Lessons

[Camilla]

The warrior-girl’s morning had proven quite fruitful and informative. If the gods so willed, she could turn the morning’s informational bounty into profit and benefit, not only for herself but also the Scathachians and perhaps the population of the entire district.

Musing, Camilla was doing something she rarely did: sitting still, reviewing all she had learned. The room she occupied was ample enough for her needs. A bed was flush against the western wall, away from the windows. A simple table that could double as a writing desk was on the south side with a simple but well-crafted wooden chair tucked neatly next to the table. A small luxury, a padded chair designed more for comfort than beauty, she had slid away from the wash basin and next to the bed. It was in this chair she now sat, toying with the ring that symbolized the station she had won the prior evening from Aya Hayashibara. She did not know the full extent of how the ring, formerly known as the Eleventh, had become associated with the Old Market District. She had heard tales of rifts, binding ceremonies and a large battle but details and specifics had faded away with the years and she knew not who would hold the knowledge of such things.

Regarding the history of the building she sat within, however, she knew a great deal more now than she had mere hours before. Six-and-a-half years prior, a woman named Rory Laurent, presumably acting on behalf of those in charge of the Duel of Swords Arena, had acquired the Cardinal Inn (and indeed, all of the existing Baronial properties). In the last six-and-a-half-years, eleven prior duelers had won claim over the Old Market District and the Cardinal Inn. Some had chosen to occupy it and others left it to its own devices. One, a man named Jonathan Ecorian Havoick held the title for as little as five days while three others reigned for a year or more. She hoped to follow in the footsteps of the latter.

At the time the Laurent woman located the building, the aging inn was reflective of the era in which it was built. Though cared for well enough, the building was not untouched by time. It remained standing in part due to its stalwart construction (unsubstantiated rumors told of dwarven masonry and magics when the place was first built), not solely because of care and maintenance. The Inn’s owner had been trying to unload the place for almost a year and had stopped putting time, energy and money into what he felt was a lost venture and poorly spent capital. The time had come where those who ate and drank in the tavern or stayed in the rundown rooms did so out of habit or convenience; the once robust ambiance of the place had faded into distant memory any loyalty patrons once felt to the edifice had long since worn away.

All that had changed after the Inn’s acquisition on the Arena’s behalf. When The Cardinal Inn became associated with important figures from the Arena, more powerful and influential than others, it was transformed accordingly. Rotting timbers were replaced but treated and shaped so they matched the existing décor. Chipped and missing stones on the façade were restored. New furnishings for the tavern and all twelve rooms were brought in. The existing crud-laden hurricane lamps in the tavern were cleaned and refreshed, allowing them, along with the large hearth, to cast the place in an inviting glow rather than the glum and sometimes sinister light about which more than a few patrons had complained over the years.

The sign advertising the Cardinal Inn, though still in good shape, was also removed and replaced. The new sign was hand-carved and crafted. In its middle lay a circular crest. Emblazoned on the crest, with colors enchanted by magic so as not to fade or wear away, sat a cardinal, but not the red-plumed bird that most associated with the species. Instead, the cardinal appeared more like those that lived in the deserts. The majority of its body was colored blue, with streaks of deep red where its wings and body came together. An almost cream-colored beak remained closed and immediately underneath the beak, carrying all the way down the underbelly, were more brilliant streaks of red. Instead of a black-feathered mask surrounding the eyes and beak, those feathers were also red. A majestic red plume started from the back of the cardinal’s neck and swept forward over its head like the imposing crest on a centurion’s helm. Its eyes were a deep royal blue that bordered on purple, eyes which carried a sort of wisdom and understanding in the light. The bird’s expression exuded a quiet unwavering confidence as opposed to pride or anger, as if it knew it belonged and dared anyone to suggest otherwise. Its blue-grey trident-shaped claws clasped around the pommel of a razor-sharp single-edged axe, hued in green, that it used as a perch. The same axe, of a history rarely shared and known only to very few, was mounted in a place of honor over the hearth in the tavern where patrons could not help but notice, if for no other reason than its coloring.

