Legacy: A Hero Has Come

Book 1: Interlude 1

Somewhere else, yet somewhere close. The small city of Tarn lied on the edge of Aestraia, dangling at the border of the western region while protected by the mountains and steppes. Standing on the outskirts was a rocky wall while a large lake bared no shine, forever casting a shadow overhead. If not for the single road stretching through Tarn, the city seemed isolated and cut off from the rest of the world, but even the rough dirt road made traveling hard. However, Jason Mors found no difficulty as he trudged his way through the entrance in the cobblestone wall.

Jason took notice of the dilapidated design, his pale blue eyes observing the withered wooden houses that the crumbling foundations barely held up. He disconcertingly hummed while turning his gaze to the dead grass, which made up much of the area. The dry wind blew throughout the city while the residents made their way home to avoid oncoming debris, and Jason gripped his hood tightly from falling off and approached a shanty tavern near the exit. He looked to the horses and noticed the mold growing in the troughs.

Might not want to order the water. With my old age, dysentery will absolutely do me in. Jason snorted. A dark chuckle escaped from Jason's dry mouth. Better safe than sorry on his part, though. I'm not ready to see the Isle of the Gallant, quite yet.

Out in the front stood withered tables. Each meant for the patrons to enjoy the sunshine (that is, if there was any, to begin with). All but one rotting, wooden chairs were occupied, mostly by scruffy, middle-aged men who looked like they spent their whole time drowning their sorrows in booze. They glared at Jason, and despite receiving a friendly wave, they did not return the gesture and didn't acknowledge him. He gritted his teeth and moseyed inside.

Jason looked around and saw the interior was no better. Taking a step further, he heard the wooden floors creaking underneath while making his way to the dark, dingy lantern-lit bar. The sound of laughter and cheers grew dead as the other patrons greeted the older man with ominous glares, but quickly everyone resumed their merriment. The tavern wenches beelined around to deliver their order while avoiding getting groped, which was difficult as their risqué uniforms drew too much attention with Jason's old ticker, almost jumping out of his chest.

The scent of stale beer and burning mushrooms met his nose, but Jason did not mind that much as he smelt worse. He tightened the strings of his hood, seeing the wanted posters with his wrinkling face placed at the front entrance. He waved his hand briefly as the barkeep put down his cloth and dirty mug to walk over.

"So, what's it going to be for ya?" the barkeep asked, eyeing the newcomer while losing his patience. "Make it quick. I got other orders awaitin'."

He flashed a friendly grin while brushing his goat beard.

"I'm just here for a drink and to try whatever special you got, my good man," He offered as he found a spot to rest his weary bones while avoiding the onlookers. Jason didn't want to cause any trouble in the tavern, nor was he in the mood to start trouble...not yet, at least.

"All we got is mushroom soup," said the barkeep. "It's ten pennies for a bowl. The ale is for an extra ten. If ya don't like it, then ya can go somewhere else." He pointed out the door at the end of the sentence.

Jason reached into his pockets and pulled out his coin pouch. He took out the exact amount and slammed it on the counter. Mushrooms weren't his favorite as he found the taste to be horrific and had an acidic texture like someone spit in his mouth, but he was too hungry to care, and he wished to wet his whistle before the real fun began.

"That sounds lovely. I'll have a bowl and a drink, and there will be an extra for another serving."

He scrutinized the coins, recognizing the markings with the king's face etched on the side. He even bit one down, leaving teeth marks while bending it. He wanted to reassure it was authentic and not some piece of worthless tin or wood, which he was relieved. The barkeep had too many swindlers trying to trick him out of a free meal.