CHAPTER NINE
An Evening of Shopping and Taverns
Over the hill from Yarros Arena lay the tiny Mercer Village, home to the Leiber Guild.
The streets were merely made of mud, everything reeked of alcohol, and a light drizzle slowly washed away the goblin gore on Em’s fellowship. They trudged along the crammed wooden buildings, avoiding trampling any careless chickens under the threatening eye of the watchful villagers.
Intriguing shop windows tempted her with collections of proper travel gear and clothing. Bakeries and apothecaries displayed much-needed goods in her opinion, but Faylorn huffed at Polo’s constant begging to go shopping.
“We haven’t all day,” the wizard grumbled. “We must find the inn and check with the locals regarding the best route to reach the Dragon’s lair in the Doomed Mountain.”
“I’m starving!” Polo complained, his tail drooping. “And my feet hurt. And I’m sleepy. And I need to pee. And I have a headache.”
“There will be food at the Long Rest Tavern, Polo Took-Took,” Faylorn huffed.
Em’s stomach gurgled. She’d thrown up everything left in her guts after the Elves dispersed, and they left the piles of burning goblin corpses behind. She leaned a little more on Roden’s tall wolf, Midnight, for support.
It’s been a fucking long day.
“Faylorn’s right,” Roden brooded, his wide strut exaggerating his dramatically flowing black cape behind him. “If Kriqir the Living knew we were at Yarros Arena, no doubt he’ll send more goblins after Em to prevent her from finding the dragon relic.”
A mob of shouting villagers ran past them, bearing torches and pitchforks. A small, protesting halfling fled from them, a stolen chicken tucked under his arm.
“What the what?” Polo exclaimed.
“Don’t touch or hit the chickens,” Faylorn warned.
Em cracked a smile at the odd sight.
“We should check with the Leiber Guild,” Gair interjected. “We will need troops and strong adventurers to protect us as we set out for the mountain to defeat Brolzross!”
“Hush!” Roden slapped a gloved hand over the dragon mutant’s mouth. “Don’t spill our plans out into the open. You never know whose ears may be listening in.”
Em glanced across the road at clusters of adventuring guild members crowded around a nearby billboard outside the sagging village watchtower. The sprawling script was bold enough for her to read even from a distance:
LEIBER GUILD—ADVENTURERS WANTED
Druid Bard for finding a lost mermaid
Clerics for healing rituals…
In passing, Em skimmed briefly over the dozens of original, fresh potential adventures and stories just waiting for Main Characters to claim them.
Even the diversity of adventurer parties reading over the job listings tugged at her need for originality; the mixture of species, genders, and attire was infinitely better than the group she traveled with.
It was like her dreams of a real story were just across the road, just out of reach.
“Why don’t we pick up a Side Quest?” she offered to her companions.
They all glanced over their shoulders at her, and even Midnight snorted. Their eyebrows shot upwards with their mixture of unamused expressions at the notion.
“We don’t have time, lass,” Faylorn pushed.
“We also don’t have any money. How are we supposed to pay to stay at the inn or buy any food?” Em asked. “Couldn’t a quick job get us some coin?”
And something original to disrupt this shitty plot?
“We don’t need any more Side Characters, princess,” Roden growled. “The prophecy says ‘she’ll become Queen, aided by a mentor, who will probably die and become a ghost. Three other adventurers will join her for growth…’ You already have a full party of adventurers for this quest.”
Em wrinkled her nose, but she couldn’t find a response under the weight of the half-elf’s violet glare.
Everyone stared at one another for a moment before Faylorn repeated, “We don’t have time, lass.”
She dragged her feet and swore under her breath, with no other choice than to follow her cliché, unoriginal group toward the inn ahead. It was like the shitty quest wanted to always piss her off and disappoint her at the same time.
In bright yellow letters, from a green painted sign, the Long Rest Tavern and Inn revealed itself. The smoky chimney, the gruff voices from the inside, the flickering firelight through the smudgy windows, and the burning reek of beer swarmed Em’s senses. Her empty, exhausted stomach sank further.
A stereotypical inn for a cliché adventure time-jump for a trope-filled night, sure to end in some sort of unplanned disaster.
Fucking-absolutely-wonderful.
“They seem pretty busy,” Gair noted.
“Your mom seems pretty busy,” Polo chimed in. “She’s always writing me the steamiest letters.”
“Shut up, Polo,” Gair swatted at the imp, but the sidekick dodged in a fit of giggles. “You’re useless, you know that?”
