Warring Eras of Eartha: Ironhearts

Chapter 1: The Inn-side

Agh, here it is again. The heaviness, the unwillingness to open one's eyes and let bliss be slipped away from one's grasps after enjoying its company for a long enough time.

In short, it's time to wake up again, if whoever bloke is shaking me hasn't confirmed that to me already.

"Come on! Does my ride look like a fancy inn to ya?" Yells a man with a pretty gruff voice, I'm guessing he's the one jerking me too, which sounds pretty wrong, now that my much more conscious mind thinks about it.

"We're already here?" I asked before yawning and stretching, the satisfying cracks and pops are something to be thankful for when waking up, at least.

"Already!? We've been here for a while now! Were you not even aware that the gate guards thought you were dead? I could've wasted half my life in one of their rusted cages if you weren't so talkative in your sleep, despite how dead-like you slumber!" He says before taking a huge bite from a chicken leg that I failed to notice until now, I still feel groggy, but I do have enough presence of mind to hope that he didn't touch me with those greasy hands.

"Okay, how much was the ride?" I asked, gesturing at the rickety contraption he calls a cart, dragged by a big but old oxen which is currently chewing on a piece of bone.

It's easier to piece it together than to comprehend why this old man fed his animal another animal that is roasted, which is why I won't even broach the topic.

"How much!? Boy, I'm pretty sure that I'M the one repaying you here for what you did for us earlier!" The old man burst out, almost as if my question was made on foolish grounds.

"Oh are you now? Well, I myself am pretty sure that what I did to those brigands were repaid in kind by my stay in your cottage, that deed did not achieve me a free ride in your humble carriage." I replied while rummaging around my stuff, which is stuffed quite haphazardly inside a traveller's pack, in an attempt to locate my coin purse.

"Bah! You high-bloods really love flaunting your wealth every time you get the chance!" He throws his arm up towards the skies in mock complaint.

I ignored him and grabbed my coin purse which happens to be in my pocket, don't know how I missed that but oh well.

"So, how much then?" I asked, still unsure as to the amount I owe him.

"If you insist." He sighs, counting with one hand, upon realizing that he doesn't have enough finger in that limb he switches his attention to his chicken-bearing arm.

He looked at the food item for a while, as if it revealed something to him that he has to mull over for a time, then he looked towards the sky as if to pray for confirmation from whoever he worships up there if what he saw was divine knowledge. Then he looks at me.

"I think fifteen schillings would do." He says, lacking in both confidence and doubt.

"Fine, I suppose." I replied with the same enthusiasm he has.

I paid him the said amount of schillings, the currency of this kingdom. I was not sure at first if it is worth the same here as the previous place I was in since some regions were allowed to mint their own coins, but he just pocketed it after counting without a fuss.

"Well, guess this is farewell." He offers his greasy hand for me to shake it, but I just looked at him blankly. "Ahahaha! Just messin' with ya." He bellows before offering his other hand, which he probably didn't want to end up becoming slippery since he's using it to tug at the reins of his animal.

"So long then, you wrinkly jester." I said jokingly, "Who knows? Perhaps fortune might deem it a necessity for our paths to cross again."

"Bah! Don't be involving destiny here after insulting me! But if I ever hear that a red-headed brownface is within the localities I'd be sure to ask if the bugger happens to be named Asheon Skybred!"

He left me standing in front of an inn named "The Not so Clever Fox", I wonder how many weary travellers ever cared to read creative names like these, guess it helps to not be mistaken for another establishment.

I stared at the intricately designed sign, smiling at the obvious tale it wishes to tell, its stylized pattern is supposed to depict a vine of grapes, while just below it is the equally artistic figure of a fox trying to claw its way up the white-washed wall, leaving claw marks as a testament to its every attempt.

The claw marks were real, upon closer inspection. That's interesting, I guess. Wonder if it is an actual fox, or just some random animal in the street not turned into something that sates either one's sanity or appetite yet.

Anyway, I think I've exhausted everything that can distract me in this wall.

I entered the establishment, the hinges of the door made the creaking sound everyone knows and loves.

Inn-side is far from an attractive site for wayward souls, for this time of the day almost everyone is tired and craves for a relaxing carousal, but not too exhausted that their mind, body, and soul is begging them for a rest.

Two ladies are busy attending to everyone's needs, between the age difference and the similarity in their features it wasn't difficult to conclude that their relationship is familial.

They both have the same coal-black hair, but the younger one has her's braided with some strands made to look like a tiara of sorts, while the older one just has her's in a long ponytail that reaches the lowest part of her back. They have almost the same facial features, but one has the look of someone that hasn't been beaten into cynicism by life yet.

The older one noticed me and approached, but stopped upon noticing the younger one conversing with one of the more inebriated customers.

"Sir, you really should stop before my mother takes notice." The young one says to the intoxicated man who looks slightly older than she is.

"Wut? Why though? Aren't you old enough to marry? Ain't it proper to eat the ripened fruit before it ages too much?" The drunken buffoon slurs, droplets of drool pooling below him.

