ARC 6-Winter War-06
It doesn’t take long for the first hunters to arrive.
The door is thrown open with force, banging against the wall as a group of four walks in. I grimace as I take in the man in the lead. With his square shoulders, thick muscles, and broad chest, he is a walking pillar of masculinity. And his hair. There’s far too much of it. Ugh.
Covering most of his features is the head of a skinned bear fashioned into a hood. The rest of the skin hangs down to his ankles. On his feet are thick, leather boots lined with the same dark fur as the skin he wears. In the right light, or perhaps the wrong one, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistook him for a beast.
Behind him are three individuals that rival his own impressive height, dressed in grey full plate. Each of them is armed, their chosen weapons a bit oversized; a sword nearly as tall as its wielder, a spear with a nasty jagged tip, and a shield that can be re-purposed as a door.
Quite the intimidating group. Howie is certainly impressed from the way he tenses behind the bar. Alana’s eyes are practically shining with admiration. That’s right, she grew up around these types.
Time for me to do my job.
I slip from my seat, mug in hand. “Hello there, gentlemen. Here for the meeting or a drink?”
The leader turns his shadowed gaze to me. Then he inclines his head. “Evening, young miss,” he says in a voice that I’d imagine the bear on his head might have used if it could have talked. “I’m known as Bearskin Steel and prefer to go by it. We’re here for the meeting, representing the Steelskin guild, but we’ll take the drinks as well, if it’s no trouble."
I blink at him for a moment. Didn’t expect politeness from the man dressed as a bear. “Lourianne Tome.” I mean to curtesy but he stops me by holding out a hand. I shake it, minding my strength. “The drinks aren’t a problem. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend you start with the Herbanacle. Good drink, strong but not too strong.”
“That will do us fine.” Bearskin waves the others to follow him to a nearby table. There’s a moment of awkwardness as they seat their large, heavy frames on the relatively small chairs.
I walk back to the counter with a shaking head. “Howie, four Herbanacles for the large gents,” I say while retaking my seat. “So, that’s the Steelskins.” Not that the name means anything to me.
“Martial guild,” Howie grunts as he fills four mugs. “Rare thing to prioritize physical prowess over magical in this city. Secondary focus on earth casters. A few like to make fun of them, call them simpletons, but the Steelskins play an important role. They are vanguards. They distract the monsters and take the blows so soft casters have the freedom to cast their spells. They work with the other guilds a lot. Rowdy bunch though.”
I take a look at the “rowdy” hunters sitting on the chairs too small for them, talking quietly amongst themselves. Then I turn to the bartender with a raised brow.
“Bearskin keeps his men in line.” Howie finishes pouring and Sara performs her job, carrying the tray to the table. “Seeing him makes me feel better. Means they want to be reasonable.”
Reasonable is good.
The next group to arrive confuses me. This is supposed to be a meeting of hunters but the man who walks through the door looks like a young lord on his way to a party. He’s far too colorful with his red vest, blue scarf, and brown leather gloves. His dark hair is neatly combed back and his rather plain features arranged in a cool mask.
Following behind him are two obvious servants, despite their rather good dress. Their bowed heads and the two paces they keep from their lord gives it away.
The young lord sniffs and promptly covers his face with a cloth. “This place smells of filth and rot. How anyone is expected to enjoy a moment here is beyond me. Ulbert, fetch the owner.”
“Yes, my lord.” The manservant moves toward the counter with determined eyes.
There goes reasonable.
I slip off my stool and block his path. “Hello there,” I say with forced cheer. If this devolves into a brawl, it won’t be because of me. “Lourianne Tome. Working for the owner to keep the peace.” Take the warning.
“My lady.” He bows. “I am Ulbert, manservant to Lord Kimbleford III, vice-captain of the 4th lance of the Seventh Sons. He wishes to meet with the owner of this establishment.” The young man’s eyes move past me to Howie.
“Whatever your master needs to say can wait till all the representatives of the guilds have gathered. Until then, please be seated. Have a drink, kick off your boots.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need to insist.”
“Then I will insist even stronger.”
“The lord does not take well to his time being wasted.”
“I don’t take well to being talked at like I’m a servant. You have to deal with his tantrum if he throws one, not me.”
“What is this?” Kimbleford stomps over, his maid trailing him. His hand moves from his nose, exposing his sneer. It lessens a little as he looks me over from head to toe. “You are?”
“Lady Lourianne Tome,” Ulbert says before I have the chance.
