A Forest of Secrets

Chapter 3

The lights of a nearby town were coming closer and closer; she could see the silhouette of a fortified urban center, with wooden spiked walls and guards at the main gates. She remembered being there a couple of times before: it was the town of Bolton's Reach; she got a nice silk dress there once, but never got a chance to wear it since Grandmother made her return it- not before scolding her for being careless with her money. The old lady ended up buying her a pair of sturdy leather boots with knife pockets instead- they were probably ashes at the moment, she thought bitterly. She really liked those boots.

As they got closer to the gates, one of the guards woke the other up hastily. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, until Jo and the rest were close enough to talk to without actually yelling.

"What's yer business here?" one of them said, his voice was a little slurry. He was tall and a bit soft around the edges, his red nose revealed he had been drinking earlier- like more than half of the kingdom that night.

"Probably looking for trouble, the lot," answered the other, still groggy from being rudely woken up. "D'youse know there are bandits out there, and worse?"

"You probably should let us in, then, young lad," said Grandmother, using her best "sweet old lady voice"- Jo had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing.

"I can't just let youse lot in, what if ye're bandits? Or dark mages?" the tall one scratched his butt as he said that. He looked like a very smart guy.

"I have a room at the Crowned Swan, paid for the rest of the month" replied Grandmother; Jo was surprised, but not entirely so. "You can go fetch the owner if you like. I'm sure he'll be very happy to be taken away from his inn, leaving his drunken patrons alone in this very busy night, for such an insignificant matter". Grandmother was still using her adorable granny voice- this time ironically. The men whispered to each other for a moment; finally, the tall one decided to let them in.

"Jus' don' cause any trouble- off, 'fore I change mee mind," he said. The other one scowled and spat on the floor as he signaled the vigil on top of the wall to open the gates.

Bolton's Reach was illuminated with perpetually lit fire rock dust, encased in little glass boxes on top of thin tall poles. The dust swirled inside like a living thing: it never ceased to amaze her. They didn't have those lampposts in the village, they were too costly and the place was so little it really didn't need to be lit at night; she found herself paralyzed watching the delicate swirls until Grandmother tugged her arm, beckoning her to move faster.

After twisting and turning a couple of times, they finally made it to The Crowned Swan; it was a tiny inn, much like the one she and Grandmother used to run... only much dirtier, filled with vermin and the smell of rotten beer. The barmaids were busy serving all the drinking men and women, some children too; they toasted loudly to honor the late King Markel- some doing so from over the tables, others attempting to from underneath. Jo had to kick one of the mourners in the gut in order to walk behind Grandmother, who was on her way to talk to the plump guy filling jugs behind the bar and passing them to the tired serving girls. As soon as he saw her standing in front of him, the innkeeper hastily handed the old woman a rusty key; he then urged her to move on upstairs with the rest of her party unless they were planning to ask for a drink, because it was a very busy night and they were clogging the bar's circulation. 

Grandmother ushered the three of them upstairs as if they were a flock of unruly goats. They were on their way up when one of the resident "girls" suddenly pinched Alaric's butt, which caused him to flush and fluster- he doubled his pace, nearly tripping over his own feet. Jo gave her an accomplice look. The girl winked and smiled at her with the few teeth she had left. She handed the girl a few coppers.