How drunk do you have to be to not feel pain? I tried to think of an answer as the older one approaches the scene after snatching a knife out of the hands of a customer who was about to eat the piece of meat impaled by it. The guy wasn't angry about it though, instead, he elbows the person next to him and points at the aged lady with a smirk.

Other people are also taking notice, and those that weren't are being inundated by their acquaintances, what matter of spectacle is about to commence that warrants this much interest, I wonder?

"Sir, please, you have to let me go." The younger one panics.

"Never! If you love someone you do not let them go!" The drunkard yells with conviction, I would have thought it impressive if only he wasn't forming a lake of saliva under him.

That's a bit borderline obsession or possessiveness, honestly...

"Well, aren't you a sarding poet?" The much-matured lady says, sending the piece of meat on the dining knife flying with a flourish.

The door opened behind me just as the drunk man gets his face closely acquainted with the stained table he and his buddies were dining upon.

"Well, guess this is a fine way to get introduced to our resident warlike tavern owner." The old guy who entered says.

I glanced at the old guy, who's either part of the local law enforcement body or a lords' retinue, he could be the rebellious type which does not follow the law forbidding civilians from bearing arms, but since he is wearing an expensive maille hauberk covered by a yellow and green cloak he is quite possibly one of the local lord's men.

"Is anyone going to stop her?" I asked casually, was not really gonna plan to do it myself, but I think a law enforcer would have only one answer in this case, an honest one at least.

The only person trying to stop her is her younger version, meanwhile, all the other customers are just laughing their liquor-filled guts out.

"Hey! Isn't bearing a weapon unlawful!?" One of the intoxicated loverboy's friends says as the warlike inn owner wields the knife with the intent of being lethal.

"And when in God's bleeding side was a dining knife considered a weapon!?" She responds and proceeded to chokeslam the wasted sod on the table then stab the said knife into the piece of furniture to the hilt, near the guy's nether pillar, "After all. Ain't I using this utensil as intended right? To cut off pieces of meat!"

"Agh. This is getting kinda dangerous." The old man beside me mutters before stepping forward.

"Alright, missus Peddler, I think that's about enough." He says with a hint of authority in his tone.

The woman stared daggers at him, "I told you to never call me that, you old crone."

"Ah! My apologies! I meant missus Cherisha Yvansdottir!" The old man laughs jovially.

Miss Cherisha simply sighed and said something under her breath, which I seem to have taken an unconscious interest upon which then enabled my ability to increase my hearing range as well as discerning of sounds, only to discover that she simply just calling him a saggy-faced graybeard.

Since my hearing has been amplified, I heard tidbits of conversation from others as well.

"Still do not believe me that she used to be a swordmaiden?"

"Whelp, that's Cherisha the 'Wrathful Sword' for you."

"Wait! You're saying that she fell victim for that God-cursed donkey of a man?"

That was all I could gather before the old man reminded me that I'm blocking the doorway, where Cherisha is heading.

After throwing out the drunk womanizer, and waving off the apologies of his buddies, Cherisha turns her attention to me.

"So, what have you come here for? Food? Shelter? Or perhaps both?"

"Or maybe for some company, eh?" The old man elbows me with a sly smile.

"Just take a seat, you walking scrote with a mouth." Cherisha snaps at him.

"Ah, by the bleeding side! That hurts!" The old man shouts in mock pain before doing as he was told.

"Ignore that old bleeding heart."

"Okay. So, I need a room and I will also be eating later." I said, not wanting to stand here longer than I should have.

"Let's add you in the ledger then." She motions for me to follow.

Everything was back to normal, by the bleeding wound, it even seems that what happened was a regular occurrence.

"Though it is optional, it'll be beneficial if you give me your full name, age, and if you're married." She says as a book is placed on the top of the counter in front of me.

"Why is knowing my age beneficial?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Because missus Cherisha has this idea that, at a certain age, men will possess an unsatiable stiffness that compels them to impale every cracks and chasm within their reach!" Bellows scrote man.

"Just ignore him and write down the informations you're willing to divulge."

I wrote down everything she needs that I'm willing to provide.

Name: Asheon de la Leon et Gladium

Age: 21 stages old

Married: No

"Huh, you're a long way from home, young man." She comments after reading my information.

"You've been to Ibarria?" I inquired.

"Not really, but I've had some customers from Astureon and Castiel." She answered.

"Huh. So, which room am I occupying?" I asked, remembering that I'm not fond of standing for longer than needed.

"The room on this key." She tells me, offering a key.

When I tried to take it, she retracts it out of nowhere.

"Don't bother any of the girls, okay?" She says it almost like a warning.

"Uhmm..."

"Don't act like you weren't thinking about it." She says it as if that was the case.

"Well, I'll... think about it." I said with a smirk.

I heard someone giggle behind me, meanwhile in front of me is a disappointed Cherisha.

"I'm sorry mother, but your face..." She wasn't able to finish what she was saying as she was unable to contain her mirth.

