The Empire of Man, Ostermark
Durben
The mountain winds didn't usually reach Durben, but today had been one of those days, with the cold and the rainy season surprising the entire town. But that had been nothing more than an excuse for some people to gather at the village inn and start talking.
-Hehehe, you lost again.
The inn seemed to be bustling with people, with different conversations at every table. For most travelers, a stagecoach inn is the ideal place to stay. Scattered throughout the Old World, these places serve multiple important functions. They provide stops for weary travelers, offer stagecoach companies places to change into new saddles, and offer repair services for damaged coaches and equipment.
"Hey, get me another plate of meat and a bottle of Korben's Finest," Bartosz ordered the innkeeper in front of him, taking the last sip of his drink.
"I heard about another raid in Buckov. They say there were fifty guards, but it was useless." Michał, his usual drinking companion, was standing next to him.
They were two local men, sitting and chatting at the bar, somewhat accustomed to sitting in those places when the town received travelers and the place filled up.
"Damn beastmen... what the hell is the Count doing?" Bartosz assumed they were beastmen, because they always were, no matter the place, the weather, or the time of year.
"The people who deserve to die aren't... And now there are bandits outside and inside the villages." He continued snorting while staring at one of the tables where some men were playing dice. Rumors spread around the village that they were involved in looting, but they seemed to be connected to a local nobleman.
"Hey, shut up, they might hear you, and who knows what trouble they'll cause now," Michal said, a little worried.
"Hmph, let them hear it. You don't avoid shit because you're afraid of it, but because it's disgusting." Bartosz responded in a confident tone, but both men knew it wasn't the truth.
The innkeeper behind the bar was used to talking like this, so he simply kept silent as he wiped the bar and cleaned some of the cups.
"You talk too much for someone who wouldn't say it to your face," Michal joked, as they elegantly waited for the new bottle of liquor that had arrived in front of them, and poured another round into their cups.
But their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wet footsteps; a new traveler had arrived, having failed to take shelter from the rain in time. His face was indistinguishable due to his conical hat, but it wasn't just that that caught the attention of the entire room, which fell silent upon seeing him enter, but also his clothing; they had never heard or seen anything like it.
"Are there any rooms available?" the man asked, ignoring everyone's reactions to the bartender behind the counter.
"Welcome, one night for five silver coins and one week for 12. Meals are separate and service is only available until 8 o'clock," replied the innkeeper, somewhat accustomed to receiving strange customers.
"Pfft, come on, Oltef, he's a foreigner, but he's not an idiot. He's charging you two dollars too much; he's the kind who haggles until he runs out of customers." Bartosz was the one who spoke; he'd already had too much to drink, and when the alcohol got to his head, he tended to be friendly, something the innkeeper didn't like, but he was one of his regular customers.
"You'll ruin my business, you damn drunk," Oltef muttered, "and I'll lower it to four silver coins for you. You can't find a better price, especially now."
Seven silver coins fell onto the table, interrupting the innkeeper.
"A bucket of hot water for my room and a plate of food, please," the man said, taking a seat at the bar.
"Well done, lad. Even though the old man is greedy, his food is the best in town." The two men's laughter continued as they watched the innkeeper walk away with their coins toward the kitchen.
"So, where do you come from? Your Imperial has an unusual accent, and we tend to see people from all over." Although it may seem like an exaggeration, Bartosz had a point, although the roads of the empire were fraught with danger, and no ordinary peasant would dare leave their village for the rest of their lives.
There were adventurers from all over, many of them aiming to explore the mythical dwarven cities. The Ostermark region was their last stop before embarking on their adventure.
"Far East, beyond the mountains at the edge of the world." That was all the man said, as he unloaded his weapon from his waist, a strange longsword, but with a curve they hadn't seen.
"Beyond the mountains, I thought there were only beasts and orcs on that side of the world." Bartosz poured himself another glass of his drink as he passed it to the stranger, his tone playful. These were men who stayed put and learned from their youth that there is no better conversationalist than a traveler. "What is a man from so far away doing in these remote lands?"
The stranger took off his hat and revealed a white face, almost pale but not vampiric in appearance, with slanted eyes and a slender face. He accepted the drink and finished it in one gulp. "I'm looking for a man. I was told I'd find him in these parts."
"It's a long road to find someone. I've heard of your lands; they say the most beautiful fabrics they've ever seen come from there." It was the first time Michal had spoken again. In his youth, he had been the Guardian's assistant, and in his delirious complaints about the hundreds of dangers that threatened the empire, he often spoke of the destinations they came from or where they were going.
-He is a man from my lands, his accent may be the same as mine.
"Sorry, mate, you're the only one I've seen from you. Maybe you could ask the Highway Patrolman. He usually keeps an eye on foreigners, though he seems to turn a blind eye to scum like them," Bartosz said, pointing back to the betting table.
—A sudden shout came from the table. Koyla looked furious as she stood up.—You cheated, asshole!
"Cheater? Me?" the man they were accusing responded, his speech lacking in sobriety and his overall stability even when sitting, pointing at himself and trying to put on an innocent face.
"You thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you, son of a bitch?" Koyla didn't seem to mind his poor attempts at acting, as she knocked over the table and grabbed him by the collar.
The drunk shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Where's your proof?"
—Relax, we all have bad days, but that doesn't mean we should blame the lucky ones. The drunk kept his face smiling as he tried to calm the situation, but it seemed too late, because Koyla's first blow had already sent him to another table and knocked over all the food as he fell.
The stranger seemed uninterested, but noticed something that made him stop immediately as he headed into the fray.
"You'll pay me back for everything you've swindled out of me, with interest, you damn idiot," said Koyla, a man with a scar on his face, only to see the foreigner stand in the middle and kneel down to face the drunk.