“Tome. Yes, I recall a family by that name. Big in the capital recently.” His sneer relaxes a bit more. “Good then, we can have a sensible conversation. I have no intention of playing whatever game that green man is orchestrating, summoning important members of the guilds to this stable. If we are here to sign a deal, let it be signed so we can get on with more important things.”
He reaches into his vest and pulls out a folded paper. “Here is the deal, as agreed. Brew for us, gold for the creature, in amounts satisfying to both parties. Be a dear and tell him to sign it already so I may get on with my night.”
I snatch the paper from his hands, reading it as he stares at me in shock. Hm. He wasn’t lying. That is no small amount of gold and for the work Howie promised. Then why is he being so—ah. There it is. This contract is an agreement between Howie and the Seventh Sons. No mention of the other guilds involved in this deal. That can’t bode well for his intentions.
“Have you taken leave of your senses? That is a sensitive document.” He reaches for the paper but I easily avoid him. “Return it to me!”
“Sure thing, young lord.” I pass back the suspicious contract. “But as I was saying, we’ll be waiting for the other representatives to arrive before we do any business. You should take a seat. Plenty of tables and this place serves a good cup.”
Kimbleford scoffs. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time with you. Get out of the way.”
I stop him with a hand on his chest. His manservant grabs my wrist, with some strength judging by the tension in his fingers, but I ignore him. “Let me put this another way. I’m here to keep order. You will do as I say or you’re going out the door. Understand?”
“Ulbert. Remove this impertinent woman.”
The manservant frowns as I smile viciously at him. Before he can explain to his lord that he doesn’t like his chances, a large, gauntleted hand grabs him by the back of his jacket and raises him until he is balancing on his toes. He flails his fists only to wince when his knuckles smack against hard armor.
“Is this bastard bothering you, young miss?” Bearksin growls from behind Kimbleford.
The young lord turns and his sneer returns in full force. “I see the Steelskins sent their pet.”
“Behave yourself, Kimble. Our guilds made agreements about this meeting. If you do not conduct yourself with some decorum, then the young miss won’t have to trouble herself. I will throw you out on your ear, pup.”
“Decorum? Don’t make me laugh. Just yesterday, our men had to help detain your boys rampaging through the streets of Quest. You wear a skin instead of a shirt. I shall take advice on my manners from someone else, thank you.”
Kimbleford looks past me to Howie. “Are you not a man? Speak for yourself. This is your future we’re meant to be discussing.”
“Nah, don’t think I will.” He waves in my direction. “That’s what she’s for.”
“What did I expect from lowborn and foreigners. Fine. Ulbert, have one of the tables cleaned. Leigh, fetch me something to drink. I take even this dump can serve a decent glass of wine.”
He huffs as he stomps away, standing by the door with his arms crossed like a petulant child. Bearskin nods to the hunter holding the manservant and he releases him. He gives the armored man a nasty look before marching up to Howie. “A rag and a bucket of water, if you please.”
“Hey, if you want to do my cleaning for free, be my guest.”
“Excuse me, Lady Tome.”
I turn to the maid and she bows. “You’ll have to forgive my lord. He is a bit brash when it comes to business. Please find it in your heart to overlook any offense.”
“I’m not the one he needs to apologize to.” It’s Howie he tried to screw over. And perhaps the other guilds. “You need a good wine for him, yeah? Come on, I’ll give you some recommendations.”
“Much appreciated, lady.”
“What’s his problem anyway? Howie, give her a bottle of the red that makes everything look a little pink and the white that makes your chest feel like it’s got a cloud in it.”
“Should…anyone be drinking those wines?” the maid asks.
“You’re about to be drinking Howie’s brews by the barrel. Best get used to the unusual side effects now. Besides, they’re good. Now, your master? Why did he come barreling in here with that dubious piece of paper and a bad attitude?”
I sigh as she keeps her silence. “I understand that you don’t want to speak out of turn but you should if you have his best interest at heart. I wasn’t kidding about throwing him out. It’ll help if I know why he’s acting like an asshole.”
She bites her lip as she thinks. In the meantime, Howie places a wooden tray with two wine bottles and two cups on the counter. I grab the red wine and fill my mug. “So?”
She meets my gaze over the rim of my cup for several long moments before finally sighing. “The Seventh Sons is a guild established by noble sons who cannot inherit their house,” she says slowly, as if considering every word.
I hold up a hand. “Stop. No need to say anymore.”
She smiles in relief, bowing her head and hurrying off with the tray. Across the room, the manservant has just finished drying a chair and is beckoning the young lord to sit.
Three more guilds to go.