"Just leave, or do you need help with your baggage?" Cherisha's were slightly muffled by her palm on her face.

"No need, I can handle... the rest." I said with a playful shrug and wink.

The hand on her face immediately began to clutch it, so I took my leave before the hand becomes a fist, leaving behind an irritated Cherisha and her giggling daughter.

"Chasandra, stop laughing at that buffoon."

"It's not his jokes, but your face that's making it hard not to!" She responds before she was overtaken by giggling again.

I was walking past a myriad of faces with the look of delight on their faces as they stare at an obvious someone behind me. And suddenly their blissful faces became blank, and before I could turn to know why, a scream pierced the air.

"Is anybody here wondering how this fork feels in an eyeball!" Screamed Cherisha, almost like a warcry, as she waves around a fork.

Everyone became fixated on the face of their tables before I even reached the stairs, I was climbing my way towards the second floor when the doors opened again and a female voice spoke.

"Oh my! What matter of commotion are you causing now, daughter of Yvan?" She says, I do not know why, but I detect a hint of disdain in her voice.

"How lovely of you to be an addition to my wonderful day." Was the last thing I heard, coming from Cherisha before I exited within range of eavesdrop.

The room upstairs didn't receive much of a designer's touch, but the decorations suffice, consisting of potted plants that are quite possibly common in the localities, and the red carpet with yellow lines that dances across each other on the flanks of it. There's also the grapevine design on the white-washed walls, with each door being bordered by the grape-bearing part of the vines. The doors were polished into a shine recently, the engraved fox on each of it is still trying to reach for the grapes on the top which were the furthest, even though there were nearer ones on both sides.

Not the smartest fox around, it seems.

Oh wait...

With that enlightening revelation, I stood in front of the room with the number six on the back of the fox.

There's nothing special about the room here, not a bad thing actually, considering that being special isn't only within the spectrum of being better. There's a single bed big enough to sleep on and wake up on the floor when you do the wrong way of turning to your side during your sleep. There is a window the size of which you can fit some of your hand through, and pushing your luck you might not be able to pull out what you put in. There is also a desk, chair, and candle stand combination some paces away from the bed, with the furniture you will write upon also doubling as a place you can put stuff in thanks to the drawers under it, though the size is limited since the users legs also need to fit under it.

Aside from those, there isn't really much to say, there's no rodents or bugs, I guess that's a plus considering the places I needed to sleep in as of late. And there are no cracks on the wall, and upon tapping it lightly, it seems to be of sufficient thickness as well so eavesdroppers will have to find someplace else to press their ears upon.

Well, I guess that's that, time to contact the ɕεŋรσгεɖ...

The ɕεŋรσгεɖ...

Damn, I can never get over how they managed to disable me from saying ɕεŋรσгεɖ, I can't even think of it in my head. ɕεŋรσгεɖ, ɕεŋรσгεɖ, ɕεŋรσгεɖ.

Enough of that, time to call them.

A pop-up opened, using my mind I navigated through the series of branching options it offered, among the myriad of choices I narrowed my attention to call, and picked my contact, the ɕεŋรσгεɖ.

There wasn't any sound, but there are dots in front of me, alternating between being only one, then two, then three, then repeating in a seemingly never-ending cycle.

Several cycles of existing and de-existing dots later, the face of a familiar person appeared before my eyes, the blue-ish hue of her features views me with pensiveness.

"Uhmm... what did I do wrong?" I asked after some moments of awkward silence.

"I'm not certain of what, only that you did do something." The floating blue head responded.

"Is there some sort of punishment forthcoming, Cessha?" I inquired, the curiosity and lack of fear in my voice made her left eye twitch.

"I'm gonna have to consult my superiors regarding that, but for now, what is your call for?" She responded, the slight distortion and the fact that we aren't exactly face-to-face in the physical sense makes it hard for me to discern her current feelings, not that I think it really matters with someone like her.

"Welp, if that's that then..." I cleared my throat, even though I do not intend to use my voice to answer her as using my mind to communicate is much more secure, "Time Treader Ash of Skybred, reporting, current location, within the euroea continent, in the island of albiana within the kingdom Eangsland, in a trade city called Breighton, currently resting in an inn called the 'The Not so Cunning Fox'."

"Copy that Treader." She says, whatever misgivings she has with her previous conversation is masked completely by her professionalism, "Stand by as the Librarian scans for important historic events surrounding your location."

It was some wait, but waiting is nothing new for a time treader anyway.

"The Librarias shows no Influencial Occurance within your Effective Radius of Disruption, even so, it is imperative that you still complete your mission with utmost discretion." She answers after some time.

"Aye aye."

"And be advised, that establishment you're staying in, 'The not so Cunning Fox', is believed to have been burned to the ground during your current stage." Cessha informs me, I immediately stifled a sigh, as I already know what that means.

"Will it happen anytime soon?" I asked.

"According to compounded sources, it will happen in stage 1065, round of Septemio, turn 23." She answers.

Agh, bloody my sides, today's turn 22, isn't it?