DisPLACEd: Beginnings

Chapter Nine

The group arrived at the tavern. Pushing open the large and heavy wooden door, they were greeted with loud chatter, the occasional raised voice, and glasses clinking and shattering. Brawny men filled the tavern from wall to wall. The men pawed at the barmaids, who laughed off their advances. Reb rolled her eyes, disgusted with the display. As they aimlessly made their way through the tavern a familiar voice called out to them. "Boy, come drink with us!"

Ryan turned, seeing Corbin and his companions resting against a few old wooden barrels fashioned as tables. Ryan and the group joined the already large party.

Corbin curiously peered past Ryan at the rest of the group; who were too distracted by their surroundings to be paying attention.

"Do you always drink with your servants?" Corbin asked.

Ryan turned around to look at the people, who he was surprised to call his friends, and laughed. "They're not my servants."

"If they are not yer servants, then what are they?"

"My friends."

"You strange child." Corbin laughed. "Never have I heard of a master being so generous to his servants."

Corbin turned to the table and grabbed two tankards of ale. He handed one to Ryan. "Drink!"

Ryan did as the older man said, and downed the beverage. He winced at the bitterness of the drink, and, before he could put the cup down, another was handed to him.

The unlikely band of comrades were very much enjoying themselves. The drinks were flowing and the fun was endless. Even Jake and Aadita had come around. Harley had kept the patrons entertained for hours, dancing with one after another. Jake's eyes swept across the room, landing on a rather strikingly handsome man whose eyes never left Harley. On the man's leather armour was a fearsome looking boar etched into the breastplate. The design was familiar, and Jake realised he had seen it when the caravans had entered through the castle's gates. The man, he could only assume, was Sir Haviland if the sigil of the boar meant anything. Jake did not like the way he looked at Harley; his eyes were dark and unnerving.

Eric sat amongst Corbin's men, a drink sitting awkwardly in his hand. He looked up at the burly figures and felt very out of place. They weren't much in the way of talkers, which only made Eric feel more awkward. He looked around the tavern spotting only knights, clad in their armour.

"So." He yelled over the conversation and the music. "Where are all the elves and wizards?"

The men stared uncertainly at Eric. He waited for an answer, becoming more nervous with the large men's menacing eyes on him. He worried that he had offended them. Without giving Eric an answer, they turned away, rolling their eyes. Eric nodded dubiously and moved to join Ryan and Corbin.

The tavern was brought to an uproar when a fight broke out between two men. The fight was a brutal one, with the larger man landing blow after blow on the smaller man's face and body. Harley, who had been dancing with the smaller man not long before, gasped and held her hand to her mouth. She couldn't believe no one was stopping it. She turned away, no longer wanting to watch the bloody match. Ryan put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, in an attempt to comfort her. A hushed silence came over the tavern as the smaller man dropped to the ground. The larger man stood over him, heaving. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixed with blood. He waited for the man to rise, his adrenaline still pumping. With the tip of his boot, he nudged the man, but he wasn't moving. The winner turned to the crowd and raised his hands victoriously in the air. They chanted his name. "Sampson! Sampson!"