She sat, looking into her mug as she listened to the jongleur. "The champion this, the champion that." She thought, scowling to herself. "If the champion is so damn perfect, why do they always die a tragic death?"
The girl sighed, rolled her shoulders then leaned back against the chair seat before massaging her temples, "the Champion."
She had been to many taverns in many different places and heard several bards and jongleurs over the past few years. As she listened to this one, she thought he was one of the best she had heard. His voice was very soothing yet entrancing, and only a few words into the story and the jongleur had nearly the entire tavern wrapped up in his tale. This jongleur, she thought, had the skill to be performing in front of kings and queens. It made her wonder why someone so talented would be reciting his tales in this small, no-name town.
She sighed again, finally looking away from her ale and turning to pay attention to the jongleur. Most jongleurs would introduce themselves before beginning their tale, as many stories were written by the jongleur themselves and wanted the credit. She recalled that he had spoken his name, but couldn't remember what he had called himself. He was thin for a tavern jongleur; the vast majority of the ones she saw were overweight due to the generosity of patrons with food and liquor. He was very striking, the girl thought absently. Charcoal black hair hanging shaggily to his shoulders, framing a sharp nose and angular cheekbones on an ashen, almost white, face. As she focused on his words, her perception of her surroundings faded, and the story came to life.
"Overlooking a crumbling castle, its name lost in time, stood a champion of the goddess. Her golden hair blowing in the wind. Unwavering eyes looked towards the sun, seeming to glow gold and become mercurial as they took in the vanishing rays. Emerging from the elongating shadows were creatures so horrifying they would freeze all but the strongest of souls in their place. The champion prayed one last time to the goddess for strength against the darkness, threatening to devour the world.
"Three legendary weapons were carried. Two simple but razor-sharp broadswords on her back and a black hilted longsword on her hip. Removing her longsword, she ran down the hill towards the ruined castle. Creatures of all shapes raced to meet her. The quickest among them was cut down first. Her long sword was used effortlessly like it was an extension of her own arm. Soon she was surrounded by the monsters. Long-legged giant spider-like creatures and distorted wolf beings were the least terrifying as monsters came at her from all sides. As she moved, her golden eyes glowed, and each time she struck a gold beam of light shot out from the blade cutting through multiple creatures before dissipating. The magic burned as hot as the sun, a gift from the goddess that only her chosen possess.
"She was disarmed, her longsword stuck in a floating bulbous black body, the fiends howled a victory shout and closed in with increased fervour. Without losing her rhythm, the broadswords on her back came free of their sheaths, and she fought on, whirling, dealing death with every stroke. However, their numbers were endless. The golden glow in her eyes was slowly dimming as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Desperate to end the skirmish before the sun was gone, she screamed her frustration, head lifted to the goddess. A beam of blinding light shot upwards; it surrounded the girl, spreading outwards and incinerating everything in its path. Breathless, her shout stopped, and so did the light, blinking out as suddenly as it appeared. Bleeding from numerous cuts, she looked around her. The remaining shadow creature regrouped and came at her once more. Closing her eyes, which were now dull, drained of power, she took a deep breath knowing this was the end.
"Gruesomely, she fought on until a fatal blow broke through her guard and a gleaming, elongated claw scratched deep into her back. Dropping to her knees, blades falling from numb hands, she looked one last time at the sun before it dipped below the horizon, and the jaw of a massive dog ripped out her throat.
The world of Ocora was safe from the shadows for a while longer, their numbers a mear fraction of what they were. Now we wait for the next champion chosen by the goddess to once more save us all."
The story ended, leaving a hush around the tavern. It lasted a moment before applause disturbed the silence and chased it from the room. The girl blinked, her jaw, hanging ajar, was shut with a click of her teeth. Out of all the taverns she'd been to, out of all the jongleurs she'd listened to, this was the first time she'd witnessed such engagement, never having been sucked into the story quite like that. The applause died down, and the normal chatter began again. This chatter, too, felt hushed. Whether topics had moved on or the groups were discussing the enthralling story, the enthralling atmosphere stayed hovering over the tavern.
The girl shook her head, her eyes focussing on the jongleur, only to see ice staring back at her. The jongleur held her gaze, eyes narrowing, and head tilting. She knew what thoughts had to have been going through his mind. Her heart started pounding as she broke the connection.
"Oh, no," she panicked. "Oh, no, no, no."
She tugged the cowl she wore further over her chestnut hair, shadowing her face as much as she could manage, thinking, "that darn story, that damn jongleur. How could I let this happen?"
She roused herself from her dark corner, sliding through the tavern, heading for the exit. All else except for the jongleur fell from her mind as she sulked out of the tavern doors, faintly hearing him begin another tale as the cool night air filled the girl's lungs.
