The wooden board hung overhead, only inches above Argon's tall frame. It's frame was lined with rusted iron.
"Silver Boar? What's that?" Zacks innocent thirst for knowledge warming the hearts of the tired travellers.
"An animal. Said to roam the highlands grazing on greens and flesh alike." Argon's tall frame ducked under the door, "they're rare. Years ago, I heard stories of them leaving a trail of silver shrooms wherever they went."
Following the retired adventurer into the tavern, the group was hit by a tide of sound and smell. Sizzling cuts of meat let out an appetizing aroma, the floorboards croaked under the boots of the varied folk dispersed among the tables.
Cups of ale swung wildly, in beat with a bard's tales.
Men and women of all shapes and sizes cheered at every high of the bards tale, and let their displeasure be known at every low.
"Let me tell you! The tale of heroes bold,
Deep in Thornveil Woods, a man took his hold.
Shoulder to shoulder with every soldier there,
Young was he, with a beard yet sparse in hair.
Yet his back did not bend, his knees did not slow,
Through beast and demon, he faced every blow.
His spear lay shattered, his sword lost to the fray,
Still he stood unwavering, come what may.
"Stand tall!" he cried, "Let hope never die!
For hope is unyielding, it will never say goodbye!"
And with that cry, an azure blaze split the sky,
A fire of courage that none could deny.
There in that blaze, the man stood proud,
Unbowed, unbroken, a beacon to the crowd.
Back unbent, knees unshaken, he faced the night,
A single figure bathed in Solara's light.
When all seemed lost, he did not fall,
A hero to inspire, to rally us all.
So remember this, when darkness lies near:
Stand tall, my friends, for courage conquers fear.
In Thornveil Woods, the legend still grows,
Of the man whose back did not bend, whose resolve only rose."
The chaotic room had all but come to a standstill, hanging on every word of the bard. A faint shimmer danced through wandering steam.
Croakkkkk
Argon's heavy foot pressed down on the floor, throwing the enamoured crowd out of their revelry.
"Welcome, Welcome." The barkeeper was the first to speak, "fresh faces are always welcome. What would you like? A night? A meal? A story?"
His thin frame wore a neat suit, a freckled face greeted their eyes.
"How about all three?" Zack bounded in, escaping the clutches of Elara.
"All three, coming right up! Make yourself at home."
Soon, Valen led them towards a round table sitting in the corner. Shaded from the light filtering in through shallow cracks that let fresh air into the cacophony of sweat and spices.
Sitting down on a solid chair felt almost luxurious, following the chaotic journey they had been on for the past few days.
"Ahh this reminds me of my heyday..." Argon mused, "back when I still had my trusty hammer."
The groups eyes flickered between his eyes and the hammer resting in his belt.
"This is a trusty hammer, don't get me wrong. But it's not my trusty hammer." Noticing the stares that shouted idiot, he continued. "I wasn't always a builder. I had a hammer as tall and wide as me once." His eyes shining with nostalgia, "now that was a trusty hammer."
"Then why did you swap hammers?" Zack questioned.
It was the elderly nun who responded this time, "my child, there will come a day when breaking things no longer satisfies your soul. No longer fulfills you."
Her hand gently stroked Zacks brown hair. "And when destroying things doesn't work, you move onto building them."
The room had begun to listen to the elderly nun speak, her robes giving away her occupation. "I was once a battle nurse. We fought side by side with soldiers, and healed side by side with the nurses."
Valen's mind began to wander, having heard this story countless times.
"But one day, I couldn't fight fierce enough. I couldn't heal the dead. And so I retired, much like Argon here. That is why I spend my days raising children that I did not birth. I'm atoning for the lives I could not save."
It did not wander without purpose, he was thinking of his next steps, counting the coins in his leather pouch.
"I'm atoning for being the last survivor of a group far greater than I-"
"Boss! Put their tab on ours." A rough voice called out from one of the tables, interrupting the old woman before she could sink deeper. A rough scar marring a face deeper than should've been possible.
"Thank you. It's because of people like you I live, my brothers live. Do not atone for surviving. Rejoice for saving so many lives like my own."
A wave of cheers spread around the tavern, before swiftly being drowned by a round of alem
After a short wait, passed in small talk and board games, a steaming pot of stew hit their round table.
"Eat up, greenbark mushrooms and a dash of moonberries, a stew fit for travellers!"
Lyra quickly dished out 4 portions of the stew, while Valen handed out some complimentary bread.
"Umm... Where's mine?" Argon looked at the empty spot in front of him, then to the plated meals in front of the four others.
"The stews in the middle, help yourself." Lyra's teasing voice shot an arrow through the poor adventurers heart.
A round of laughter drove the arrow deeper.
A dozen minutes later, the stew was all but finished, and the bread was entirely gone.
"Ahhh, what a great meal." Argon had already recovered from the emotional damage, his cheeky grin returned to the his subtly pleasant face.
"So, we need both coin and knowledge, right?"
Valen was quick to answer, his tone even and his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back against the wooden chair. "Yes, Coin and knowledge. We can put aside coin for now. The dwarves were kind enough to tip us a silver coin."
"Silver? Is that expensive?" Zack questioned almost immediately.
"Coins are what run the world. Be it a warm meal or a sturdy roof, you need coin. And coins are not all equal. Copper, bronze, silver, gold all exist. There's rumours of a platinum coin but the ore itself is said to be a myth, let alone the coins."
"Got it, coins are like fruits." Zack quickly compared it to the currency that plagued his youth.
"Not quite, but close enough." The group chuckled at the adorable antics of the child.
Soon, the barkeeper approached, swiftly clearing the table before spraying something that smelt almost citrusy across the table.
"Say, Boss. Where would one get information here?" Valen spun a copper coin on top of his open palm.
"The library." The freckled man spoke almost matter of factly. His head tilted in an almost confused manner.
"...got you. And where is the library?"
"Two lefts then a right. Large building, impossible to miss." The man quickly replaced his perplexed expression with his professional people pleaser face. "If you're lucky, you'll meet that genius."
"Genius?"
"The Genius of Valthar."
The name settled heavier than it should have.
Even the noise of the tavern seemed, for a moment, to dim.