Who ya gonna call? - Hermitcraft Phasmophobia AU

- Chapter 11 - Maybe this isn't the best idea

guys i have so much hw it isnt even funny but i am not doing hw in the morning so school can fuck themselves

"Ok, So you need a room... for free?"

"Yes, please sir"

The Innkeeper looked up from his book at the Bard infront of him. Searching his face for any sarcasm in his face. Finding none, he resonded.

"No can do. 10 Gold for a room is the cheapest we have."

"Please, Just for a night! I can preform this evening if you just let me have a room"

"No, I said before and I will say it again. I am not giving you a free room. We are very busy tonight anyway."

The Bard was about to continue, plead again, but the people behind him were quickly getting annoyed. Soon pushing him out of the way and going to the front to get their own rooms.

He hit the floor, landing hard on the wooden tiles. That was gonna leave a bruise. He took this as a calling for him to leave and look for somewhere else.

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Rain hit the cobbled streets hard, there was barely any hiding from the horrible weather outside. So as the rain soaked into his woolen clothes, the Bard gave up on trying to stay dry and warm. He could fix that later, what he needed was a roof over his head and something to keep him warm. Both things he did not have. So now he had to improvise.

He was good at improvising. That was his talent. He was a Bard after all, words were his expertise. Definitely not surving out in the cold, or the wilderness.

The streets were lined with Inns and Taverns, but no one had room. Not from someone like him with only 5 Gold to his name.

He couldn't use that up. He needed that to create his first book. Well technically he needed a lot more gold for that, but if he saved it up it would count, right?

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He had tried everywhere. He tried multiple inviting looking houses, none of the people inside them were very inviting. He got shouted at. A lot.

The stables kind of worked. He could use the hay to keep him warm and there was in fact a roof over his head. The two things he needed, but by god the smell.

It was strong, incredibly strong. To the point he felt very lightheaded when he fisrt smelt it. Chances are he would pass out. Turns out horse manure gets very stinky when there is loads of it.

His only other idea was to break in somewhere. Somewhere big, where no one could find him easily. Somewhere that he could stay out of everyones way.

His one and only idea. The castle.

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A castle is surprising easy to get into... One of the far sides had a ladder which no knights were guarding. He simply climed it and ended up on top of the battlements.

He ducked into the nearest tower and sat against a wall, trying to regain his breath. The room he was in was dimmly lit, only from the arrow loops where the murky daylight from outside was slowly fading.

He could hear people in the bailey from here, shouting and running about. It was around this time the barbican wall would shut and any ongoing jobs would be stopped for the night.

He sat for a while, the cold from the stone seeping into his bones. After what he would think was half an hour, a loud noise of metal groaning began. The portcullis was closing.

The voices died down and silence ensued. Only the occasional shout of a Royal Guard cut the quiet air.

Pretty soon it was time for the Bards next move. He knew that soon the nightshift guards would take their positions. There was no dought they would be walking right past him.