There was a collective shrug, and a general muttered agreement. The evening was growing colder and the idea of getting inside into the warmth had an attraction. Wakesfield grabbed a clean vest from his trunk and placed it on his chest, covering the worst of the tears and bloodstains in his shirt. They followed the dwarf up the small set of steps into the building proper, Fuath carrying their used plates and utensils.
The din of the room fell slightly as they entered, but quickly rose back up. Naran was surprised by that, though she didn’t show it. They were an unusual group, most of them still wearing clothes stained with a combination of their own blood or weevil gore, and the priest was surely an unusual sight anywhere. A few took a longer look than necessary at Wakesfield’s burnt skin or herself and Winifred, but Felix and Fuath might as well have not been there for all the attention that was paid to them. The dwarf lead the way into the busy room, pushing through packed tables and moving aside for workers ferrying glasses and plates to and fro, delivering the full and collecting the empty. He bent to speak briefly with a trio of goblins, small brownish-green creatures huddled at a corner table. There was a brief glimmer of metal in a handshake and the trio departed, freeing the table for them. One of the three nodded at the five as they headed for the door, happily jingling a fist at his waist.
They managed to squeeze in to the small table meant for four at most, as the dwarf Flint tried to catch the attention of a worker, many of whom gave him annoyed looks of familiarity. Naran sat back and watched the room. Fuath was still holding the used plates, looking for somewhere he could put them. Felix was happily patting some dried leaves into a pipe he had produced from somewhere, eager to add to the haze of smoke in the room. Winifred was looking over a paper menu that had been left on the table with a wrinkle of disgust around her nose, and Wakesfield sat quietly polishing his glasses. Evidently they were happy to let the dwarf take the lead for now, simply enjoying the warmth. Naran turned her head to watch the room as a worker finally approached the table and took drink orders (a pint of the house ale for Flint, Felix and Fuath, a brandy for Winifred and a hot tea for Wakesfield, which Naran added a second of for herself).
There was a constant movement to the crowd, always a flow in and out. It was a stopping yard after all, serving mostly those that were on tight deadlines or had just arrived after long travels. Most were interested in nothing more than a quick refuel for them and their animals before they set out or retired elsewhere, the close proximity to the walls guaranteeing a regular clientele. The crowd was more varied and diverse than the crowds she had seen, mostly non-native traders and drivers she assumed. There were still a good many humans, clothing and hair styles suggesting many different places of origin. Tall and broad orcs sat next to short and broad dwarfs being careful to ignore each other, though at a table across the room an orc sat with a dwarf and a human, the three laughing uproariously together. The three goblins had found new seats, fresh pint mugs in front of each of them as they sat at the bar. She saw a few very large men with crude wooden clubs on their belts leaning against the walls in a few sections, no doubt the reason there was no trouble to be seen and the workers were able to move about the packed room without issue.
The drinks arrived, the worker taking the pile of plates from Fuath as she left, and the dwarf immediately raised his mug to them, gold glittering in his smile. “Here’s to my new personal heroes!” He ignored the silence and lack of return of the toast and downed a healthy portion of the mug in one go. “So, what brings five great warriors to our city of not to join the glorious ranks of the House?” He looked around expectedly, unbothered by the lack of response. “What about you grey beard?” he asked, gesturing with his mug at Felix.
Felix gave a small puff of his pipe and blew a ring before answering. “Lookin’ for someone is all, last I got is they in the city.”
The dwarf nodded, taking another gulp of his pint. “The city’s best place to find anyone or anything on the continent. And you, uniform?” he asked, gesturing at Winifred with the mug and sloshing a few drops onto the table.
Winifred paused in sniffing the brandy glass with a displeased look and gave him an unpleasant one. “If you must know, I’m told I must register here in the city to get anything done. I’m an arrival, or so I’m told, and apparently I need to prove I exist.”
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“Ohhhh, exotic” said the dwarf after another gulp, holding his mug up for to catch a workers attention for a refill. “Haven’t met many of you types. He swung the empty mug around at Fuath, who was radiating amusement. “What about you, man of wood and stone?”
Fuath clapped excitedly as he answered, slightly bouncing in his chair. “I am Brother Fuath, I am here to present myself to the main temple of the Mourning One to be properly ordained!”