Camilla had learned the mantle-bound axe was merely a replica, enchanted with the green glow to mimic the true weapon which currently lay next to her on the hay-stuffed mattress of the room’s single bed. The weapon, unnamed as far as she knew, served as the blade of Old Market’s Squire. Should she choose to appoint one, the individual would be permitted to carry and wield the axe whenever he or she so chose. Camilla did not understand the nature by which the axe knew who was appointed to wield it, nor did she understand or necessarily believe the strange tales of fortune, both good and ill, that befell those who carried it. In the day’s light streaming through the windows, the green coloring was barely visible and she was curious to see how much light it emanated come nightfall.

The tavern portion of the building, located on the bottom floor, was of good size, small enough to retain an air of intimacy but large enough to host a Legion’s officer contingent comfortably. The upper two floors held six rooms apiece; a small inn to be sure, but useful for those who found the Red Dragon Inn too large and aloof or the Great Helm Tavern too ancient and foreboding. Frequently, merchants who had pressing business in the Old Market District and wished to sleep and sup in the midst of that business used the inn as their temporary home. The basement housed preserved meats and spices for the kitchen as well as casks of wines and ales from local farms and breweries. Camilla found it interesting that no drink was served that wasn’t brewed or crafted inside the city walls or outlying farms. Beyond the structure, two aging horses held residence in a detached stable which also housed small pens for chickens and pigs destined for upcoming meals. The live-in cook slept in modest quarters next to the stable.

(cont. in the next post)

[Camilla]

The room Camilla presently occupied was on the third floor, in the southeastern corner. She had examined the rooms to the west, but the view was blocked by the wall and large rampart separating Old Market from Seaside and she had no desire to stare at weather-worn grey blocks or wall-patrolling guards. From the windows in her room, she could look east over the district and catch the barest glimpse of the Marketplace through the alley next to the tall and thick edifice of the First Goblin Bank of Rhydin. To the south, she could look down upon the stable and staff quarters but more importantly, she had an unobstructed view of the nearby beach and waters separating the northern half of the city from the southern. Across the river that spilled out into the ocean, she had a clear view of Dockside and its countless warehouses and, if she strained, she could barely catch a glimpse of the Old Temple District over the thick city wall that stood between it and Dockside. It was by no means the best or most sought after view in the city or even the district, but it suited her.

Much of this information she had learned from the cook, Franklin. The man was old, but not ancient, and he walked with a limp. Reluctant to speak at first, she won him over with persistence and a willingness to partake in a robust sampling of his cooking. Though his manner remained gruff, she found the man likable and imagined his reactions when Baroness Hayashibara criticized, as she mentioned happened more than once, the dirty nature of the place. To Camilla, the Cardinal Inn was far from unclean. Indeed, it was what she expected of a place most often visited by those passing through, intent on gorging themselves on meat and mead and leaving the remnants of their meal scattered over plates, table, and floor like broken bloody scraps of human flesh strewn over a battlefield.

For many years, Franklin and his wife had lived out back of the Inn, tending to its patrons and cooking their meals. His wife had been killed just over two years prior, in a fierce storm he vehemently referred to as Sanyumato. She knew nothing of it but from what Franklin explained, the city suffered much under its wrath. She imagined the ferocity of the gods was behind such as storm and wondered what had sparked their anger to such a degree. Though injured himself, the result of which was the limp he now carried, Franklin had carried on without his life’s companion. Camilla gathered that the old man was rarely, if ever, afforded the opportunity for real conversation and she resolved to provide him with the chance whenever she could.

Franklin’s most famous dish, one for which the Cardinal Inn was renowned citywide, was known as “chili”. To Camilla, though the term was unfamiliar, the ingredients were not and she likened it to a hearty and spicy stew good for warming the body on a chill night and for providing warriors with a final hearty meal before battle. A meal consisting of this chili, she felt, would be welcomed amongst her army.

Looking out the windows, Camilla squinted as the sun’s rays, with the star at its zenith, reflected off of the river with a thousand javelins of sparkle and light as if the gods themselves were bursting forth from the waters. She continued to play with the ring as she gazed over the city. She had been requested by Isuelt to attend a meeting with the new Baroness of Old Temple, a woman known as Nayun, later in the day. The time for that meeting was hours away. Until then, Camilla needed to think and to pray. The gods had fueled and favored her during the battle with Aya Hayashibara. She would pray for their continued blessing. She would pray for their continued guidance and aid, for she needed their favor to continue for sakes far more important than her own.