Posted By Mark on April 15, 2010
The narrow path had merged with a broader roadway sometime in the midmorning. Korin has to watch his footing more carefully now due to wheel ruts and litter that characterized the well-traveled route. It was odd that such was the case, for it made more sense to him that the highroads be easier to travel than the game trails and footpaths. He suspected that he would find many more hazards due to human habitation, and according to his companion, those hazards were never more apparent than when visiting a city.
Korin’s apprehension rose as he neared the city. Perhaps it was merely the magnitude of it’s walls that caused this rising tide, or the volume of people it seemed to possess. To his eyes, the walls appeared to swell with the pressure of containing the masses, although he was sure that this was all his imagination. When still well over a mile from the nearest gate, for Korin assumed there would have to be several of these, his eyes were drawn to the number of travelers both coming and going. There were a number of small structures built within a stone’s throw of the portal, and there were a multitude of people running about between the buildings and various travelers. Wagons with wooden structures on them seemed to attract more of these people than mounted individuals, but they all attracted at least a few visits as they moved out from the shadow of the walls.
“This really is your first visit to the city.” Ostlen spoke from his position to his left and a step behind him. A position he had maintained since they had begun their approach to the city. “I did not intend to worry you, so much as give you caution in your travels. Townsfolk are not all thieves and vagabonds, although there are certainly many different types of those.” He paused as though contemplating his next words. “The worst of the vagabonds are to be encountered first, those who live in the hovels built on the king’s land in the shadow of the walls will pester every traveler to and from the city, and so you beware their filthy hands. You can never tell just what they might carry with them, and the greatest danger may be the least expected.”
Korin turned his eyes toward his friend at the last statement. “Those buildings appear better built than the O’Neill’s abode, and yet you seem to hold them in contempt?” His question was interrupted by a turn of his ankle in one of the many ruts that crisscrossed the roadway. Korin stumbled, and was sure that he would crash to the ground. Ostlen caught him, and with seeming ease corrected his faltering balance. Shaking off the hands even as his companion released him, he felt embarrassment rush through him, and barely quelled an urge to blaspheme. “One wonders that men dare walk horses over such roads as these. I shudder at the wonders of civilization!”
Ostlen gave out a boisterous laugh, as though he had spoken the greatest joke. “I wonder at that as well sometimes, but it is your destination we come to, not mine.” There was humor in his voice, and he seemed not to take offence at Korin’s reaction to his assistance. The fellow appeared willing to anticipate ever misstep of his companion, and to provide such support, as he deemed necessary not matter that the fellow would often refuse such assistance if given the opportunity. “I would hasten to add that two such riders approach us from the east.”
Two sets of eyes turned toward the east, with the hazy sun interfering with their vision. The two riders seemed well appointed. They appeared to be intent on riding through the companions until they were close enough to see Korin’s dress. They slowed then, and appeared to wish avoiding direct contact with them. Korin thought this odd, and wished to question Ostlen about this, but the two were too close to appear so hesitant. Taking a measure of the riders, he struck out with measured determination, as though fully expecting the riders to give leave to his passing. He fixed in his mind the confident stride of his lecturers who were fully aware that any student would give way to their passing. The riders pulled up alongside the roadway, although giving Korin an odd look as he passed.
Something in that scowl, raised hackles in his head, and something made him eye each of the riders in a similar fashion. “Our pardons, good sir, I hope we did not raise too much dust in your midst.” The second rider spoke in a milder tone than Korin expected. “We ride on the Duke’s orders, and did not intend to disturb you.” Something in the manner of his speech suggested that the fellow cared little where Korin was traveling to, or from whence he came, but was impatient to be on his way, and yet not eager to offend one of obvious stature. The first fellow was younger, and had been unable to restrain his arrogance. The only thing holding him from riding Korin down appeared to be his fellow rider.
Ostlen did not speak during this exchange, and Korin caught a glance of his companion’s downcast face as he spoke to the rider. “Your apology is accepted. I travel these roads too rarely to anticipate such missions of great import. Now carry on eye your duke wonders where you have gotten too.” The embarrassment, less the rider comprehend his lack of true stature.