“The Long Rest Tavern is one of the limited places within this realm that allows adventurers to spend the night,” Faylorn said, stepping up onto the groaning porch. His staff thumped against the wooden boards. “You will find no place with better mead or more crude adventurers.”
“Well, I don’t mind sharing a room if you don’t,” Gair nudged Em’s arm.
She brushed him off with a glare. “No. Thank you.”
“We will very likely have to all bunk together,” Roden said, glowering at Gair, as usual. “Don’t get too comfortable with each other.”
“As long as I get my own bed, I don’t care,” Em muttered.
“I can snuggle you, Gair,” Polo offered. “Help you untie all those laces on your shirt.”
“No, thanks.” The dragon mutant wrinkled his nose.
“Come along, friends,” Faylorn called, slipping into the sweaty, humid, dim tavern. Songs and chaos nearly drowned out his words. “Watch where you step, there’s a lot of gambling and tomfoolery that goes on around here.”
“Just my type of people!” Polo whooped.
Em begrudgingly entered the smelly tavern, loud chatter and a bard’s lute overwhelming her.
People scurried about, barmaids carrying trays of steins, adventurers bartering with one another for information, couples making out by the huge hearth.
It was absolutely cliché, complete with the large, bald barbarian mending the table-top bar.
Sure enough, various parties of adventurers mused over small trays of crystal dice. Except, they weren’t gambling—they were making choices regarding their plans tomorrow based on what the dice told them.
Oh. Em processed the guild, the various classes of people, the assortment of species. This is a LitRPG region.
Faylorn had taken her from the cliché fantasy realm into the region of role-play-based stories. She was getting awfully close to the Fan-Fiction Theaters at this rate.
I need originality, she prayed, not sure if her Great Author could hear her. Please. I don’t know what to do anymore, and I’m beginning to give up. Just give me a sign I’m not completely doomed.
Okay.
Em slid into one of the stools at the crowded bar, Gair and Roden settling on either side of her.
“I’ll check with the Innkeeper if there are any rooms left,” Faylorn said, disappearing into the crammed crowds of unwashed bodies, cleavage, leather, and proportionally large weapons. “And then I’ll backtrack into the woods to ensure no goblins followed us.”
“I want my own bed!” Em yelled at the wizard.
“What will ya folks be having?” the bartender asked, wiping a stein with a ragged dish towel. His canvas apron had a small wooden pin over his heart with large letters spelling out REX.
“Nothing,” Gair said. “I don’t drink.”
“Ale, hot,” Roden ordered dryly.
“And for the princess?” the bartender, Rex, nodded toward Em.
Em had never drunk alcohol before. Her dad had worked hard to sober up when she was a baby after he spent a few years nursing trauma from a ghostly horror flick he’d been sucked into.
Mom had preferred cozy teas on cold winter days.
The idea of drinking never occurred to her, nor sounded interesting, but she was desperate enough with the gory images from the attack this afternoon haunting her mind to try.
“Whatever is sweet,” she requested.
“Sweet?” Rex laughed.
“Yeah,” Em sank a little in her stool. “I like sweet.”
“You from Greentown?” the bartender asked her, motioning to her wrinkled, loose chemise. Compared to the other lavish guild adventurers around her, Em stuck out for being too plain. But it wasn’t like she was in shorts and a tee-shirt or something that a contemporary Main Character would wear.
She scowled at herself, hugging her arms over her chest. I cannot be a plain Jane. I need to be original.
“No, I’m from Adventuras Island.”
“Not many pure-blooded humans come to visit these parts,” Rex said.
“Did you assume my species?” Em asked.
The giant man stumbled, his reddening face matching his hair. “Oh… no… I am sorry.”
She bit back her laugh and waved him off.
“Most peculiar.” Rex sucked in his hairy cheeks, pausing his cleaning.
“We don’t get many of your higher-classed character types around here.
Most of us are all Secondary Characters just trying to build our resumes and fulfill Side Quests.
What brings a human Main Character like you out in these parts? ”
“That’s enough questions,” Roden growled, fist slamming on the wooden bar top. “Just get the girl a drink.”
“Huh.” Rex narrowed his dark eyes at the glaring half-elf, then shrugged it off. “Suit yourself.”
The bartender disappeared into the kitchen behind a swinging door.
Across the tavern, Polo sang out of tune with the Tiefling bard, dancing about. The poor girl’s purple complexion blued a touch, and her cheeks twitched at the obnoxious imp, but she didn’t stop him. No doubt, the bard kept her spirits up in hopes of earning some extra coin for her performance.