Book 1: Chapter 39: The Twisted Boar

Book 1: Chapter 39: The Twisted Boar

In ages long forgotten, the Children of the Tides were the daring adventurers of the ancient oceans. They voyaged across the world, engaging in trade and pillage along the coastlines of the many lands. But those days have passed, and their once-mighty fleets and ships now exist only in memory. Instead, they have become semi-nomadic, with few permanent settlements, relying on their fast mounts and skill at arms for their military might. Having taken a life before their fourteenth year, each and every one of their Waveriders is a blooded warrior.

In this modern era, the Children of the Tides have reinvented themselves as mercenaries, offering their services to the highest bidder. To this day, they can field a significant number of water mages as their people still share a bond with the ocean. Their magisters, once skilled in the art of controlling the power of the depths, now employ their talents to aid their kin in their logistics. They provide the precious resource of potable water for their long and arduous campaigns.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Worry gnawed at me as we made our progress through the streets. I had to constantly remind myself that a smart criminal walks and does not run. This conflicted with another truth that I had learned through modern media; the culprit almost always returns to the scene of the crime.

The foot traffic was heavy, and a fine layer of dust seemed to coat everything as we walked by the many tents and yurts which lined the main boulevard. The smell of the city almost overwhelmed our noses which were too used, now, to clean country air. Every now and then we would pass a stone or wooden building, but for the most part, they were still relatively rare.

After making our way through the sweaty press of traffic, hands always on our valuables, we saw the sign of The Twisted Boar. A painted picture of a green boar being twisted in the hands of a leering giant on a wooden board. A strange sign for a strangely named inn. The whole building looked relatively new, without the presence or signs of age of a structure that has long stood the test of the years. To the right of the building was a small one-story construction made of the local white stone with a flat roof. Its chimney billowed out a small column of grey smoke; the baths of the establishment, no doubt. On the left of the building was an empty stable that had seen better days.

We entered the main establishment through a sturdy door, well worn with use, to be greeted by the sight of a thin man behind a wooden counter, polishing a horn stein. The ceiling was low, and the smell of spilled ale and recently cleaned vomit hung stale in the air. In the corner, two bearded and turbaned men sat around a glass pipe, taking turns sharing puffs of bluish smoke that twirled up toward the ceiling. At a small wooden table, a group of shifty-looking, rat-eyed men sat, playing what looked like this world’s version of cards. Dog-eared cards featuring unknown gods, monsters, and symbols were exchanged, placed, and exchanged again. The player's expressions changed from carefully controlled neutrality to barely concealed drunken consternation, depending on their fortunes.

The willowy male behind the bar looked at us with eyes the color of warm chocolate. He was somewhere in his middle years, his once black hair now grown lank and thin. Narrow lips under a wide nose pursed as he nodded to us in the universal manner of all bartenders, somewhere between deference and amicability, before asking, “What can I get you, folks?”

In a certain light, you could say he had a vague resemblance to the guard at the gate, but the association was tenuous at best. I was just about to speak, but Elwin beat me to it, “Innkeep, we are looking for room, a private room, if you please, for the three of us.”

“That’ll be twenty bronze pieces a night for the lot of you, twenty-three if folk be needing to use the baths, which I highly suggest you do. You have the look of the road long traveled about you. Oh, and another bronze if you be needing your clothes to be laundered. Leave’em with the boy, good lad he is. Three coppers for a meal when we’re serving. Also, the name’s Taper Athinad, at your service,” he said perfunctorily while cleaning an array of mugs and steins in front of him.

As he detailed the prices, my mind was performing some rough calculations. My time in the local jail, eavesdropping on the conversations of the market, had given me a rough idea of the value of the coins. Also, as I spun the numbers in my mind, I made sure to study the innkeeper, searching his face for the signs of treachery, but found none.

Luckily, this world’s currency was easy to get a handle on as it followed a simple decimal system. Having observed a woman buying two apples for a copper at the marketplace, in terms of buying power, I estimated that a single copper coin was worth approximately one pound. Ten coppers were then worth a bronze piece, and ten bronze coins were, in turn, worth a single silver piece, with ten silver pieces having the value of a rare gold coin.

I ran a finger over one of the silver coins as I was making my decision. On one side was the stylized version of a flowing wave, and on the other was a bust profile of an ancient woman. Making a quick study of the profile, I noticed a terrifying similarity to the goddess Avaria.

Like all of the coins, the edges of this one were smooth and uniform. Next to it, was a similar-sized silver coin with a hole punched through its center. This was a ‘half-silver’ piece. Like the silver coins, there were other denominations with a hole punched through their centers in both copper and bronze. I had yet to encounter a half-gold piece.

Unlike the bronze and copper pieces, along the rim of both silver pieces was some script that I could not yet decipher, written in a language I had not yet encountered.

As my mind played about with the numbers, so too did it play around with the idea of casting a spell of Identification on the unknown script. However, idle curiosity was not a good enough cause to spend precious Mana.

Forcing myself to relax a little, I concluded that, overall, the inn’s prices were reasonable, at least by my very rough estimations. It was not worth looking for other accommodation. This place would serve our needs fine. The innkeeper was probably not out to get us. We had never met before. These thoughts warred with my paranoia until I was finally able to get myself under control. What would be, would be; a mantra against the building pressure in my head. It was time to take a chance, the dice demanded to be rolled.