The rider paled visibly, under the eyes of this stranger, who seemed not to care that he was a servant of one close to royalty. Only very few men would be so little concerned about the missions of the ducky, and this one wore the garb suited to one such. “A dozen pardons, Just man, I will hurry out of your way.” The rider looked a command at his companion and the two were off at a gallop. Korin felt the bleed rush to his face as he watched the two of them ride away.
He heard a quiet chuckle from behind him. “I believe that he will recall this encounter all his days.” The humor in Ostlen’s voice did little to ease his embarrassment. “You have a gift, my scholarly friend. Are you certain you were not born to nobility? You have their ways etched in your skin.” Korin shuddered at this statement, and suddenly recalled his arrogant speech to the archivist. He could find no humor in his actions, although he had acted as he suspected he needed to have acted. He could not comprehend his companion’s humor at his actions, or the easy way in which the man had taken that abashed, subservient stance. There had been something far too habitual in it for Korin’s comfort. He had known servants at the Academy who acted just that way whenever in the company of instructors, and then spoke so nastily about them when beyond their sight and hearing.
The two carried on with their journey. When closer to the walls, a number of serious flaws were visible in the lines of the structure, as well as failing mortar that allowed portions to appear jagged. This monument to the local ruler’s power was in sore need of repairs, and Korin had the impression that this had been the case for some time. As he had been told to expect, they were besieged by the vagabonds as they neared the gated. He was not concerned about them, until Ostlen struck one who grasped his shoulder. The fellow staggered a few steps before falling to one knee, and the others sprang back as though they would be next.
“My master does not like to be touched! Be off with you, and pester some as have more time to waste with your pleadings.” The harsh tones were so distinct from those to which he was accustomed to that it took effort not to look at his friend in surprise. The words had their desired effect, although others did approach as the two neared the gatehouse, none were so bold as to reach out to either of them. Their cries for alms were difficult to listen to as Korin could only imagine he would have been among their number if not for the gift he had received. He followed his companion’s lead in staunchly ignoring their please, even coming to the point of ignoring their existence unless they came too close.
Two soldiers lounged at the gate, seeming to have little concern for who entered or left. Korin witnessed a remarkable transformation as one caught sight of the pair striding purposefully toward the gate. He nudged the other, and the two went erect in unison. “Good sirs!” The first bade them welcome in less than formal speech. Korin suspected that the two were among many trained only for this simple duty of securing the gate in times of peace. “Be off with you, rabble!” The command had a similar, if quickly response as Ostlen’s actions moments earlier. They did recognize formal dress, even when road dust grayed it beyond reasonable acceptance. “Pardon the rabble, would that such did not inhabit our domain, but the poor flourish in such places.”
The words touched a chord within him, and he spoke sharply. “The poor abide where they are left. A ruler may be judged by how many such they allow to straggle among their citizenry. The ‘rabble’ are not the dregs of society; so much as, they are evidence of decadence among the rich. Beware of those you stomp upon when you have station, for one knows not when status may be meaningless.” The words cut too close to home for Korin to continues, but they had their intended effect. While the two guards may not heed his warnings, they did recognize that he was dressing them down for word or action. The effect was the same in either case.
“You find rest and peace within the walls of Farsend. There are guardsmen throughout the city, if you have need. A simple call will alert them, and they will be only too happy to assist.” These words were spoken with downcast eyes. The second guard was fidgeting about, desiring to be out of the sight of this newcomer. With a nod of thanks, Korin entered the city, and began a new journey into unknown territory. The two guards visibly shuddered with his passing.
The guard ran into the small hut that housed them when unseasonable weather made standing outside a hardship. Again, he heard a similar chuckle from behind him, barely concealed by a fake cough. Ostlen seemed to find great humor in his companion’s interactions with those accustomed to possessing authority over most. He found it irksome, and yet he could not deny a sense of accomplishment in dressing down these two who took authority too far. He seemed able to ignore other such indiscretions, but those with positions needed to have care that their actions reflected proper concern.
