Havir frowned discontentedly at the sight of the village's only inn. The facade was half-ruined, the paint was peeling, and the sign hung down on a chain and squeaked in the wind. But what made him even more uncomfortable were the "guests" the house was hosting. One drunk after another stumbled out, escorted by a not very friendly looking unwashed bear of a man.
He could probably put the good food, soft bed and good company thing to rest. Here he was happy if nobody tried to steal his shoes or assassinate him at night.
Either he rented here or he took the forest floor, which offered under guarantee also less animal mattress roommates. However, his battered body was crying out for a hot tub, so he would take the risk.
Unimpressed by Havir's safety and cleanliness concerns, Phoenice tried to pull him toward the small brick building where she suspected the library was. There were no books at home, so she was all the more crazy about the knowledge inside. Whenever people talked about the contents of books or mothers read to their children, she had soaked it all up from her seat. She couldn't wait to read all those books and hold them in her hands.
A quick glance was enough for Havir to know where she was headed. Night was already falling and it was getting much colder. He thought it more advisable to provide shelter first. The idea of the library was a stroke of genius on his part. She would have had to get a map there anyway. He had last walked the path 200 years ago, if he remembered correctly. People liked to build for a living and who knew if everything was still as he remembered it.
"First we need a room." He would never have dreamed 3 days ago that he would once be a guest in such a rat-infested hole. Where he usually lived in luxury.
The closet room was dark, noisy, smoky and he was threatening to get his feet stuck to the floor. Havir decided that it would be better to move out again before sunrise, before he saw the disaster in the light. Even now he felt an urgent desire to scrub himself down thoroughly.
At four shabby wooden tables of the room sat noisy roaring men who started bawling loudly for Phoenice when the unusual couple entered. In Havir's opinion, these guys had already had more than enough to drink. Two of them stood up and approached the two room seekers with staggering steps. Fearfully, Phoenice clung to Havir's arm and watched the potential danger. She just wanted to get out, the smoke scratched her lungs and burned her eyes, plus her ears began to rush from the unpleasant volume.
Havir turned around and pushed the elf behind her so that she could escape the Trunk's grasp.
He needed only one look to force the men back to their places.
"Innkeeper!" he yelled, standing at the counter to make himself heard.
"Yes." the owner of the inn was as shabby as his store. Dirt, sweat and blood stuck to his clothes, food scraps hung in his beard the date of which Havir didn't even want to know, his leathery skin riddled with scars that surely came from brawls.
"We need two rooms." the thick, bearded man's peal of laughter brought tears of bad breath to Havir's eyes.
"There's only one room here, and you can share it with your old lady." His collar was about to burst. He was Havir the Magnificent, the mage who had once terrified the council, what was this stinking man thinking? The tearing of his cloak made him look down. Phoenice face was as white as a sheet, she was trembling all over.
"What's it doing?" He forced himself to ask grudgingly.
"Two shillings with food you better take it upstairs, I don't want no trouble here."
"I am Havir the..." Phoenice nudged him shaking his head so he reluctantly paid the completely overpriced price. No sooner had the innkeeper stuffed the coins into his tattered pants than he yelled for the waitress. Who hurriedly came to him.
"Take these fine people upstairs and lock up, they'll get their food there too," the young woman nodded eagerly. She grabbed a key from under the counter and gestured for them to follow. Their path led them past the drunks, up a flight of stairs, down a hallway to a heavy wooden door. The mage was surprised by the very solid-looking door, considering that the rest of the place seemed to be made of paper. He felt his fear confirmed.
The young waitress unlocked the door and looked around carefully before whispering to the couple.
"Lock the door well, lock the windows. The men are keen on your wife, leave the village as soon as possible. King Tallus is stealing the pretty ones all over the country. His spies are everywhere here." With that, she left the room in a hurry, as the innkeeper was already shouting for her again.
"Give her the glittery one, people are happy about it."
Faced with so much cluelessness, Havir was speechless. Even the dumbest elf should know what money was!
"You haven't been out much, have you?" Phoenice began to chew on her lower lip, wondering if she could tell him the truth about herself, but decided against it. She trusted him to get her there, but not so much that she would trust him with her life. Too often she had seen her sisters killed by someone because they trusted her. As soon as most learned what they were, greed set in.
"No." she at least only wanted to lie to him if she couldn't help it.
"The glittering thing is money. It means food, shelter and clothing for people. The more of it they have the happier they are." he explained patiently.
"Mages barter."
"Right, we can conjure things like food." Phoenice puffed out her cheeks in thought.
"That's not fair." she concluded, looking at him as if he were personally to blame. Havir felt it was getting too much. As if it was his fault that the humans were disadvantaged in the gifts to the gods. He searched the room for a bath tub. There was nothing in the room except a filthy bed, a chair and a table. Two shillings this bastard had robbed him more than he had guessed. He would love to give this fatso a good gout or the pox.
Havir wanted to bathe and he would bathe! With a determined stride, he yanked open the door and yelled for the attendant.
"Yes, sir?" Startled, she ran to them.
"I want a tub and bring what you call food." with that he slammed the wood shut.
"You monster! The poor girl."
"I am Havir the Great and I demand a bath. It's only because of you and your sister that I'm sitting here in this hole now!" he accused her.
"No, you are Havir the Conceited who thinks everything and everyone should be at your feet!" she angrily glared at him. This mage was the most arrogant, self-absorbed, mean-spirited egotistical and lazy guy she knew. He made her so furious with his self-absorption that the demon threatened to burst to the surface.
A soft almost timid knock interrupted the arguing.
"Master, we have the water and the tub for you." The girl, who had been smiling so friendly before, now looked completely frightened. She did not even dare to look at Havir. She looked stubbornly at the dirty floor while six men groaned, scolding and carrying the filled tub up the stairs. Phoenice's soul bled for the waitress. Ignoring Havir, she grabbed from his coat, which he had laid on the bed, some of the glitter they called money. She hugged the young woman, putting the coins in her pocket, who looked at her in surprise, but returned the warmth.
The waitress grasped her new friend's hands gratefully. Before she gave them another quick squeeze and followed the men out.
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