ARC 6-Winter War-06
It doesn’t take long for the first hunters to arrive.
The door is thrown open with force, banging against the wall as a group of four walks in. I grimace as I take in the man in the lead. With his square shoulders, thick muscles, and broad chest, he is a walking pillar of masculinity. And his hair. There’s far too much of it. Ugh.
Covering most of his features is the head of a skinned bear fashioned into a hood. The rest of the skin hangs down to his ankles. On his feet are thick, leather boots lined with the same dark fur as the skin he wears. In the right light, or perhaps the wrong one, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistook him for a beast.
Behind him are three individuals that rival his own impressive height, dressed in grey full plate. Each of them is armed, their chosen weapons a bit oversized; a sword nearly as tall as its wielder, a spear with a nasty jagged tip, and a shield that can be re-purposed as a door.
Quite the intimidating group. Howie is certainly impressed from the way he tenses behind the bar. Alana’s eyes are practically shining with admiration. That’s right, she grew up around these types.
Time for me to do my job.
I slip from my seat, mug in hand. “Hello there, gentlemen. Here for the meeting or a drink?”
The leader turns his shadowed gaze to me. Then he inclines his head. “Evening, young miss,” he says in a voice that I’d imagine the bear on his head might have used if it could have talked. “I’m known as Bearskin Steel and prefer to go by it. We’re here for the meeting, representing the Steelskin guild, but we’ll take the drinks as well, if it’s no trouble."
I blink at him for a moment. Didn’t expect politeness from the man dressed as a bear. “Lourianne Tome.” I mean to curtesy but he stops me by holding out a hand. I shake it, minding my strength. “The drinks aren’t a problem. If you haven’t been here before, I recommend you start with the Herbanacle. Good drink, strong but not too strong.”
“That will do us fine.” Bearskin waves the others to follow him to a nearby table. There’s a moment of awkwardness as they seat their large, heavy frames on the relatively small chairs.
I walk back to the counter with a shaking head. “Howie, four Herbanacles for the large gents,” I say while retaking my seat. “So, that’s the Steelskins.” Not that the name means anything to me.
“Martial guild,” Howie grunts as he fills four mugs. “Rare thing to prioritize physical prowess over magical in this city. Secondary focus on earth casters. A few like to make fun of them, call them simpletons, but the Steelskins play an important role. They are vanguards. They distract the monsters and take the blows so soft casters have the freedom to cast their spells. They work with the other guilds a lot. Rowdy bunch though.”
I take a look at the “rowdy” hunters sitting on the chairs too small for them, talking quietly amongst themselves. Then I turn to the bartender with a raised brow.
“Bearskin keeps his men in line.” Howie finishes pouring and Sara performs her job, carrying the tray to the table. “Seeing him makes me feel better. Means they want to be reasonable.”
Reasonable is good.
The next group to arrive confuses me. This is supposed to be a meeting of hunters but the man who walks through the door looks like a young lord on his way to a party. He’s far too colorful with his red vest, blue scarf, and brown leather gloves. His dark hair is neatly combed back and his rather plain features arranged in a cool mask.
Following behind him are two obvious servants, despite their rather good dress. Their bowed heads and the two paces they keep from their lord gives it away.
The young lord sniffs and promptly covers his face with a cloth. “This place smells of filth and rot. How anyone is expected to enjoy a moment here is beyond me. Ulbert, fetch the owner.”
“Yes, my lord.” The manservant moves toward the counter with determined eyes.
There goes reasonable.
I slip off my stool and block his path. “Hello there,” I say with forced cheer. If this devolves into a brawl, it won’t be because of me. “Lourianne Tome. Working for the owner to keep the peace.” Take the warning.
“My lady.” He bows. “I am Ulbert, manservant to Lord Kimbleford III, vice-captain of the 4th lance of the Seventh Sons. He wishes to meet with the owner of this establishment.” The young man’s eyes move past me to Howie.
“Whatever your master needs to say can wait till all the representatives of the guilds have gathered. Until then, please be seated. Have a drink, kick off your boots.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need to insist.”
“Then I will insist even stronger.”
“The lord does not take well to his time being wasted.”
“I don’t take well to being talked at like I’m a servant. You have to deal with his tantrum if he throws one, not me.”
“What is this?” Kimbleford stomps over, his maid trailing him. His hand moves from his nose, exposing his sneer. It lessens a little as he looks me over from head to toe. “You are?”
“Lady Lourianne Tome,” Ulbert says before I have the chance.