Within the walls, the conditions were no better than they had been outside. If it were possible, the people in view were even more dejected and impoverished. Korin’s heart went out to them, even those who seemed to callously disregard their companions in the rush to garner some respite from their offending lives. Ostlen seemed unable to warn them all off, as the two were besieged by calls for alms and pity. Something about their condition triggered a memory within him, and he was drawn back to an earlier time. He could not be sure, but he suspected that he had seen this sort of scene before; his father’s voice echoed through his mind. “I cannot leave you to this life, my son. I have long been a fool to believe that I could rise above my station, but I have taken the wrong route…”
The voice was cut off by present actions. One of the beggers suddenly leapt out of the mass, and was struck down nearly as quickly by a well-placed strike. The rest of the beggars recoiled from the attack, and Korin was shocked to see a short blade fall from the creature’s grasp as Ostlen kicked him aside. “Make way, my master rewards not thieves, and scoundrels!” The fellow gathered up the fallen blade and tucked it behind his belt in one smooth motion. “You see this blade is forfeit, as is the life of the next to try his luck.” The words seemed to echo among the walls of this broad area, and the beggars fell back in hovering silence.
A thin young fellow went sprinting up a side street, intent on some private mission. Korin found himself impressed at himself, as well as his companion. In all of this, he had maintained his austere bearing, as though this was expected from his sword arm. Personal security was something that he would have to give more thought to in the future, but for now he felt secure in Ostlen’s watchful eyes. There was more to this incident than a mere attack and defense. The beggars would be watchful of this new danger to their trade. It may be that Korin would continue to pity the conditions of the poor, but he would also be less compassionate to their calls for alms. They may well be poor, destitute perhaps, but at least some were willing to take that which was not offered.
The hovels of the peasantry were no match for the filth and destitution of the city. He had been somewhat distressed by his first encounter with the O’Neill’s, not knowing how he would react to their poverty. In contract, they seemed now to have wealth, a wealth that contrasted with the poverty to be found here. Korin now understood the contempt that Ostlen had voiced when speaking of the hovels outside the gates. How was it that people could live in such filth? There were obviously those of greater wealth among the masses that composed the city, and yet they accepted this filth as certainly as did the poor, who had little recourse.
Korin had to walk carefully, which posed as something of a challenge for one attempting to retain an austere bearing, in order to avoid stepping in the most obvious filth. The troubling thoughts of how people bore this life of open filth has to be set aside while they made their way along one of the main streets. It’s east-west direction was impaired occasionally by an awning stretched too far into the street, or some building whose front required a detour to allow passage along the route. Ostlen spoke little, except to caution about this place of concealment or that. He seemed almost totally occupied with their personal security, a concern that both comforted Korin, and disturbed him at the same time.
They happened upon a shop that offered antiques and collectibles for trade, and Korin thought of his small purse tucked behind his belt since their encounter at the gate. He spoke quietly, and indicated the awning of the humble shop. Ostlen nodded his agreement, and the two entered the shop. Korin was unsure of what to expect from such a place, and given the lack of care he had encountered in the street, was surprised that the interior appeared warm and inviting. There was an obvious clutter of equipment and items for sale, but otherwise the place seemed well appointed, if somewhat humble.
The proprietor looked up from an intricate little case that he was examining. “Welcome to Oran’s Wares.” He said quickly, as though it had been said over much, and was now simply routine. His eyes widened with an awareness of the sort who chose to enter his establishment. “Good sirs, how may I be of assistance? I am but a humble shopkeeper, and I am honored that you choose to frequent my business.” His voice held a new quality that had not been in his initial greeting.
It was a measure of how many times Korin had experienced this change in temperament that he barely acknowledged the change. “I come seeking value for a few coins that have fallen into my possession. I assume that one, such as yourself, who deals with rare finds would understand the value of such things.” He had no idea if this was the best way to handle his needs, but had little choice but to request the aid he sought. Ostlen offered neither encouragement, nor refutation, so he carried on with his request. “I have a few coins that are of significant value, if marketed in the correct circles. Would you take a look at them, and give me your best price?” He procured his purse as he spoke, and ignored the sharp intake of breath that suggested he might be erring. Ostlen had complete faith, in defending his life, and protecting their possessions.
The shopkeeper’s eyes widened when his eyes fell on the ancient coins. “I am certain that you are correct in estimating their value, but I do not believe that I can offer a fair price for such things.” There was no hidden meaning in his words, although Korin found the statement preposterous. He had to admit that he know little of such things, and had to rely on the knowledge of this shopkeeper, or another such.
