bre'Dmorians allowed such atrocious acts because it curbed violence, allowing the lower class to drink itself into a night of bar room brawling before finding the cheapest lover one could afford. He almost felt sorry for them. The Bre'Dmorian Knighthood did nothing to stop violence against such women, treating them as though they did not exist. Areck guessed it was easier to frown upon the problem than arrest everyone suspected of dishonorable conduct.
Just another blasphemous thought, he supposed. The Academy does not have the unlimited resources it would take to stop the problem.
Soft music interrupted his thoughts. He tried to suppress a smile; it seemed they had picked a good night to visit the Twisting Oak. Areck noticed the bustling throng of people entering the establishment, and those who were already drunk outside.
"They have bards!" Arawnn said.
Since Areck wasn't planning to partake in drinking or socializing, he had secretly hoped that the night would be filled with bardic stories. "You are truly a master judge of things," Areck said, pointing out the obvious nature of Arawnn's comment.
Arawnn laughed. "Let us hope they are a good lot tonight. It always helps to meet the fairer sex when they are preoccupied with a good story."
Areck could only shake his head. "I have been here on many occasions. If the entertainment resembles that of my experience, I would think your chances of success hinge solely on your solemn nature."
Arawnn looked questioningly at the squire.
"Did I mention that they almost always sing of Anduin of Ardoc, the first virtuous knight?" Areck said, trying not to smile at his joke. "Of course, this is just my opinion, but I would think a lot of laughter and flirtation during such a story would only enrage the companion you are seeking. I could be wrong, though."
For once the courier was speechless. Rather than waiting for his friend to slap him on the back and walk off, Areck decided to have a little fun.
"Well do not stand there, sir, let's go listen . . .!" Areck clapped Arawnn on the back, laughed, and walked off towards the inn.
****
Arawnn strode after him. Though the squire had unexpectedly won the last round of quips, Arawnn had to admit Areck's mind was astute, even if the man was restricted by the tyranny of the church. Not that it mattered; tonight was all about having fun. This would be his last evening in civilized lands for many weeks. He knew that once he reached Natalinople, the lord constable would immediately send him off to the Duchies of Thames and Calimond, to confirm the king's demise.
It was worth the price, though, to be part of something special. The events that would unfold, and how they came to pass, would rely on him.
Arawnn considered why he had chosen the position of a royal courier. He had come from the small kingdom of Almassia and was the third son in a small township ruled by his father, Baron Cedric. Because he was a third son there was no possibility of claiming a noble title, and thus no chance to ever be involved in the goings-on of the world. That was why he had chosen an existence that kept him on the road, acting as messenger for the royal court of Arsgoth. It was an important job that afforded him a wealthy estate in Natalinople and a title of Arsgothian lordship. He knew the career suited him well: he met many people, was friends with none, yet trusted by all.
Arawnn had always told himself that he could no
t afford friendship— that he was on the road to often and that the risk of being killed in the line of duty was too high. He held life in high regard, cherishing good ale and attractive young ladies. Yet, now he was involved in important events and on his way to becoming friends with a man who was considerably different than himself.
Arawnn smiled, considering how Areck seemed torn between the buttoned up squire he wanted to be and the man he truly was. With a final gaze at his conflicted companion's back, he climbed up the wooden stairs and plunged into the Twisting Oak.
It was hard to see anything with so many people walking around the commons. Arawnn stood in perhaps the largest inn room he had ever seen, with two stages on opposite sides of the building and several long tables meant for feasting. By the look of the people, Arawnn guessed that he was in the midst of a caravan from northern Arsgoth, mixed with several local merchants and various commoners. Each table was laden with a roasted pig, a keg of ale, and an assortment of produce. The heady aroma of roasting pork made Arawnn's stomach rumble. Though Duke Hawkwind had been kind enough to offer brandy, a custom of thanks and luck to each courier who arrived, Arawnn had not had a well-prepared meal in days. He
pushed through a thick group of people, stepped up on a booth meant for private customers, and scanned the room for his companion.
It only took a moment for Arawnn to spot Areck procuring one of the smaller tables near the northern stage. Satisfied, he stepped down from his perch and decided to slice off a hunk of roasted pig. As he grabbed a knife, Areck turned and motioned him to come take a seat.
Arawnn shrugged. It was not that he didn't carry coins enough to eat— he always carried a small pouch of gold and silver each time he left the capi-tol. He just couldn't help but act roguishly at times; it seemed to attract young ladies who would be eager to assess his charms.
With a sigh, Arawnn realized that with an honor-bound squire in his company, he would have to shelve his tricks. Deciding patience would be the wiser option; Arawnn dropped the knife, inhaled the savory smell of meat, and pretended to be knocked off balance by a young serving maid walking by. He gave the woman just enough time to gather herself before he acted out his part, which was to seem offended at being run into.
