The League of Dragon Riders

The Great and Angry Madame Carmen.

There she stood, tall and angry, with her hands twisted in her large violet gown. I watched as she stomped through the mud, it was the season of rain after all, while we so called apprentice scrambled down the short hill behind her. She was trying, and failing, to keep the expensive dress out of the mud.

"Charles!" She screamed furiously. I rolled my eyes as Charles, the new handyman, stumbled out of the barn with his cap falling over his eyes. He was filling in for his dad who had fallen ill a month before.

"Y-yes, ma'am?" He stuttered as she grabbed his collar and brought him close. His eyes widened in fear and he looked back and forth from her eyes to her fist.

"Do you think me an idiot?" She asked. Charles winced.

"N-no," he stuttered back.

"Then explain why the stairs aren't fixed." She demanded as she pushed him away. He fell backwards and onto his backside.

I sighed, dumped the leftovers into the pig pen, and climbed over the fence with ease. I walked towards the poor guy as he struggled to explain.

"Madame Carmen?" She turned towards me, the anger in her brown eyes was warning enough to steer clear. And yet I ignored it. Her apprentice stood behind her with her arms folded and a superior look in her eyes.

"I can fix the stairs. He was busy with the horses. They were exceptionally sassy today." I told her with the bucket hanging limply at my side. I watched as she looked in between me and Charles.

"Fine. One more mess up and..." She trailed off, the threat hanging in the air as I helped him up. I waited for her to stomp away before speaking.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Fine. I really don't like her," He muttered.

"Yeah, me neither. Don't do it again." I told him as I watched Madame Carman struggle up the short incline. I smiled as I hurried up it, bypassing her and that idiot apprentice.I kicked off my boots by the back steps and entered into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a small stuffy room with a fireplace and a cooking rack, a counter, and a wall of cupboards made of pine. A bowl sat on the counter and a pan over the fire by the other side of the room.

The cook, we called her Potts and I've never heard her real name, was hurrying around. She's been here for as long as I could remember. Flour decorated her face like white freckles and an apron hung loosely around her full figure. Her graying black hair was up in a tight bun as she moved about.

"Hello, Potts," I called out as I exited the kitchen and into the dining room. Which was dark as always with only four candles lighting up the big room. Madame Carmen was as cheap as they came. It's hard to believe that she was in fact my aunt. My dad used to have this place lit up. Well, before he died that is.

There were ten tables in all and today only three were occupied. Two men sat alone as I knew they would. They were two locals that always seemed to find their way in here at noon. Noon was when Potts really started cooking. The third table, however, was occupied by two men I didn't recognize which was rare this time of year. The guests of Merryweather week show up later in the day. I took a few steps closer to the table than I had to to get a better look.

One man had dark tan skin that you got when you spent a lot of time in the sun, unlike the traders of the South that are born with skin the color of chocolate. His dark hair was littered with specks of gray and his beard even more so. He wore this strange leather clothing that was a shade darker than his skin. It almost reminded me of bark. He held a tankard in one hand and he was leaning forward in deep conversation with the man before him.