“What is this? Can you not offer an honest statement? We come here for trade, and you claim to market such goods. Offer us a price, and as my master has said, we will be on our way.” Ostlen was not so cautious, not so forgiving, as Korin would have been. It was possible, that the fellow would simply turn them out into the street, to find some other way to trade the coins.
“I mean no disrespect!” The shopkeeper hurriedly said. “My humble goods do not provide the sort of income to purchase so many valuable items. I could offer you my savings on the silver coins, but I would not be able to do more until I have found a buyer for such items.”
Korin noted the fellow’s posture, and believed he was telling the truth, as incredible as that might seem. “I will not be in the city long, for we have a distance to travel. How much could you offer for the silver coin?”
The shopkeeper visibly calmed with Korin’s reply. Had he really believed that his companion could mean any harm to his person or shop? “I can offer you fifty gold for the silver, and if you can delay travel for a day or two, I may be able to do more. It is not quite what it’s worth, but it is all I have.” A little of the trader come into his voice at the end, but only with regard to acknowledging the higher value of the single coin.
Korin was careful to control his expressions, in case his surprise would be revealed. He had not expected quite this much from the silver, an would have accepted half as much, but there was no point to telling this stranger that he was shocked at the value. “I may be able to stay a couple days, if I can find suitable quarters for myself and my companion. My journey is timely, but not an urgent one.” He had to give this man something for his efforts, and the offer of more profit was the least he could do.
“I can suggest a couple clean and well appointed places where you might find rest and comfort. Someone of your stature would require a minimum of privacy and comfort, so I would suggest the Eagle’s Nest located on Gauvin’s Way, a short walk from here.” The shopkeeper had moved from being the hospitable host, to being a helpful confident, and Korin was not sure he was comfortable with the change.
Korin indicated the intricate case with which the man had been occupied when he entered the shop. “How much would you ask for that item?” He spoke with intent to throw the fellow off a little, because he did not wish the man to become too familiar. Something about the item intrigues him, and he thought it would be interesting to examine.
The shopkeeper glanced down at the item where it lay on his counter. “I have no certain price as of yet, for I have been unable to open it.” He seemed to be shaken from Korin’s interest, but willing to carry on nonetheless. “I would be willing to throw it into the bargain, if you will but delay your travel for a day or two. A man such as me has few chances to garner items of real value with which to trade, and I would be in your debt truly, if you would do me this honor.” There was something about his manner that seemed off, but Korin nodded his agreement, and was rewarded with the procurement of a small purse that jingled with it’s contents. “You may count again, if you doubt my word, but there are fifty gold coins in that sack; my savings that I have counted a number of times.”
Korin took the purse, as well as the three coins the shopkeeper was unable to purchase. He tucked the latter back behind his belt, and held the other out to Ostlen who looked taken aback by the offer. The wooden case, he chose to carry himself, although he did wrap it in a fold of his cloak. The shopkeeper bade them good day, and they stepped back into the street, with Korin taking the lead in the direction that the shopkeeper had indicated lay an inn of “appropriate stature”. He was not sure that he liked the reactions of people to his dress, but it was something that would assist him at this point.
“I’m not certain we should take his suggestion for a place to rest.” Ostlen said as soon as we were far enough from the door to speak quietly without being heard. “I do not know that the fellow cannot be trusted, but I do not like anyone, who knows of the treasure you possess, knowing where you sleep.” His caution was as much a part of him as the blade strapped to his hip, and Korin felt it necessary to give his words consideration. The incident at the gate had given him reason to be distrustful of all those he met, so Korin thought for a long moment before replying.
The two young men strode along purposefully, giving little attention to their surroundings, or so it seemed. Korin found that his trained mind had adapted to scanning the street in advance of their passage. “There is someone standing in the shadow of the awning on the right.” He whispered, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath coming from Ostlen. The young fellow had not expected Korin to be paying close attention to the street, and was surprised by the scholar’s eyesight. They had reached the entrance to Gauvin’s Way, according to the faded signage. “I trust in your judgement, my friend.” Korin spoke quietly, as he paused to consider their next move. “I do not believe that the shopkeeper wished to know where we stayed, but he seemed too occupied with the possibility of profit to have contemplated anything else. The ultimate choice is yours.”
