REALMWALKERS

7: Tavern Talks

~ Ferelith Rosewood ~

As I walk to the tavern that sits on the edge of the southern end of the city, Syran Nalore is bustling, even at this late hour.

The tavern is warm, and as Bren and Ofelia follow me inside, the chatter that fills the room is so loud, I can barely hear my own sharp intake of breath at the strange beauty in here. There are tables up the middle of the room, with booths in the sides and corners. People from all over sit and talk and eat and drink. The happiness is palpable.

Bren whistles low. "Damn, this place is lively."

"Don't act surprised, Bren" says Ofelia, rolling her green eyes. She looks at me. "You okay, Princess?"

"Call me Ferelith here, Ofelia," I say softly.  "Don't need the others here overhearing my title."

"She's right, sis," Bren chuckles, elbowing her. "Time to be as informal as possible and act like it's normal for us."

"Have you spied the man we are here for?" I ask them.

They both look around for a moment, and Bren nods. "This way, girls."

We approach the far left corner of the room, where a lone man sits. Salvatore Poe is tan, his claws tapping the table absently, his auburn hair slicked back. Hazel eyes sparkle in the candlelight as he looks up to assess us.

"You Salvatore Poe?" Bren asks.

"Depends entirely on who is asking," he says.

"Just us," Ofelia says.

Salvatore looks at the three of us,  then shrugs.  "I'm sure you're the ones I was set to meet. Huh? Well, if that's the case, sit down, choola. It is a fine day for some mead."

I glance at Bren. He whispers, "Choola is a term for "friend" — in case that's what you were asking, I mean."

The three of us sit down on the bench across from Salvatore in the booth. He steeples his fingers, then leans forward. The shrewd look on his face is a bit disconcerting, but at the same time, I admire how intense he is. He seems like an alright guy. For a thief.

"So," he casually says. "I am sure you have questions. Especially about why I, a thief, am asking to speak to the royals. Most fae in my profession wouldn't be so bold."

"True. But tell me, why do you wish to speak to them?" I ask. "What is it you hope to gain from it?"

"Much," he replies. "Look, I know we don't have much time, here. But I'll just cut to the chase, I suppose. So, the royals need to know about the existence of a particular force of beings that could indeed pose a dire threat to all of us. Not just the whole of the kingdom. But for all of Fylthaes."

"So, the world itself is in danger. From what?" I ask.

"Well, I'll need to explain a bit. I have found that there is a type of being that is called a Realmwalker. They are exactly as the name implies. Their power allows them to walk from Realms. And, well, I've located one. Luckily, she's good. I know where she is, and trust me, she has no clue what she is. But despite that, we all need her help."

"Why do we need her help specifically?"

"Because there are two others we know about, and they are trapped with those we all would call our enemies."

"Our enemies? Who exactly are you referring to?"

"We don't exactly know who it is precisely yet. But we do know that there is a strong force that is puppeteering them all. And if we don't find out who that is, and who the puppets and prisoners are, we are all dead. Or worse."