"What? Can't you see I'm busy?" was all the drunk said as he watched the stranger approach.
-I finally found you, Zhang Qian.- The foreigner said excitedly, his calm appearance was gone, and his excitement could be easily noticed, which had puzzled everyone in the room, whose attention had been captured by the event.
"Hey, idiot, talk to him later." Koyla, his ego bruised, put his hand on the stranger's shoulder. Normally, he'd be more aggressive, but even though he didn't want to admit it, there was something about this man that scared him.
"I have nothing to do with you, so shut up." That was all the foreigner responded as he tightened his grip on Koyla's hand, annoyed by the contact.
"Agghhh." That was all Koyla could do, screaming about her broken hand.
"I don't know who sent you, but I'm not going back. Now, do me a favor and get out. You're ruining the fun part." The drunk had undergone a dramatic change, the beer-laced flush on his face gone and his shaky voice calm again.
-They only gave me the order to accompany you.
"...Wait outside, I'll finish this and we'll talk. By the way, my name is Hans Morag now," Hans murmured. No one understood what was happening. Koyla was whimpering on the ground, while his men, not knowing what to do, stared at their leader in astonishment.
"Hey, idiot, you'll pay for this; running away won't do you any good." His men helped him up and drew their weapons. Koyla had told them she wanted them dead. Killing two men inside a village would be a problem for anyone, but not if your leader had the Guardian in his pocket, and that was Koyla's case.
"I'm afraid you have more important things to worry about than him." Hans calmly stood up from the ground, and three swift swords shot out of his trench coat, and three men had fallen to the ground with swords at their necks.
Hans didn't seem to react to what he'd done and leaned back in his seat. He took a last sip of his drink and took out another razor blade, playing with it between his fingers.
-I have bad news for you Koyla, you see a few years ago I came to these lands and the journey was not at all something I would call pleasant, but I was lucky to have what I would call some of the best traveling companions, a couple of merchants with a little success who liked to live adventures.
Koyla still didn't seem to grasp what had happened. In an instant, his men were killed, and that drunk seemed to have caused it. He had always been a man who claimed not to fear death; throughout his life, that had been his business, and he had killed dozens of people, sometimes enjoying the lives of some, so he knew what his end would be one day.
-Julia was the woman's name, a warm-hearted woman who always looked after her guards and made sure they were well-rested and well-fed. She often gave away some of her wares to achieve that goal.
Hans continued playing with his sword until, suddenly, it vanished from his hands. Those who had seen it a second earlier were unaware of its whereabouts until Koyla's scream drew their attention to his leg, which held the sword. Unfortunately for Koyla, Hans had taken out a new sword and was once again playing with it between his fingers.
-Jakob was the man's name, a proper and quiet gentleman, who although he didn't speak, always helped when he felt that one needed it. When we passed through poor towns, he used to almost give away his merchandise, with the excuse that it was nothing more than extra cargo.
Another sudden scream from Koyla, and again a sword appeared out of nowhere on her leg, this time digging deeper into the ground.
"They were two good people who just wanted to live the rest of their lives enjoying what they called the most beautiful and adventurous destinations of their lives, two hopeless romantics full of stories and adventures that would brighten up any tavern in the world." Hans stood up from his seat and slowly approached Koyla, looking into her eyes.
Koyla's attempts to move away were completely in vain; her legs not only didn't respond but were nailed to the wood.
-But I'll be honest, Koyla, to me, they were just idiots who seemed to have no idea about the world they lived in. That's why when I heard the news that they had been killed by a group of bandits on one of their adventures, it was something I knew would happen, but I owed them a big favor and you robbed me of the chance to repay them, Koyla.
-A new sword had stopped her pleas, but this time, everyone except Koyla had seen it, because Hans had taken the time to stick it in her hand.
—I understand, Koyla, I don't blame you. There must always be scum like you in this world, but I'm afraid there are also idiots like me who look for any excuse to clean up that scum, and this is mine.
A clean cut was all that was seen, and Koyla's last moans as she clutched her throat, from which blood was pouring.
—Excuse me for interrupting your meals, ladies and gentlemen, this is for the inconvenience and for the damage caused. -Hans placed a couple of gold coins on the table.
The others were speechless as they watched him leave the inn without anyone daring to get in his way.
Bartosz was the first to break the silence with a standing ovation, followed by Michal with a round of whistles. Both seemed pleased with the spectacle they had witnessed, as if it had been a show for their entertainment.
—You've given us excellent service tonight, Michal. Not only did we finally get rid of those parasites, but we've also seen some elite skills, I'd say.
-That's right, surely old Oltef here will agree that this calls for a round of drinks for everyone, paid for with the money of the good gentleman who gave us this great night.
-You heard it, it's my compensation money.
"Come on, Oltef, with the wood these things are made of, you're lucky they don't fall apart with every use. A single gold coin will be enough to replace the entire inn."
"It'll be a round of the cheapest drink," Oltef said as he began serving drinks to each table.
"For our dead and the people who are responsible for settling their debts," Bartosz said.
-I'll help you get rid of them once we're done here.
"You'll barely be able to stand once you finish that one. I called the gravedigger as soon as this all started." "A few coins will fix that," Oltef replied. "Watch your words next time; the man they were following is still alive and will be looking for names."
Bartosz shrugged. I'm not afraid of scum.
"Come on, I'll walk you home after this is over," Michal said, a smile on his face. Like many others in the village, he had been happy about what had happened today.
Since the warden was replaced, he'd been out of work, and every day he saw the town lose the small gains it had made under the previous warden, and corruption ran rampant. Although what had left the biggest mark on him was the warrior's name, he'd been good to them since he was young, and he swore he'd heard of him years before.