“The fellow by the awning is moving off, but he seems too curious by a half.” Ostlen spoke near whispers, and Korin resisted the urge to turn his head. “We will need to have caution no matter where we stop, and the fellow did have cause to wish us well. I got the feeling that your coins are worth far more than he was offering.” The last was added as they began to separate, beginning the journey to the inn of which they had been told.
Korin could not deny that the shopkeeper was probably making a goodly profit from trading the coins. He had seemed too eager for the service, but Korin did not have the time, or the resources to seek out those who collected such things himself. He supposed that was the nature of business, charging a fee for services rendered. His companion was all the security he had in the world, until he was able to learn a few skills of his own, so he would garner what coin he could, and prepare himself for the trails ahead.
The hundred yards or so to the inn were covered in silence. Each of the companions was alone with his thoughts. The time in the shop had seen the sun come around to the west, and there were long shadows on the left hand side of the street. Korin walked carefully, avoiding the abundant filth that seemed to nearly cover the street surface. The most difficult part of this walk was maintaining his appearance of austerity, while trying not to slip in the filth. A few times, he nearly lost his footing, and each time he was aware that hands hovered near enough to catch him before falling. Korin managed the task on his own, and was confused by his elated sense of accomplishment. No one should feel proud to have walked two hundred steps without stumbling.
The awning before the inn was well appointed, and bore the image of a large bird coming to rest on a field of blue. Korin was surprised to see a wide alley open before they reached the establishment. In the afternoon lights, he could see that this alley ended in a semi-detached building, which appeared to be used to house the mounts of the inn’s patrons. The shopkeeper had not led them astray in his suggestion, for there was a level of wealth required to possess mounts of one’s own. “Remember, you are the master, and I am the servant.” Ostlen spoke in a whisper, as he stepped past him to reach the door first.
This manner of assuming his station seemed not to bother Ostlen, so Korin felt it necessary to accept it as proper. The fellow opened the door, and Korin preceded him into the common room. There was much that he did not know of human society, and he was willing to accept his companion’s direction for the time being. The interior of the establishment appeared to him to be well cared after, being both clean and busy even at this hour before the evening meal would be served. Korin made his way through the tables to the counter, behind which a fellow stood scouring the room.
Korin draw the attention of the fellow before he had time to reach the counter edge. “May I be of service, good sirs?” His voice seemed not to hold the same recognition that the shopkeeper had shown, and yet one might assume the man had met a wider variety of citizens than had the shopkeeper. “A room for the night, or a meal and a mug of ale?” The man assumed his job quite reasonably.
“A room for myself, and my manservant.” Korin spoke with the feigned ease of one used to command. “After we have settled, a meal and some good wine, if you have such?” Korin looked the question as his host, and was pleased that the fellow looked abashed.
“We provide a variety of wines to our patrons, good sir.” He reached beneath the counter top and retrieved what appeared to be a room key. “We have but two large rooms, but one is presently available. I charge a silver coin per night for the room, and another for the meal.” Korin turned to Ostlen, who was retrieving the sack he had hidden somewhere on his person.
“I will take the room for three nights, and we shall see about the meals after we have rested.” Korin spoke with the learned arrogance of one used to command. “I am weary from the road, and wish time to get refreshed.”
“I will have water taken to your room immediately.” The man seemed only now to take note of the crest over his right breast, and his demeanor changed to one more subservient. As accustomed as he was becoming to people’s reaction to his attire, there was still some mystery as to why the regular citizenry would hold the Academy in such high esteem. Korin had known that theirs was a position of honor at the Academy, but he was bewildered by the aver person’s reaction to one wearing the cloak of a Justice. In their element, it was assumed that they would hold positions of great honor, but what role did they play in the realm that afforded such high regard among the citizenry.
Ostlen took lead up the stairs, and Korin followed along as he assumed was expected. The room was well appointed, possessing a large bed for the “master” and a small, yet comfortable cot for the servant. There was a large wardrobe for the storage of unworn clothing, and a bedside table with a ready drawer for personal effects. The smallish table was appointed with four matching chairs, and appeared designed for use in dining as well as writing. It even possessed a small portal to house an inkwell on the side nearest the wall. All in all, it seemed comfortable enough to service their needs, and provide the appearance of status that was needed for their circumstances.
