Chapter 6: The Wayward Tavern

Aiden eventually reached the tavern’s entrance and stepped inside. He found several men and a few women seated at wooden tables, engaged in lively conversation while dining and drinking to their heart’s content.

It was quite a spacious establishment with glowing lamps hanging at different corners. The tavern also had an upper floor that served as lodgings for travelers and townspeople.

A woman swayed slightly across the tavern, and a tray of ale balanced on one hand with foam trembling at the rim of each mug. Her blouse had a low neckline and clung to her breasts, with the bodice cinched just enough to lift and press her full bust into view. Her clothing style revealed the skin of her collarbones and the room’s lighting made her glow.

Her woolen skirt stretched past her knees and hugged her hips and thighs tightly. Each step she took made the fabric shift, and if you were staring from behind, you would find yourself resisting the urge to touch it.

She didn’t have to rush to deliver the cups of ale, for these men were happy with waiting.

And when she reached a table of customers, she leaned just enough to set down the mugs. “Don’t spill a drop,” she said, with a voice pleasant to listen to and her lips curling.

One of the men fumbled a few coins into her hand, but she gave him a sharp yet playful look. “You’re short two coppers, handsome. Try again.”

The man grinned sheepishly and reached for his pouch while she moved on to scan the next group of customers who enjoyed watching her work and walk, whilst waiting patiently for their serving to come.

While she certainly caught everyone’s attention, Aiden wasn’t spared but not in the way one would think. He simply identified her as the bar-keeper running the tavern and exactly the right person to speak with about his predicament.

One by one, she served patrons and collected payment from those whose ale had finished, while Aiden began walking toward her. She paid no heed to the approaching figure as she made her way back behind the counter where she originally poured the ale.

When Aiden entered and moved through the tavern, he drew some attention to himself, but only because these people hadn’t seen such a young man walk into their establishment in quite some time. Moreover, he clearly wasn’t a regular customer.

He arrived at the counter to find the woman busy pouring fresh ale and wiping down cups, barely paying him any attention. “Good day, barkeeper,” he began politely.

“If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction toward Xathia, and perhaps spare me some bread, I will serve your drinks for the rest of the night and do whatever else you deem as fair payment.” Despite being a royal, Aiden had the manners of a common man and understood that nothing in this world came for free.

The woman, whose name was Liora, stopped what she was doing for a moment and turned toward the sound of Aiden’s voice. She looked him over carefully, taking in his black hair and well-groomed appearance, before her lips broke into a knowing smile.

“Go back to your father’s house, boy,” she said dismissively, picking up her tray of refilled cups and continuing her walk toward the men with empty mugs, completely ignoring Aiden’s request. She had immediately recognized that Aiden was likely the son of a noble who was probably running away from home and had no idea what he was doing. Frankly, she didn’t want to get involved with any of that.

Aiden turned to watch her as she continued serving other customers, his face showing nothing short of frustration at being ignored while his stomach continued to growl with hunger.

However, just near the counter sat a burly, broad-shouldered man with a full beard at one of the wooden tables, across from his companions, with an ale in hand.

Having overheard Aiden’s request, he now spoke up in a thick, rough accent: “Eh? What’s a posh lad like you doin’ out here?”

His companions, three of them in total, had all turned toward Aiden’s direction as well. There were two men who wore similar warrior outfits and a muscular, pale-skinned woman who had a scar across her face and braided brown hair. She wore a wool-like cape draped across her shoulders, and all of them seemed curious about this unexpected visitor.

Seeing that someone else had given him attention, Aiden seized the opportunity and walked closer to their table. “If you would be so kind, sir, to point me in the direction of Xathia—” he began, but before he could finish his request, the man’s companions burst into fits of laughter while exchanging amused glances with one another.

Alaric, the man who had called out to Aiden, had a broad smile on his face as well, and then said warmly, “C’mere, come sit wi’ us fer a bit, eh?”