“Tome. Yes, I recall a family by that name. Big in the capital recently.” His sneer relaxes a bit more. “Good then, we can have a sensible conversation. I have no intention of playing whatever game that green man is orchestrating, summoning important members of the guilds to this stable. If we are here to sign a deal, let it be signed so we can get on with more important things.”
He reaches into his vest and pulls out a folded paper. “Here is the deal, as agreed. Brew for us, gold for the creature, in amounts satisfying to both parties. Be a dear and tell him to sign it already so I may get on with my night.”
I snatch the paper from his hands, reading it as he stares at me in shock. Hm. He wasn’t lying. That is no small amount of gold and for the work Howie promised. Then why is he being so—ah. There it is. This contract is an agreement between Howie and the Seventh Sons. No mention of the other guilds involved in this deal. That can’t bode well for his intentions.
“Have you taken leave of your senses? That is a sensitive document.” He reaches for the paper but I easily avoid him. “Return it to me!”
“Sure thing, young lord.” I pass back the suspicious contract. “But as I was saying, we’ll be waiting for the other representatives to arrive before we do any business. You should take a seat. Plenty of tables and this place serves a good cup.”
Kimbleford scoffs. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time with you. Get out of the way.”
I stop him with a hand on his chest. His manservant grabs my wrist, with some strength judging by the tension in his fingers, but I ignore him. “Let me put this another way. I’m here to keep order. You will do as I say or you’re going out the door. Understand?”
“Ulbert. Remove this impertinent woman.”
The manservant frowns as I smile viciously at him. Before he can explain to his lord that he doesn’t like his chances, a large, gauntleted hand grabs him by the back of his jacket and raises him until he is balancing on his toes. He flails his fists only to wince when his knuckles smack against hard armor.
“Is this bastard bothering you, young miss?” Bearksin growls from behind Kimbleford.
The young lord turns and his sneer returns in full force. “I see the Steelskins sent their pet.”
“Behave yourself, Kimble. Our guilds made agreements about this meeting. If you do not conduct yourself with some decorum, then the young miss won’t have to trouble herself. I will throw you out on your ear, pup.”
“Decorum? Don’t make me laugh. Just yesterday, our men had to help detain your boys rampaging through the streets of Quest. You wear a skin instead of a shirt. I shall take advice on my manners from someone else, thank you.”
Kimbleford looks past me to Howie. “Are you not a man? Speak for yourself. This is your future we’re meant to be discussing.”
“Nah, don’t think I will.” He waves in my direction. “That’s what she’s for.”
“What did I expect from lowborn and foreigners. Fine. Ulbert, have one of the tables cleaned. Leigh, fetch me something to drink. I take even this dump can serve a decent glass of wine.”
He huffs as he stomps away, standing by the door with his arms crossed like a petulant child. Bearskin nods to the hunter holding the manservant and he releases him. He gives the armored man a nasty look before marching up to Howie. “A rag and a bucket of water, if you please.”
“Hey, if you want to do my cleaning for free, be my guest.”
“Excuse me, Lady Tome.”
I turn to the maid and she bows. “You’ll have to forgive my lord. He is a bit brash when it comes to business. Please find it in your heart to overlook any offense.”
“I’m not the one he needs to apologize to.” It’s Howie he tried to screw over. And perhaps the other guilds. “You need a good wine for him, yeah? Come on, I’ll give you some recommendations.”
“Much appreciated, lady.”
“What’s his problem anyway? Howie, give her a bottle of the red that makes everything look a little pink and the white that makes your chest feel like it’s got a cloud in it.”
“Should…anyone be drinking those wines?” the maid asks.
“You’re about to be drinking Howie’s brews by the barrel. Best get used to the unusual side effects now. Besides, they’re good. Now, your master? Why did he come barreling in here with that dubious piece of paper and a bad attitude?”
I sigh as she keeps her silence. “I understand that you don’t want to speak out of turn but you should if you have his best interest at heart. I wasn’t kidding about throwing him out. It’ll help if I know why he’s acting like an asshole.”
She bites her lip as she thinks. In the meantime, Howie places a wooden tray with two wine bottles and two cups on the counter. I grab the red wine and fill my mug. “So?”
She meets my gaze over the rim of my cup for several long moments before finally sighing. “The Seventh Sons is a guild established by noble sons who cannot inherit their house,” she says slowly, as if considering every word.
I hold up a hand. “Stop. No need to say anymore.”
She smiles in relief, bowing her head and hurrying off with the tray. Across the room, the manservant has just finished drying a chair and is beckoning the young lord to sit.
Three more guilds to go.