We entered the baths proper through sliding doors. An old man, remarkably muscled, with jagged scars from past battles running across his body, rinsed himself before entering one of three large pools. Copying the old man’s example, we cleaned ourselves as best we could with cheap coarse soap. As we scrubbed and scrubbed, the grime from our long travels slowly sloughed off of us and, once we felt we were suitably clean, we entered one of the tepid pools. The feeling of embarrassment from my nakedness had long been scoured from me, but a sense of vulnerability remained, so Elwin and I would have to make quick our little bathing session.

For a moment I remembered Harun, comparing him to the old man. They were of a similar build, but would he pose a similar challenge? I played out the murderous scenario in my mind and was even tempted to use an Identify spell on him, but finally decided against it. I needed to leave here and return to the relative safety of the room without incident.

Although a hurried one, the bath did wonders for my morale, and Elwin looked supremely happy to be clean again. Scratching behind his back, he turned and said in a cheerful voice, “I always do enjoy my weekly bath.”

I did my best to hide my grimace. Hygiene standards in this world were obviously not comparable to my own. Sighing, I simply smiled back at the Rogue, before slipping into the warm water. Slowly, ever so slowly, the warm water began to soothe the myriad of aches and pains of my recent travails in a way that magic could not replicate. Looking at my body, I noticed that, despite receiving a number of wounds, I did not have a single scar on my body. I touched the place where my slave brand should have been, only to find smooth skin.

Also, despite being at more than twice the strength I was initially, there were no significant changes to my physique. I had the same very average-looking body that I always had. A quick gander at Elwin’s body showed a surprising lack of scars for a man of his trade, but an intricate tattoo of an unknown design ran down from the nape of his neck along the line of his back. A few moments later, I realized that my magic had probably gotten rid of any of his scars along with the slave brand.

A little wary of not conforming with local customs and seduced by the relaxing pace, we moved into a hot drying room, adjacent to the baths. We sat on a wooden bench in a room reminiscent of a sauna, waiting to dry. I didn’t try to engage Elwin in any conversation, and simply replied to his attempts at conversation with noncommittal grunts and half-thought-out replies. Once dry, we donned our loaned robes and went back to our room, where we relieved Kidu of his watch. Elwin, volunteering to take up the arduous duty of having another bath, quickly poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher by the bed, before returning to baths with the wildman.

Sitting on the bed, I finally had a little time to get my ducks in a row. I had traveled so far, ironically, only to return to the place of my imprisonment, albeit as a free man. I needed to get out of this city, sooner rather than later, once we acquired sufficient resources. There still remained a chance, no matter how slim, that someone might recognize me. Perhaps that would never come to pass; after all, I was probably presumed dead after the cave-in. Still, I wanted to leave this barbaric city and go somewhere relatively more civilized. But to do that I needed more cold hard cash.

My short-term goals clear to me now, I spent an indeterminable amount of time running over a few things that I had learned. The names of the creatures I had encountered, the people I had met, my brush with death... Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Sir, your laundry is done,” piped a squeaky voice that had shifted from a lower octave, in the manner of adolescents just into their change.

That was pretty fast service, suspiciously so, I thought to myself as I got to my feet. Opening the door, I stiffened at the sight in front of me. The owner of the voice was the boy from before, but for a moment I saw Jongshoi’s face superimposed over his features. Reflexively, I began to reach for a weapon that was not there, before catching myself, and instead reached for the purse at my waist. Pressing him three copper coins, I collected our cleaned laundry. He accepted the money gratefully and took Kidu’s dirty garments that the Hunter had left outside the door. The boy was constantly bowing through all of this, until, annoyed, I finally closed the door in his face.

Just as I was about to return alone to my thoughts, I was again interrupted, as my pair of companions burst into the room. It seemed that I had forgotten to lock the door.

“I see all our belongings are still here, congratulations on being able to stay awake!” joked Elwin as he plopped down next to me on the large bed.

Kidu seemed a little more relaxed than usual, the bath having miraculously healed some of the shadows behind his eyes, a feat that even my divine magic could not. More significantly, he had hacked off his beard, and the difference was rather astonishing. His features remained untamed and rugged, but he looked less like a primal thing and more like a civilized man.

“Why did you decide to do away with your beard, Kidu?” I asked on a whim, hoping that I had not committed a social faux pas.

“A man grown in the north cuts his beard after a time of great shame or loss. This is how it has always been. It was I who led the raiding party south, and so the fault is with me. This is a small thing to remind myself that I am an unbearded youth,” replied Kidu, his usually loud voice unnaturally quiet before he added, “But I feel a little better now after that cleansing. We, too, have hot springs in the north where the tribe gathers in the coldest of winters. This was most welcome,” he stated, simply to change the subject before he, too, lay down, and within moments, began to snore. I touched my own face in sympathetic reaction, noting that despite the amount of time I had spent in this world, there was no evidence of even a hint of stubble.

“The inn’s serving in an hour, wake us up a little before then,” requested Elwin, yawning almost exaggeratedly and cutting off any further conversation, “So sleepy...”

It would seem I was to take this watch, so I began to devise plans for future experimentation. I still needed to try out a spell or two in controlled conditions, and for that, I would need test subjects. Dark whispers intruded upon my ruminations and a jarring and irrational thought played across my mind, was the boy from the bath spying on our group? I played with an equally irrational idea of experimenting on the boy, but thought better of using somebody too close to my place of lodging. Thankfully, I was in a city full of strangers I cared little for.