Not a moment passed before a serving girl came chasing after her shouting at the cloaked figure, "hey! Hey, get back here, you haven't paid!"
The server's cries fell on deaf ears as the mysterious stranger blinked out of sight, seeming to disappear into the darkness. The waitress stopped with a sigh. Hands on her hips, she muttered something about strangers who didn't pay as she went back to the tavern.
Anxiously, she looked about her to be sure she was not followed. Damned jongleur, him and his story, this is all his fault, the girl thought, as she once more checked her surroundings. Confident she was not being followed or nobody was there to see, she clamoured onto some crates beside a building and silently launched herself onto the roof.
"He saw my eyes, what do I do next, he knows." The phrase 'oh goddess, he knows' continued to repeat in her head. Dejectedly, accepting there was nothing to be done now, she looked into her coin purse. Only two coppers jingled together in the bottom. "Of course," she whispered softly to herself, "guess I will stay here tonight, grab what I can tomorrow, and hit the next town."
Sighing, she leapt from roof to roof until she was back at the town's tavern. Landing softly on the shingles, she scampered from window to window, looking inside while hanging upside down from the roof. Finding an empty room, she jimmied the window open, slipping inside and flopped on the bed. The moment her head hit the pillow she was asleep.
The sun came up the next morning, soft light warming her face, bringing her out of her restful sleep. After stretching out the kinks of sleep, she listened for any movement in the tavern. Hearing nothing, she silently opened the door. Being careful of any creaks, she stepped smoothly down the hall and the stairs. Double checking that the main floor was empty, she snuck into the kitchen, grabbed some bread and cheese, and went back to her borrowed room. Finishing her small breakfast, she climbed back out the window, closing it with a foot and lifting herself back onto the roof. Without much else to do, she spread out on the roof, watching the sunrise and waited for her moment.
As people woke up and started on their daily duties, folks left the tavern. She watched their comings and goings, relying on people's tendency to never look up to remain hidden. She slunk to the side of the roof that was hidden from the road, and lowered herself, checking a room below her for its occupant. Finding it devoid of people and items, she retreated and went to the next room. She was lucky with the next two and climbed in grabbing pawnable items and coins that were assumed to be safe. On her fourth attempt, she repeated her well-practiced pattern only to see the jongleur from the night before.
Hanging upside down, she paused for a moment, struck once again by his angular features and snow-white skin. He was sitting on the bed softly strumming his lute, mouthing words in what she assumed was a song he would be performing tonight. The melody, although quiet, drifted through the slightly open window. It was breathtaking, slow, and haunting; it wasn't like anything she had heard before. As though sensing eyes on him, he looked sharply at the window where the girl had pulled herself up just in time. Concerned, he set the instrument onto the bed and walked to the window, throwing it open. He leaned out, and the girl could see the top of his head as he looked around. Satisfied that it was just his imagination, he closed the window with a sigh.
'That was close, too close,' she thought, releasing a held breath once the window was closed. She peered into her coin purse, now marginally fuller than the previous night. Among the coins was also a pair of earrings and a gold ring. Just enough to get her to the next town. Not wanting to hang around any longer, she waited until only a few people were around, none paying attention to the tavern. She dropped down from the roof, straightened her clothes, and walked into the street.
It was a larger town, large enough to have a small market in the town square. Making her way there, she purchased bread, cheeses, and dried meats that would keep well on her trip, tossing the items in a small bag she kept thrown over her shoulder. There was the occasional stolen item that made it into her possession, but she did not push her luck. Once her shopping was done, she shouldered her bag and started North towards the next town.
***
The jongleur, still unnerved by the feeling of being watched in the morning, looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time as he wandered the market, purchasing supplies. With his shopping finished, he rushed back to the tavern as it was nearing dinner time. There was just enough time for him to scarf down some stew before it was time to work. He was silently hoping that the girl with the golden eyes would return. All morning he had worked on a new melody, one that he was sure would enthrall everyone. Perhaps it would convince the girl to stay after he was done for the night. He wanted to talk to her.
His performance was spectacular, and he knew it. Confidence seeped off of him in waves, dragging the audience deeper and deeper into his melody. His eyes kept scanning the crowd, jumping from face to face, scouring the room. By now it was midnight, the end of the night, and he had yet to see the mysterious woman.
"Well done, once again, Sojourn," the tavern owner slapped him on the back. "Sure, you can't stay one more night? Business's booming thanks to you."
Sojourn shook his head, "sorry, my business here is done. Time for me to move on. Next time I'm coming through, I'll be sure to stop by."
"Shame, sad to see you go," the big man replied. He tossed a green leather bag at Sojourn, his payment. Without another word, Sojourn retired to his room, looking over his shoulder once more before shutting and locking his door.
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