A Forest of Secrets

Chapter 1

News of the King's death spread through the kingdom of Ontur in a matter of days, and people were grieving-- in their own way. The inn was unusually busy that night as never-ending toasts were made to the late King Markel, ruler of every land between the Fog Ocean and the Red Mountains. The upcoming nights of "grief-drinking" would be very profitable for Jo and her grandmother: they'd live comfortably for at least a couple of months without lifting a finger.

Jo walked back and forth to the tables, sweating like a pig, running to fill jars of ale from the kegs behind the bar, cleaning the occasional pool of vomit. Fun times. At least she'd be able to afford that nice silver mirror she saw at the market in the city, enchanted by a mage to make your wrinkles disappear, the barter said. It better have been, for two gold coins? It should predict the weather and clean the inn too, maybe massage her feet. She couldn't wait to go back to the city, walk in the glossy stone streets, look at the fancy shoes and pretty trinkets she'd never be able to buy. Her village was small and uneventful, if not for the King's death the inn would've been deserted, boring, like her life there. Nineteen years of endless fun and adventure, alright. If not for Grandmother, she would've been long gone. But she couldn't leave her, Jo was all the family she had left. She'd have to wait until— no, she didn't want to think about that. Not yet.

Jo accidentally spilled ale on a table, she'd have to quit her daydreaming habit. As she cleaned up, she saw a couple of conspicuous men coming inside. She knew everyone in the village, and those guys didn't ring a bell; they looked worn, dressed in riding clothes, a bit of stubble on their otherwise clean faces: they were definitely not from around, and they were no ordinary travelers either. They both wore light mail under their vests and were fairly well-built. They sat down in a corner, quietly. The older guy waved at her, she nodded— she just had to refill the jars on one last table and she'd be right there, in a second. As she leaned to pick up a goblet that fell from a table, one of the men made the mistake of pinching her ass, prompting the laughter and cheers of all the others, including the usually shy armorer's apprentice whom she rarely saw around the inn. She quickly unsheathed her dagger and swiftly dug it deep into the ale-soaked wooden surface, mere centimeters away from his other hand.

"Are you fond of your fingers? Try that again, I dare you," she winked at him, sporting a wickedly defiant grin on her face. The man froze— the whole inn went silent until somebody made yet another toast to the late King and everyone forgot all about it. She concealed her dagger back into her apron's pocket and hurried to tend the two newcomers, business as usual. It wasn't the first time she put that guy in his place and it wouldn't be the last.

The youngest of the travelers, twenty-two perhaps? was looking at her, flabbergasted. She couldn't see much in the poor light of the inn, but she noticed his honey brown eyes staring at her, round as pebbles. He ran a hand through his short light-brown hair, trying to flatten the mat he had on top.

"Enjoyed the show, honey eyes?" she asked him, smirking sardonically. The poor guy looked like he wanted to run, fast, and hide inside a hole, his face was redder by the minute. She wondered what was up with him, had he never seen a woman before? He sure acted like he hadn't. Or maybe he feared for his own fingers.

"It's nice to see a young lady who can take care of herself," the older one pitched in. He was being genuinely nice, there was no hint of mockery in his voice. He looked like he was in his late forties, though his tired eyes made him look older. She relaxed a little.

"It's always been me and grandmother here, so I've been fending scumbags ever since I can remember—my little fellow here has served me well a few times," she patted her hidden dagger and winked at his younger companion. "It's good for peeling apples as well, and opening kegs-- speaking of which, may I get you anything? I don't recommend the ham, it's a bit... stale."