King Of The Realm a.k.a. Kings, Wizards ... Lasers?

King Of The Realm Part II: Olin & Bahlrod

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 A lone figure stepped from the cold, wet and wind- torn night into a small-wooden building.  It was a tavern. Though usually a place for him to avoid, he needed warmth.  He spent his last six months stealing food and learning a language.  He used his wits for the first task, and his Newton’s UniDecoder (Nud) for the latter.  Without the decoder, he probably would only have a tenth of the knowledge of his new world’s language.

 He took a seat at a cracked little table toward the back of the long, dimly-lit room. He wanted to keep an eye on all who entered. After all, someone could have seen him stealing bread off a sill, or eggs in their hen-house; he had been in this village for too long. Also, he didn’t yet know enough about all the customs and norms of his new home.

 The place was smoke filled and reeked from the gray clouds of smoke mixed with stale ale and sweaty bodies.  Four shallow-burning brazers provided a flickering orange glow.  It was relatively crowded for its size, and the murmur was almost comforting.  Most averted their eyes from him, possibly due to his strange physical appearance, and alien clothes. 

 “You a Rel?” finally boomed the huge bartender leaving his post and ambling up to the table.

“A Rel?”  

“Rel. From the South. You daft, or what? ARE YOU FROM THE SOUTH?”

 “Uh...Yes. I’m from the South.  Sorry, I’ve been lost in the woods some time and ... need some ... food.”  Under the pressure, he stubled to remember some of the words.

 “What do you need?”

“Ale, and some meat - any kind - and, uh, potatoes.”

 “I’ll get for you, quick, but you ain’t lost your purse, have ya’?”

 “I have a little money.”

 He ate in silence, ignoring the occasional stares, and stray comments.  Last week, he performed some manual labor for a rancher, and was paid in coin and room and board.  It was his first chance to spend the money.  

He ordered another flagon of the strong ale, but he was already slightly intoxicated from the first.  It tasted awful, but nevertheless, the warming effect was soothing but the large amount of liquid ran through him rather quickly.

 On his return from the outhouse, he noticed three huge battle horses tied to the cracked and sun-faded hitching posts.  They hadn’t been there before. The beasts looked better suited for a large wagon, instead of saddled for riders.  He walked in and had to walk past the owners of the horses to get back to his table.  They were incredible!  They were of a different race than the beings which he had encountered thus far, who were pretty much identical to his own, and they certainly were not nearly as friendly looking.  One in particular gave him the shivers.  He was massively muscled, and wore minimal clothing to show off his physique.  All that covered his body was a crimson, billowy cape, knee high light brown leather boots, and some kind of thick leather shorts that had the rather amusing appearance of a diaper.  He had a shaved head, toped of with two horns, only one was broken near the base.  His head looked as if it were much too small for the massive body on which it perched. Short, coarse hair covered much of his exposed body, almost like a brown fur.  His companions looked much the same, only noticeably smaller, and their uniforms had a much more formal military look.  

They certainly raised the decibel level in the tavern even though everyone else had been reduced to near whispers.. They slammed their mugs and laughed raucously.  

 “Who are they,” he asked a withered-old man sitting alone at the next table.

The man leaned over and softly whispered, “Duke Kell’s imperial guard.  The big one is Captain Bahlrod, as vile as they come.”