Deathless

Deathless Chapter Eleven: Respite

Chapter Eleven: Respite

Slaughter. Endless slaughter. That was what the mages found when the gates of their city were thrust open. Our host, battered and heavy of heart, stormed the city of Morsar with the intent to kill. Blades flashed and javelins sailed through the wind. Our forces left the mutilated bodies of the dead and the dying in their wake as they made their way to the Golden Keep, where the Mage King and his royal sorcerers still resisted. And it was their blood that we stained the ground with. The stone below their feet were stained with blood of the mages, and it was the hand of Arlenia that cut them down. And soon a fire engulfed the city. Blazing orange flames coursed through the buildings as innocent men and women rushed through the streets, desperate to save what they could from the blackened ruins of their homes. Some of them got away. Others perished in the flames. And others more were butchered were they stood.

-Excerpt from The Battle of Morsar, by Haren, royal scribe of Arseph the Mageslayer

Bright and early the next day, the foursome rose from their uncomfortable slumber, greeted by tiny trickles of sunlight streaming through their single window, illuminating slightly the dingy, dirty rooms in which they slept.

Risselyn was awoken from his deep slumber by Lindale shaking him violently.

"What do you want?" he muttered as he was shaken unwillingly from his rest.

"Get your sorry ass out of the damn bed!" Lindale full shouted. "It's past dawn! We should have left an hour ago!"

Risselyn rubbed his eyes nonchalantly, completely to the frustration of Lindale. He stretched and yawned, and slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Are you not hearing me? Get. Your. Ass. Out. Of. Bed!"

"Yeah, sure," Risselyn muttered as he pulled on his boots.

Downstairs, on the other hand, a very different shouting match was taking place, between Vanya and the innkeeper, a fat, bald man with a stomach that didn't seem to obey any laws of gravity."Fifty silvers!?" Vanya exclaimed. "For one night? I could buy twenty-five loaves of bread or what your piece of dung inn costs!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the fat man said, smiling. "But the Gateway Inn is a very prestigious and top-notch inn. We offer the very best service for such a rather reasonable charge."

"Reasonable charge?" Vanya said, even angrier now. "You call this dung-filled, rat-infested, excuse of an inn to be top-notch?"

Sirya sauntered over to the counter, and spoke, her voice sliding over them like ice. "I think all of us here are at fault here. I am aware that my companion here is rather, ah, withholding with her silvers. But this is clearly highway robbery."

Vanya had always admired how easily Sirya could get what she wanted. She was rather worried that this trick worked on her at times as well.

"But maybe we could, come to a compromise, perhaps?" Sirya's hand then rested seemingly unintentionally on the hilt of her dagger, but the fat man saw it, and he began to sweat furiously. Sirya gave a sly grin. "How does twenty-five silvers sound to you?"

But the innkeeper paid her no heed. He was too busy staring at that giant of a blade, and was wondering how it would feel if it were to slide across his throat perhaps.

"Done," he stammered.

After they had paid him his measly pay of twenty-five silvers and gotten Risselyn off his ass and into his armor, they left the Gateway Inn and entered the Gateway Market, located conveniently next to their inn.