“Oof, always nervous around priests, makes me think I’m guilty of something!” said the dwarf with a laugh. “Well glasses?” he asked, swinging around to look at Wakesfield gently removing the tea bag from the cup before him. “Here to pray for healing of those burns?”
Wakesfield shot a withering look at the dwarf, holding the cup just before his mouth. “Collecting on a bounty and restocking” came the curt reply. The voice remained almost as monotone as always, but there was a hint of anger there.
Flint threw up an apologetic gesture as a fresh drink was put in front of him. “No insult meant friend, no insult at all.” He picked up the full pint mug and carefully gestured at Naran before slurping at the foamy head. “And of course, there’s you strong lady. What brings you here from somewhere presumably colder?”
Naran looked at him, her tea steeping before her on the table. She was sweating under her thick coat, the fur and leather that kept her comfortable in the mountains had proven a burden since she had descended proper, yet without it she grew too cold. She sat silent for a moment before answering, giving the question some consideration. “I suppose I am here to learn how the world works, and how I may help and protect my people.”
Flint nodded as he drank, and his voice sounded completely sincere and lacking his normal boisterousness as he replied “Now there’s a challenge indeed.” He put his mug down softly, and looked around with a smile. “So, a great many and varied reasons to be here. And good news, I know how to assist most of you!” He pulled a battered pack from his pockets and produced a bent and crooked cigarette, leaning forward to light it off a lantern set into the wall next to him. “The priest I can offer nothing but the chance to do some good, but for the rest of you, I can guarantee a way to make your lives better!” He swung the cigarette around, pointing at them in the order they had spoken. “Need to find someone? Access to one of the continent’s greatest information networks! Need to cut through the labyrinth of bureaucracy? An army of experts to get you what you need! Money and supplies? Warehouses of both! And for you,” he announced as swung around his cigarette to Naran, “all the information you could need, and the means to guarantee your peoples safety with the power of fame!”
He paused for a moment, his smile slightly fading at the lack of excitement or leaning-in interest apparent at the table, but forged on. “Of course I mean, recruitment into the House of Heroes! We can offer all that, and more, if you are strong and brave enough to prove yourselves! Which you five already have, so you’re a sure fit!”
There was a long silence, with Flint’s eyes darting around the table. It was broken by Wakesfield gently replacing an empty cup into its saucer and standing. “No thank you, any dangerous work I do is simply to pay for my actual work.”
Felix stood as well, his pint mug drained. “Reckon I’m too old for that. Besides, left violence behind a long time ago.”
Winifred stood as well, her glass mostly untouched. “I’m not being recruited anywhere until I know what’s worth being recruited by.”
Naran stood, her cup still steaming untouched. “Thank you, but I fear you misunderstand my needs.”
Fuath looked around and stood as well after a moment, radiating a quiet disappointment. “I, ah, I suppose I should be heading for the temple.”
Flint’s smile remained, but his eyes had lost a certain sparkle of confidence. “Oh.” he said quietly. He rummaged in his belt as he muttered to himself, and held out five pouches that clinked with the sound of coin plates. “At least take this, consider it a payment from the House. And if any of you change your mind…”
Wakesfield snatched a pouch, and strode out without a word. Winifred took a pouch, and turned to go, before turning back around with a furious embarrassed expression. “How do I reach the Merchants Guild headquarters please?” she asked, speaking rapidly with her ears reddening. After some quick directions she headed out.
Felix took a pouch, and tossed it up and down as he turned. “Good luck with the recruitin’, and thanks for the drinks.” He turned to Naran and Fuath, and shook each of their hands. “Was a pleasure to meet and fight alongside you both. Be well now.” He strode out with a carefree step.
Fuath gave a sigh, his shoulders shifting impressively as he did. “Thank you for the drink sir, may you be long unmourned.” He took a pouch, and bowed briefly to Naran before heading out.
Naran watched them go, and took a pouch. The dwarf still bore his smile, but she felt pity for the sad look in his eyes. “It was a good effort, I fear you misjudged our needs is all.” She clapped him on one shoulder, and headed out.
And so they each set out into the cool evening air, each with their own goals and tasks in mind.
