Cambolton's Fall

Chapter One

The frozen wastes ahead of him stretched out like an endless sea of glass, reflecting the sun's light. Everyone that he ever knew or loved was behind him, standing like statues. Every pair of eyes staring at his broad shoulder blades. They were ushering him out into that waste. The lack of concern for one of their greatest warriors was a testament to the crime he'd committed against his people. This was exile. This was excommunication. Forbidden to ever return home to his clan. Only one direction for him now. Forward.

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He hated it here in the capital. This tavern wasn't even the worst of it; in fact, the tavern all that bad. It was the insufferable people inside the tavern. Brin scanned the room from beneath creased eyebrows, taking in the groups of people. Here, in Marklana, everyone seemed to be far too important to acknowledge those around them, each living in their own little world.

Brin had to admit that the establishment itself appealed to him. Rumor had it, that it had been built by hand, by the owner. Round tables filled the room, each stained a deep, dark brown. Solid benches and booths lined the side walls. Towards the back of the room, there was a large hearth that kept the room warm and comfortable, even in the cold months. Despite the number of bodies that seemed to be crammed into the tavern, it always managed to have a pine smell with a splash of mead. The commotion on the busy nights was usually focused around the bar, which was well kept and constantly cleaned to a shine.

Brin watched the old man behind the oak bar as he worked; he made friendly conversation and pouring drinks for his customers. Brin had come to respect the man in his two weeks of service to the tavern. He was a hard and honest man, who expected hard and honest work from his people. The burly man had made a quick assessment of Brins' skills his first night in the bar when an overly drunk pair had attempted to remove him from his corner table. After Brin refused to move and offered an alternative seat or even a drink as a peace offering. The men had become hostile and Brin quickly removed the two from the bar and returned to his table.

He smiled now, remembering the cautious looks from the by-standers and noting that no one had attempted to sit in his booth while he was escorting the two gentlemen outside. Minutes later, Turi had approached him, smiling through his red beard, carrying a mug of ale and an offer. Though Brin didn't act it in front of Turi, he had been desperate for work and coin. He was there, at the tavern, in the first place to think of possible jobs; but then the large barkeep had approached him with the offer of working, as his muscle, for the bar.

"It's been getting a bit rowdier in here lately, lad. I could use a pair of quick hands around the bar for when it gets a bit out of control." Turi slid the mug towards him with a smile. "I'll pay you five silver per week and two additional silver for every sixth day, since it's our busiest night." He maintained eye contact the entire time he spoke, his large brown eyes looked as solid and dependable as the tavern itself.

"Keep the two extra silver and give me a room upstairs and you have yourself a deal." Brin took a deep drink from the offered mug.

Turi seemed to think about the deal. "No whoring or drinking while you're working, keep it quiet when you're upstairs, and if you share anything more than a polite conversation with my daughter you'll be out on your ass faster than you can beg for my forgiveness." He held out his large callused hand, signaling the end of any further discussion.

Smiling, Brin set down the mug and clasped the man's forearm in the warrior's brace of his homeland. In the northern mountains it symbolized trust, strength and a bond of words. Turi glanced at their arms and then smiled broadly at Brin, his crimson cheeks becoming round and shiny as they rose. "Welcome to The Spotted Pig!" Since then Brin had continued to sit in his same corner and brood, while occasionally bumping lesser-nobles' heads together... only now he was getting paid for it.

Returning his attention to the tavern owner, he noted the strange party that he was talking with. An odd mix of three people. The first being a tall man who looked to be in his young twenties, similar to Brin himself, and wore a long blond ponytail. He was dressed in brightly colored clothing and strung across his back was an extremely ornate lute with gold strings. His company consisted of a small, skinny girl dressed in fine clothing with red hair and a very tall and lanky older man who seemed to be dressed in rags.

With their backs to him, he couldn't see much else. Turi laughed and continued talking to the group. It only took a few seconds, but Brin recognized the tall, older man as a Spotted Pig regular. Though he wasn't usually a trouble-maker, he was constantly there at closing time and could barely make it out of the door.

Brin watched, curious what they could be talking about. He quickly lost interest as he saw Turi shrug his shoulders and shake his head. The group left swiftly then,, without getting a drink. Brin went back to scanning the crowds, sipping on his mug. He liked to stay tucked in his corner, undisturbed. Occasionally he would scowl at people as they got too close or their group started to act a bit too obnoxious. He always drank from a mug, to give an appearance that he was drinking, though it was always filled with water. This actually saved him a lot of effort a few times when it came to removing an aggressive customer. They tend to underestimate a shorter, younger man, who they believe to be drunk.

A bit of time wentby and the tavern began to slow down after the dinner rush. Brin drew his cloak around himself tighter as a group of men walked out of the door, letting in a rush of the winter's night. He glanced at the fire and saw Turi's daughter fueling it; he almost missed Turi himself approaching from the bar.

"Just thought that I'd let you know, those fellows who came in earlier were looking for, 'A man who's about yeigh tall, raven black hair slicked back with short sides, and eyes as blue as ice. He might have caused some trouble or roughed up some of your staff? I'd like to talk with him.'." Turi spoke in a voice that was a few octaves higher than his own while trying to mimic the man from earlier. Despite his joking tone, he looks at Brin seriously, "I'm not sure what you're mixed up in lad, but that's a pretty accurate description. You haven't caused me any trouble and you have been more than willing to help with some of the work around the Spotted Pig. I don't appreciate being made a liar, but I won't sell out a good man; I told them you hadn't been seen around here."

Brin tried to think of who, in the capital of Drule, could be looking for him. He had barely made any human contact, let alone caused any trouble. "Droff walked in a little bit ago, do you mind if I have him take over for me while I go see what those three are up to?" He is relieved as Turi shrugs and turns to walk back to the bar, but stops the large man. "Turi, whatever this is... I'll make sure none of it blows back on you or the Spotted Pig. You have been good to me." Turi's eyes moved back and forth slightly, as if searching Brin's face for something. After a moment, he just nods and continues towards the bar.

Brin shouldered through the front door, stepping into the biting air. It was later now by about a half hour. He paused, thinking about where the strange group could have gone. The way that they came straight into the bar and left, seemed odd to Brin. So he decided to continue with the same pattern, checking the bars as discretely as possible.