“We have some other needs that you may not have considered.” Ostlen spoke while Korin was removing his cloak, in preparation for putting the bed to good use. “You will need a couple changes of clothes, and I suspect I should wear some form of livery.” His ever-practical companion was again pointing out issues that Korin would have over-looked for the moment. “We have coin, and a little time before businesses close for the day, so I suggest that I go out and see if we cannot put that time to good use.”
A purposeful rap at the door interrupted their conversation. Ostlen immediately called for the person to enter, and the door opened to reveal a young serving girl bearing a basin of steaming water. He eyes swept the room, searching for a place to set her burden down. Korin indicated the table, and the young woman hurriedly proceeded across the floor to release her charge. “Be careful you do not scald yourself, sir.” The last word came out hesitantly, as though she was uncomfortable with the term.
“My master thanks you, now be off while he cleans up from the road.” Ostlen ushered the young lady out the door as he spoke. Having closed the door, he turned to his companion with an odd smile on his face. “Me thinks the young lady favored you!” He spoke with an emphasis on the last word, and Korin felt heat rising in his face. He had not noticed anything out of the ordinary, so he was confused by the statement.
“I am sure she was just anxious about meeting one of my supposed status. Everyone seems to have odd reactions to meeting me.” Korin felt the flush of embarrassment, due to Ostlen’s comment. He had no experience with such things. There had been little contact with women at the Academy, and then only aged serving woman who performed a variety of cleaning duties. There had been little or no contact with the outside world during his stay and the instructors were little concerned with such matters themselves, having wedded themselves to their duties.
The smile did not leave Ostlen’s face, but he controlled it so as to avoid placing more strain on his friend. “That may be, but she very nearly forgot to address you properly.” Korin tried to control his reaction, and his friend came back to the matter being discussed before the interruption. “If you have no objection, I will collect your clothes and be off on my errands.” He did not leave the statement open to objection. “I think it best that I lock up as I’m leaving and leave orders that you not be disturbed while I am gone.”
Korin nodded his agreement. He realized suddenly that Ostlen was waiting for him to undress. It was foolish to feel modest at such a time, but he was not accustomed to companions. He set about the task, with a feigned casualness that his friend simply accepted. Korin assumed that he would grow accustomed to this role with time, but he hoped that his companion did not expect him to carry on this charade over long. The suggestion that he accept servants as a part of his day-to-day life was something he could not bear to contemplate.
Ostlen gathered up his clothing, and gave his companion an odd look before turning toward the door. “I will return in a short while with this outfit brushed and measured. Do not answer the door for any reason.” His sense of warning, he stepped to the door, opened it, and stepped out. Korin heard the latch turn as his friend locked up behind him, and then he was alone.
He set about the task of cleaning himself a little before laying down for some needed rest. His mind stayed quiet for the few minutes it took to clean dust from his face and hair. While he used the proffered cloth to run the hot water over his arms and chest, his mind began to trace the path that had led him here. He could not maintain a grasp on the random events that had directed him to this inn, so he found himself wondering what had caused events to fall in the order that they had. Fate was not something he was unaccustomed to debating, but he had usually favoured the side of refuting it’s role in the lives of men, so it was unusual for him to be contemplating a different position as it related to him. Having finished his rudimentary effort, he crawled into the bed, and lay down with his mind still occupied with concerns for his next step, and oddly, the refined shape of a young lady’s cheekbone.
Korin started from his sleep what seemed like only moments later, to a darkened room. The room was so dark he could barely make out the shadows of it’s sparse furnishings. He had a sense of being watched, or of not being alone. He rolled over, and sat up to orient himself properly. “You sleep soundly, my friend, if not so quietly.” Ostlen’s dry chuckle, from his place on the cot, frightened him enough that he had to catch himself halfway out of his bed. He barely withheld a muttered curse, as he settled back onto the bedside.
“Do you enjoy sitting in the dark, or do you do this simply to startle me?” His sense of humor could not allow him to be angry, but he dearly wished to get the better of his friend occasionally. “Is it possible for you to light a lamp, a candle, or some such. I can barely make you out in the dark.” Korin was not really upset with being startled, and felt a pang of guilt at displaying his frustration in this manner.
