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This place is trash, Aric analyzed the tavern in disgust.
Granted, he had been in worse, but given how little he slept and how much he ached, the dank tavern wasn’t something he found comforting. The people were annoyingly drunk, and the scent of sweat and rot made him question if something else had died besides their spirits. There were cards being played and conversations being struck, things that were familiar to see, but the fact he was soaking wet from the pouring rain only made him more irritable. He barely found a place for his horse along the side of the building, and when he entered the tavern, he felt that maybe sleeping outside would have been easier.
Pushing his way to the bar, he sat his crossbow down at his feet and pulled off his hood. His hair had come undone from its tie, the rain matting part of it against his face and neck, which he wiped away in order to collect himself.
“Need a drink or a room?” the tavern keeper asked, approaching him head on.
“Both,” Aric admitted. “Do you have anything stronger than ale?”
“I’ve got some whiskey,” the man offered, which Aric nodded that that would do.
As his drink was poured, Aric listened in around him. There was no point looking; nothing admirable was happening. Even some harlots joined the charade, seeking clients and shelter in the same place, and that was something he didn’t care to see. But listening had always been easier, eavesdropping into conversations. It always worked to his benefit.
Taking a swig of the whiskey, he winced as it burned his throat but enjoyed feeling the heat, the only thing warming his body. He continued to listen to the crowd as he consumed his drink, overhearing the beginning and end of what would have been a brawl. He also picked up pieces of conversations about the price of wheat and the latest gossip of the border wars; all boring things. His hearing scanned the room, listening for any information he could extract. He was about to finish his glass when he heard it.
“Where did you put that deathsman, Charlie? I know she came in here a little while ago—”
She. The whiskey caught in Aric’s throat and he had to swallow hard, stifling a rough cough as it went down. Looking over, he found the tavern keeper and one of the harlots eyeing him. Raising his glass, he called for another.
The tavern keeper nodded, but not before hissing to the wench, “I saw no deathsman, and it’s none of your business who stays here anyway. I suggest you get!”
The tavern keeper had already left the conversation, reaching to pour Aric’s second drink as the harlot laughed, showing stained teeth that only added to her disheveled ensemble. “Joss Brevyn was here. I saw it with my own eyes.”
She’s alive, his mind rattled, and hearing her name out loud made the back of his neck heat up. Aric cleared his throat as the tavern keeper moved on, leaving him alone with his drink. He eyed the harlot, who caught his gaze and tried to smile back, though he looked away, which made her even more curious.
“You don’t believe me either,” she said, swaying up next to him. A group of four, all hooded and drenched by the rain, took her spot, and for a second Aric watched them, wondering if they were wearing masks. When one of them turned to find the tavern keeper, he sighed with relief that it was just another group of travelers.
“Why should I?” Aric commented after taking another swig. “You’re suggesting that a woman executioner is here. Those are unheard of.”
“Not in these parts,” the harlot sneered, leaning against the bar as if to get a better look at him, which only made him lower his eyes out of her view. “The Brevyn clan works this area. She killed my cousin, you know. An innocent.”
“And you don’t think it was the law that killed him?” Aric pulled his hood on, hoping it would give her a hint that he wasn’t sticking around.
The harlot stared at him, her hatred trying to stay alive despite the fact she had no defense.
“How about you run along and think about it?” Aric offered, smiling into his glass when she threw some profanities at him and stormed away. Finishing the glass, the tavern keeper approached, holding the whiskey bottle up in offering.
“Why not?” Aric smiled, feeling better now that he was warm; now that he learned Joss hadn’t died by his hand.
“Innocent, my ass,” the man was mumbling as he finished. “He was a horse thief who needed to be hanged.”
“A female deathsman, huh?” Aric asked carefully, as if being thoughtful. He needed to know more though, needed to know if she was actually there. He needed to see her with his own eyes. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that if she was there, then she was looking for the prince just like him, going against everything he told her back on that ledge before he kissed her. For now, he didn’t care about any of it. He just wanted to know if she was okay.
“That’s what I hear, but I haven’t seen it.” The tavern keeper was wiping a glass as he spoke, the rest of his clientele taken care of.
“It would be curious to know if that really was her. Just to see one with our own eyes.” Aric took a drink, but his gaze remained on the man.
He was being quiet, thoughtful, as he continued cleaning his glass. “The only woman who came in here,” he said, as if to prove he hadn’t helped an executioner, “came with a lad and was looking for a man who’s been missing by his family. I doubt a deathsman would do that.”
She would, Aric thought amusingly. And she’s not even lying.
“Sounds like we missed our chance,” Aric smiled.
There was movement to the side of him, and glancing over he found the four travelers were still there. They were keeping to themselves, none of them asking for a drink as they kept their conversations quiet. That’s when he found that among the three of them, one was shorter, more feminine and completely out of place.
Something inside Aric turned, and to hide his suspicions, he took another swig.
“Well, they’re upstairs attending to the person they think they found,” the tavern keeper announced, causing Aric to freeze in place. “I don’t know, maybe it was her. She was nice enough. Maybe we’ll find out when they come back down.”
The tavern keeper was called over to the other side, leaving Aric to stare off after him. His eyes shifted to the group, finding they were obviously listening in. Aric leaned against the filthy bar, taking slow sips of his drink, trying to catch any bit of conversation the four would have. But they were whispering, and the crowd among them drowned out their words. It wasn’t until he saw a flash of parchment being passed among them that his gut twisted, remembering the crier he heard earlier.
Bounty hunters, his mind wondered, sensing that news of the missing prisoner, along with the executioner and assistant who helped him escape, were spreading rapidly.
Aric fiddled with the glass as he listened to the group, hearing how they were moving from the bar. As they passed by, he peered around his hood and found that despite how sober they were acting, there was an edge to them, an uneasiness that came to those who were inexperienced. Curiously, he observed them making their way to the stairwell, and then finished off the remainder of his drink.
It was as the group began to make their way up the stairs that the last one turned back, feeling like they were being watched. Gazing around, they found their actions were going completely unnoticed. However, when they glanced at the bar, they found the hooded man who had been standing near them was gone.
