Avengard: The Fall of Senvia

Chapter 11 - Lakeside, Part 1

We didn't camp at the site of the ambush. No matter how comfortable I might have been on a battlefield when Lyana was alive, the thought of sleeping next to the dead made me sick. I used to practically bathe in blood, but since my time at the inn, only a wall away from Ana and Lucian's fragile snoring bodies, I couldn't stomach it. I didn't even bother to ask Eskir how he felt, though I'm sure he would have said the same.

His murderous "friends" buried and his meditation site thoroughly vandalised, he signalled that he was ready to leave.

"Why take the trouble to destroy it?" I asked. "Why not leave it for the forest, or someone else who shares your path?"

He shook his head, a dejected look barely present in his eyes. But he didn't speak.

The day was already nearing its end by the time we set out. We wouldn't ride in the dark, and the days were still short in the spring, but the horses would at least take us away from the site of the ambush.

We arrived in the evening of the next day. Immediately, the crowds made me miss Ana. She would have moved through them like a dancer surrounded by a shower of falling cherry blossoms, never touching any of them and maintaining such grace that they seemed to flow with her. She always seemed so at home in a a crowd like this.

It made me wonder why she chose our inn, less crowded and more quaint than seemed to suit her.

Probably for the same reason as I had come to stay there. It was home.

But this place was densely packed, far more than our inn at the crossroads ever saw outside of peak seasons. And it was still spring, with soft mud and remnants of snow outside. A better time to travel than winter, but still weeks too early for ideal circumstances.

I handed the innkeep, a stubby sort of man with greasy hair, a few pieces to spend the night. Then, Eskir dragged me to huddle over the serving counter of the restaurant.

"Ah, beer if you please!" said Eskir.

"Alehouse is that way," said the server curtly, but barely lifted his finger to point. Eskir turned around, confused.

"Outside, through those doors," I told him. "They only serve the good stuff in here."

"The good stuff?" he sputtered in outrage. "I asked for beer!"

"Exactly," I snickered.

"Now listen here," he started, "we weren't all raised in a palace with the fancy folk. I want beer! What is this, some sort of class discrimination?"

"Yes," said the server with a gruff laugh. He wore a shoddy black coat and ruffled cotton pants. He didn't look like much, but the Lakeside wasn't a place for looks. It was an inn for the wealthier, but not quite noble side of the population, notably higher end merchants and Kindred.

This man was not Kindred, but I caught a flash in his eyes that said he was something. A sorcerer, perhaps?

The doors to the inn popped as they hit the wall, and I could tell by the shingles that the regulars here liked to swing them hard. The doors needed replacing. I wouldn't have tolerated that sort of behaviour in the tavern at the crossroads, but this was Lakeside. If anything, it brought a small smile to my lips.

The server didn't react to the doors.

I enjoyed the rivalry, even if I happened to be the only one who ever thought about it.

Well, that's not entirely true. Lucian first mentioned Lakeside to me with a sneer. Look at him, not me. It's all Lucian's fault that I relished the subtle damage to their veneer.