“Is that better, Master?” Ostlen could not conceal his humor at Korin’s attitude, but he was more than happy to point it out to him. A small lamp gave off a fair amount of light in the small area. Korin did not speak for a moment while he watched his companion walk across the floor to a second, larger lamp attached to the wall above the table. “I was able to purchase a couple shirts suited to match your outfit, so you’ll have a fresh shirt to wear down stairs.” He pointed at the foot of the bed as he spoke, and Korin saw there were several items laid out there. The fellow may not be accustomed to such garb, but he knew something of the care needed to keep it presentable.
“I thank you for running those errands.” Korin spoke more calmly this time. “I have no right to speak to you in such a manner, and I do apologize.” Ostlen seemed shocked at his honesty, and shrugged his indifference. “How long have you been sitting here in the dark?”
The fellow smiled at the question. “I have only been here a few moments, and suspect that my entrance disturbed your sleep. You made no racket here either; I was merely poking fun, and it could be that I go too far sometimes. You are coping well with the experiences you have gone through these last few das. I know not what you left behind, but I expect it was not pleasant.” Korin was not companion about the events of the last two days. He was unsure if it was his shame that prevented it, or his belief that Ostlen could not understand. He suspected that he told himself the latter only so that he could excuse the shame he felt over his treatment of a friend.
“I suppose, I could very well have taken my clothing myself.” Korin spoke as he moved to begin dressing, giving only the slightest hint that he was poking fun at the fellow for taking issue with his assumed status. “I thank you for the assistance you have provided, and hope the meals taste as well as they smell.” He made short work of dressing, and hung the other two shirts in the wardrobe where he found hangers enough to hold a dozen outfits. He took small pleasure in the look of surprise on Ostlen’s face when he opened the mirror to stow away his belongings. When he completed his task, he strode toward the door, catching himself brushing away a nonexistent wrinkle in his new shirt.
He was surprised to see what shocked Ostlen, and what did not. He suspected that if he went down to the common room and caused a conflict, the fellow would calmly break it up as though there has been nothing unusual, but not knowing that a wardrobe was used to hang clothing so they would not be wrinkled shook him. The pair descended the stairs, and entered the still busy common room. Most of the patrons were finished with their evening meal, and taking their ease with drinks. There was a different man at the serving counter, than had been there when they came in, but apparently, he had been made aware of Korin’s status, for he quickly called a serving girl to find them a well-appointed table.
The young lady who came out was unfamiliar to them, and Korin felt a pang of regret. He tried to shake off this foolish fascination with an unknown young woman, who had simply performed her duties and been polite. He consciously cursed his own foolishness, and held a little for his friend who had placed the idea in his head. The table they were taken to was not exceptional in any way, and he was hard pressed to refrain from commenting. Looking about the chamber, he saw that the furniture was all similar if it identical.
“What can I get you this evening?” The young lady asked as soon as they were seated. “I am told the meals are already paid for as are a couple of drinks.” The last sounded somewhat disappointed, although Korin could not understand the reason. “We have some fresh lamb. as well as beef and fowl.” Korin was not displeased with her service, so much as able to note the boredom in repeating what must be said a few dozen times a night.
“If it is not too much trouble, I would like to sample a variety this evening.” Korin was not accustomed to this sort of thing, and felt out of place. “I would like wine with my meal, red if you have any, and gt my man here what ever he desires as well.” This statement brought a sharp intake of breath from his companion, and a startled look from the serving woman. Even if it were inappropriate for him to order a meal or a drink for his companion, he would do it just the same. He could make some exceptions for appearances, but his companion would not want while he ate.
The woman walked away from the table, and Ostlen shook his head ruefully. “An ale would have been sufficient, Master, and would have created less gossip amongst the help.” His companion had a bland look on his face, looking every bit the doting servant, but his eyes held a firmness that spoke volumes. Some unusual activity caught Ostlen’s attention, and he glanced toward the serving counter. “Apparently, you created a stir amongst the help already, and I suspect impressed a fan.” The amused look on his face was similar enough that Korin did not need look up to know his meaning.
