The Witching Hour

Chapter 21 - Remeyra

'Did we walk in circles, wizard?' I ask, my frustration palpable as we stand once again before the familiar inn. Our journey has proven far longer than I anticipated, and the last thing I need now is to confront amateur mistakes.

Gale shakes his head, his voice breathy from the day's travel and surprise at our predicament. 'No! I-... I don't think so.'

'I guess we'll have to stay the night and try again tomorrow,' I mutter through gritted teeth, biting back sharper words that threaten to escape. My patience wears thin, worn away by the unforeseen detour and the weight of our delayed mission.

So we approach the inn one more time. I push open the heavy wooden door, and the same lively atmosphere greets us once more. Cheerful patrons fill the room with their laughter and conversation, lively music from the bards fills the air, and the intoxicating aroma of ale mingles with the scent of roasted meat.

This time, there is no sight of the innkeeper. Instead, the young server girl flits about the room with remarkable speed, attending to patrons, pouring drinks, and delivering plates with practiced efficiency. It's almost comical how swiftly she moves, as if she's everywhere at once, managing the bustling inn single-handedly.

In just a few moments, she materializes in front of us, a large toothy smile adorning her face. 'Welcome back!' she chirps brightly.

'I'd say it's nice to see you again, but I don't lie to pretty girls like you,' I retort with a touch of sarcasm. 'We need two rooms. Unfortunately.''

The girl's smile falters slightly. 'Ah... that'll be a problem,' she admits, her brow furrowing with concern. 'We're pretty packed. Let me check.'

With quick steps, she scurries across the room to fetch a stuffed tome, large enough to cover half of her body. She flips through its pages with nimble fingers, scanning the bookings with an air of determination. 'You're in luck,' she announces finally, her words tinged with a childish hope, as if each coin paid might somehow earn her a coveted reward. 'We have one room left.'

I let out a grunt of annoyance. 'Great,' I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I glance at Gale, who's trying—poorly—to conceal a smug smile. It's a smile that threatens to unleash a storm within me, one that makes me want to reach for my dagger and wipe it off his "pretty" face. But I reign in my frustration, resigning myself to accept the situation.

The girl hands us an old rusty key, its metal worn smooth from years of use. 'The loft, our best room. Couple's suite.' she says cheerfully, though I detect a hint of mischief in her voice. Of course, "best" likely translates to "most expensive" in this quaint establishment's lexicon.

I count out 70 gold coins from my pouch, each one a reminder of how this unexpected delay is costing us dearly. The weight of the coins in my hand feels heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as if each one represents a piece of my patience and purpose slipping away in the face of inexplicable circumstances.

I climb up the wonky stairs, my feet dragging wearily as I ascend to the damned room, while Gale follows shortly behind with an annoying spring in his step, as if he's enjoying this misfortune way too much.

I reach the door first and unlock it with the old rusty key, pushing it open to reveal a surprisingly spacious room. There's a slightly faded grandeur about it, with high ceilings and antique furnishings that seem to belong to another era. A large fancy wardrobe stands against one wall, and I spot an en-suite bathroom, shockingly equipped with running water—a luxury I hadn't expected in such a remote inn. A massive wooden desk sits near the window, overlooking the quaint courtyard below.

But my eyes fixate on the bed—a large double bed, taking up a significant portion of the room. I roll my eyes at the sight, already mentally calculating how this arrangement is going to work for the two of us.

Gale steps into the room beside me, surveying our temporary lodging with mild interest. 'Not bad,' he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I scoff. 'Yeah, not bad. The floor looks comfortable enough for you,' I retort, my tone laced with sarcasm.

Gale raises an eyebrow. 'How do you measure that?'

I shoot him a deadpan look. 'I'm not sharing that bed with you, that's how.'

'Why not?' He teases, stepping closer with a playful glint in his eyes. 'It's a couple's suite after all.'

I arch an eyebrow, not missing a beat. 'And we're anything but.'

Gale chuckles, undeterred. 'We could pretend.'

'You're insane. I'll be sleeping on the floor then.'

He steps closer, a playful glint in his eyes, his gaze somehow shifting, his eyes seem darker than before. 'Why suffer on the floor when you could enjoy the comfort of this fine bed?'

I scoff, crossing my arms. 'Make one more move and—'

'I'll have a dagger at my throat,' he mocks me, interrupting. 'Yes, yes, I know the deal.'

I shake my head, amused despite myself. 'I'll go take a bath. You figure this out.'

Entering the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lean against it, the relief of privacy washing over me. The room is surprisingly well-appointed, with a large tub filled with steaming water, a luxury that feels out of place in such a rustic inn. I undress quickly, hanging my clothes neatly on a hook, and sink into the hot water with a sigh of contentment. The warmth soothes my tired muscles, easing the tension that has been building throughout our journey.

My thoughts inevitably turn to our impending journey towards Baldur's Gate. Tomorrow is crucial; I have to confront Loroakan, whose life I've vowed to end. The image of him in his tower, oblivious to the danger looming over him, sharpens my resolve.

I mentally chart our route, meticulously planning every turn and landmark. Tomorrow, I'll take charge of navigating us. Gale's lack of orientation skills is exasperating—how we managed to turn in circles earlier baffles me. But dwelling on past mistakes won't help now. I need absolute focus; Gale must not delay my mission any further. I crave closure, resolution...

We could pretend.

Gale's teasing words echo in my mind, disrupting my train of thought. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I contemplate his audacity. Why would he suggest such a thing? I shake my head, pushing aside the distraction. Wizards are deceitful by nature, skilled in weaving illusions and games. Trusting him would be foolish—I've learned that lesson way too many times to forget.

I sink deeper into the hot bath, letting the soothing water envelop me. With each breath, I try to release the tension coiled within my muscles. The steam rises around me, creating a cocoon of warmth and solitude. I focus on the sensation of weightlessness, allowing myself a moment of respite from the weight of our mission. Tomorrow will demand my utmost vigilance and resolve. For now, I surrender to the tranquility of the moment, seeking solace in the simple act of relaxation.