Blood and Steel

Part 63 "Odd Jobs"

Hey, Missy! Another round here, please," a drunken man slurred, his hands wandering to cop a feel of the tavern maid's hips. She recoiled, shooting him a disgusted look.

"Keep your hands to yourself, mister," she hissed as she set the drink on the table.

"How many times do I have to remind you not to do that, Royce?" the tavern owner barked from behind the counter. "Keep it up, and I'll put you on the blacklist."

"Relax, I was only joking," Royce tried to defuse the situation. "And it's not like there's anyone else here. I'm the one keeping you in business after that incident with the Iron Legion knights."

"Knights?!" The tavern owner scoffed. "They were thugs! Parasites! They only came here for free drinks, claiming it was for their services. Hah! I bet they couldn't even take down a rabid dog."

"Calm down," the tavern maid interjected, sweeping the floor. "You don't want people outside to hear you."

"Then let them come!" The tavern owner slammed his fist on the counter. "Come, take what you want! I don't have anything left! Come and punish me!"

In the midst of his outburst, the door creaked open. A tall, hooded man entered, pausing at the sight of the tavern owner with his arms spread wide, shouting.

"Wow... I appreciate the enthusiasm," the visitor remarked, clasping his hands and taking a deep breath. "But I'm not into that kind of thing... much less swing that way......"

"A customer! Welcome to the Hardwater Tavern!!" The tavern owner's face brightened. Business had been slow, and seeing a new face was a rare boost.

The tavern maid and Royce, however, eyed the newcomer warily. He wore dark, hooded clothing, his face obscured by a black fabric mask. Only his eyes were visible, one marked by a scar.

Vorgen, ignoring the wary eyes from the other two, then sat down by the counter, letting the tavern owner serve him with a mug of beer. He uncovered the lower part of his mask and gulped down the drink whilst also taking the time to look around.

The room was dimly lit by a few sputtering candles and a small, struggling fire in the hearth. Shadows clung to the corners, making the space feel cramped and slightly oppressive. Rough-hewn wooden tables and benches filled the room, their surfaces scarred and stained from years of use.

The floor was made of uneven, worn stone slabs, covered in a thin layer of straw and dirt. It had a damp, musty smell that hinted at long-neglected cleaning. A rickety bar stood against one wall, manned by the owner who moved slowly, filling tankards with a disinterested air. The bar's surface was sticky, and the shelves behind it held a sparse collection of bottles and mugs.

What really caught Vorgen's eyes however was, Near the entrance, a small, splintered board was tacked to the wall, holding a few tattered notices that flapped slightly in the draft from the door. The notices were old and yellowing, with smudged ink and frayed edges. Job offers, announcements, and pleas for help were sparsely posted.

"Mind if i take a look at those?" Vorgen asked the tavernkeeper, gesturing at the message board. "Those are available right?"

"Of course. Have a look. That's what most visitors do here. They just post whatever they want and leave," the owner sighed at the last part but shrugged it off with a smile. "But they're mostly low-paying jobs. Ones with low risks. And don't worry about tearing or taking them with you... no one ever does them anyway. They've been stuck there for ages!"

With that in mind, Vorgen enthusiastically scanned through and tore a couple of parchments from the board, Folding them and put them inside his satchel.