He felt a sense of exhilaration course through him, and felt foolish about it. Korin was attempting to act the part of a sophisticated man of letters, and it would not do for him to act over the young woman he met. He suspected that he would meet many women now that he had left behind his austere life, for the world of men. “I am unfamiliar with such things. There were no choices of meals at the Academy, nor selections of drink. If I error, it is out of ignorance.”
Ostlen looked at him with wonderment. “I should have given you more information.” He whispered this so that none could hear, and a little louder said. “I believe she was surprised by your request for a variety of meats, as she was by the request for wine. It is not often they encounter a gentleman with taste.” The last was said with good humor, and Korin felt himself relax a little, though he wondered if his friend did not poke fun at him with the use of titles.
The young lady who had brought water to his room came bearing a flask of wine, and two matching glasses. “The kitchen is a flutter with talk of the lordling who buys wine for his servant.” she said in amused tones while she placed the bottle and glasses on the table. “Would you like me to pour, sir, or do you prefer to have your companion do so?” She spoke formally, yet Korin detected another questioning glance from this unusual person.
“I believe that I am capable of pouring my own drink, although you may do so if you like.” He knew this time that both his companion and the serving woman would be taken aback, but he wished not to be the butt of yet another joke later in the evening. He was rewarded with widened eyes staring down at him, and the, now familiar, sharp intake of breath from Ostlen. Korin could not help but smile a little this time, as he had anticipated the reactions he received.
“My master meant no disrespect; I assure you.” Ostlen spoke in an attempt to cover yet another of his blunders. It did not seem to matter what he id this day; he could not seem to act in the way he intended. His face must have confirmed his companion’s words, for the young lady calmed visibly, before curtsying and stepping away from the table. This time he did not restrain the desire to blaspheme, and received another odd look from his companion.
Korin took a drink of his wine, but he lost the desire necessary to enjoy it’s body and flavor. The two sat in silence until the meal was served. He was gratified to see that the young woman had chosen to return, rather than send someone else. She did not speak, though, and went about duties professionally, before retreating to the back. They ate in silence then, as Korin avoided speaking through out their meal. He seemed to have done enough speaking for one day it seemed.
They had nearly finished their meal when the young lady returned, and offered to refill their glasses. Korin did not look up, feeling foolish, and wishing he had words that could explain his actions. Ostlen must have indicated to do so for she went about the task quietly. “Was there anything else I could gt for you, Sir?” He was somewhat dismayed that she had directed the question, so that he had little choice but to respond.
“I believe that we are content, and my thanks.” He tried to avoid meeting her eyes; as he feared that his feelings would be visible in his eyes. He failed to do so, and their eyes locked for a moment, before she curtsied and turned away. “I was not offended, by word or deed, my lady, and I am sorry you misunderstood.” Her head snapped back to stare at him a brief moment, and then she continued on her way.
Ostlen gave a brief sign, and did nothing to conceal the smile that had appeared on his face. “You make it difficult to predict the next moment, my friend.” He said in a whisper, for none but Korin to hear. “That young lady does not know what to think of you now. I know you speak from the heart, and did not doubt about the apology when I gave it, but this makes her wonder at you once more. A man of some status who buys wine for his servant, and takes the time to apologize to a serving girl who was too forward by a league.” Ostlen took a sip of his wine, and made a face that suggested it was not to his liking. “You do realize that she was embarrassed, and not offended.” He spoke as though pointing out the obvious, and smiled again at the expression on Korin’s mystified face.
“I did not feel that she was forward at all. I am not ever sure what it was that I said that garnered the reaction I received.” Korin spoke quietly as well, and was more annoyed by the amused expression on Ostlen’s face. “I sometimes believe that I should refrain from speaking altogether. I seem unable to make sense of any of this formality.”
“That much is clear, Master, but I do not believe that we could explain away your lack of speech.” His amusement did not detract from Korin’s discomfort, and he wished he could simply leave the room without making yet another scene. He wished that he did not feel the leap of exhilaration when she walked into the room. Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed without further incident, mostly due to Korin not speaking again. He had the impression that the young lady was measuring him, trying to ascertain the person who did such disparate things, and he was unable to even respond.
Category: Fiction, Immortal Words |
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Tags: Fiction, Korin, Ostlen