Aiden didn’t understand what was so amusing about his request, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. These people who had taken interest in him might, at the very least, be of some help, he reasoned. He approached the burly man, who shifted to one side to give Aiden space to sit down at their table.

The companions could tell immediately that Aiden was nobility, though perhaps not of the highest order. His clothing gave him away first, that fine jacket wasn’t something you’d see on common folk wandering the streets. His dark, tousled hair, though somewhat shabby from travel, bore a richness of color rarely seen among the common people.

Most telling of all was his accent, refined and well-mannered despite his current predicament. Though of course, no one would mistake him for actual royalty—a true son of the King, bastard or otherwise.

He lacked the distinctive white hair that marked the royal bloodline, which was the only thing most outsiders knew about the King’s children.

Alaric leaned forward, with his face breaking into a grin. “Won’t ask again what you’re doin’ out here noble lad, but go on—tell me you’ve got some of that fancy noble magic, eh?”

His companions immediately looked up at him with varying degrees of concern. “Oh not again…” Rakan said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

Ingrid, the muscular woman, then spoke. “Alaric, don’t…”

Tam, the man with the eye patch, simply drank his ale after offering brief chuckles, choosing not to contribute words to the conversation.

Aiden sat there looking thoroughly confused, and Alaric turned to address his teammates’ concerns. “Oh come on, ya never ’eard nobles’ve got strong magic? Could be useful, this one.”

Aiden tried to interject, and with a bit of desperation in his voice, he said “Useful for what? I’ll do whatever you ask if you can point me towards Xathia…” He paused, then pushed his luck a bit further. “And maybe spare me some bread if you have any.”

It was a rather desperate attempt, but his stomach was growling, and right there before him were plates of food, though nothing compared to what he was used to, but would serve to quell his rumbling tummy.

Ingrid shook her head in resignation, deciding to continue drinking her ale and eating her meal, seeing that even the noble boy seemed rather interested in what Alaric was cooking up.

Rakan threw his right hand up in an exasperated gesture and removed himself from the conversation as well.

Alaric continued in earnest, “Oh, we’ll do more than just point ya to Xathia—we’ll take ya there ourselves. We’re Xathians, after all. But first, we’re makin’ a quick stop in a town nearby, and you can throw some of that magic of yours into a dungeon raid. Sound fair, yeah?”

Aiden felt his heart skip a beat. Of course he knew of dungeons, who didn’t? The stories were legendary. They had started appearing one hundred years ago after the defeat of the Demon King, and Aiden had always been fascinated by the tales Grandal would tell him.

Stories of monsters, epic battles, brave knights, and mages who had been properly accepted into guilds and were allowed to partake in dungeon raids. According to Grandal’s explanations, mages who participated in and successfully cleared dungeons did so in service of the Kingdom and the Continent at large.

That was all Aiden knew of dungeons as of right now, but he also understood that the risk involved was tremendously high, perhaps too high for bread and simple passage to a Kingdom.

However, could he really choose at this point? His options were limited, and these people were his only hope of reaching Xathia. He then nodded in agreement to Alaric’s request and simply said, “Yeah.”

“Perfect!” Alaric exclaimed, seeming to be the only one pleased about the arrangement, as the others either shook their heads in disapproval or acted as though they paid no mind to it at all.

But truth is, this was how they all came to be in one party. Alaric made a habit to always look out for extra people to join in their raids, anything to increase their chances of survival.

Alaric immediately called out in that thick voice of his to reach the bartender, who had returned closer to their position after serving customers at the far end of the tavern.

“Liora, love—get us one more plate for our mate ’ere, will ya?” As he spoke, he crossed his big left arm over Aiden’s shoulders with a grin spreading across his face. Aiden’s facial expression formed a wry smile as Alaric’s considerable weight pressed down on his shoulders.

“Coming right up!” Liora called back as she walked past them.

…

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