Swords of Power

Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Welcome to the MotherTree Tavern. Take a seat wherever you like and I'll be right with you." Bucklin welcomed the guest with a dimpled smile.

The couple was out of towners, most likely visiting the valley plains during the warm summer months. Bucklin could tell they were a wealthy pair by the decadent jewelry around their neck and two rings resting on each of their hands, fine bands of gold with a dark blue square gem centered on the man's ring, and a pink oval diamond for the lady. The two nodded at Bucklin with understanding and proceeded to make their way to the back corner of the tavern, which had a square window over the booth. Through the window, they could see the large orchard made up of several types of apple trees, including Crabapple for your sour lovers and Honeycrisp and Gala for the sweeter taste. These apples aren't typically for eating but are usually used in the apple-flavored ales served at the Mothertree, while those are a household favorite they aren't the only beverages served at the tavern. The Mothertree also has a collection of grape and blueberry wines, homegrown in the vineyard section outback.

"Are you interested in anything to drink?' Asked Bucklin.

"Yes, I think that I would like to try the Crabapple ale, and my wife would like the Blueberry wine." The man replied. Setting down the paper menu.

"Oh, and one slice of rhubarb pie, if you don't mind." Smiled, the lady.

"No problem, madam," Bucklin replied.

Bucklin tried to be as gracious as possible, but he was not well taught in the higher way of mannerisms. But his mother and father preached an undeniable respectfulness, especially when they are the owners of this fine establishment, or instead, the unique raggedy building. The Mothertree was an old place passed down two generations, along with the orchard that has tripled in size over the years. The floors were a brown stain, and multiple boards were raised slightly after years of use and would creak when stepped on. The tables and booths reflected the colors of fruits that were used to make the varied drinks of the tavern and different shades of red, green, blue, and purple cloth were scattered across the Motheretree. Blanketing tables and seats with a fruitful arrangement of colors. Wooden and glass-like figures dangling from the ceiling would sparkle like nighttime stars when the light struck them just right. Of course, this was all just used as a tourist attraction for out-of-town visitors, locals do not care for the elegant taste of the multiple colors but genuinely care for the intoxicating booze that flows from the tap.

"I need a sour, blue wine, and some rhubarb pie." Bucklin barked back to the kitchen in a demanding voice but playful attempt.

"Hold the tone boy." Replied a grumpy old man. " And that'll be right out..."

The old man standing behind the counter and through the small rectangle window was no other than Bucklin's father. He was a large man, but not considered big just because of the ale belly he has acquired over the years. No, he was also brawny and tall, so tall that he would need to duck every time he exited the kitchen. He also could be identified by the missing three fingers on his left hand, the appendages were cut off when he was just a young man, a low-ranking soldier in the war but spent most of his days preparing meals and drinks for the front line and noble captains. But one day their squad was ambushed from behind and during the raid, Buckshire grabbed a man's sword who intended to decapitate him. His raw size was nothing to overlook, even if his swordsmanship was lacking the quality of other warriors. He lost his fingers by his enemy's blade, but he managed to drive his cooking knife deep into the scoundrel's chest.

When he returned from the war he met Bucklin's mother, Eileen. Her family were the owners of the Mothertree and hired him due to his exceptional brewing abilities, the tavern was never built for a man of his size and when he took over after many years he decided to keep the establishment the way it was. Falling in love with its quaint little charm and the daughter who served there, they soon became wedded and eventually produced a son named Bucklin.