The Flagkeep Tavern
the massive table in King Hugen’s dining hall made Orin and Ellaria feel strange. At least forty chairs lined the long table, but the guests sat near the king under the hall’s high ceiling. Flags draped down from the ceiling evenly from one end to the other. Unlike the outer adornments, these flags appeared to be hung with organization and order. With no other people in the room, the noise of the fat king eating echoed.
The elf knight stood nearby, clearly annoyed by King Hugen’s attempt at a power play. Ellaria inhaled as if she were about to break the silence, but a greasy sausage of a finger from the king shot up to stay her. He licked the last morsels off the large turkey leg he had inhaled and dropped the gnarled bone on the platter in front of him. He rubbed his greasy hands together and wiped them on his shirt.
“Now ...” he mumbled, finishing the last bite. “Now, Kallon.”
“Orin,” Ellaria corrected.
The king shot her a callous glare.
“Orin,” he corrected himself. “I am glad to see your recovery has gone well. Honestly, we didn’t think you were going to make it. You looked awful—that axe all stuck in your side.” He chuckled at the memory.
“Well, Ellaria is quite the skilled healer,” Orin said, giving all the credit away.
“Yes ... I suppose she is.”
King Hugen slid the platter away. Before kicking back, he motioned, as an afterthought, to Orin to sample the remaining scraps. Orin brought his hand up to reject the offer, and the massive king shrugged back into his chair.
He laughed again. “The way you tackled that farmer today! Even Kaelor didn’t see that guy coming! Maybe I should hire you to take his place.”
The elf knight, Kaelor, rolled his eyes behind the king’s back.
Orin shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I must be getting home to Whitestone. Goblin activity has been increasing. I hit my head hard, so the battle’s details are fuzzy in my memory, but if the battle went as Ellaria told me, they are getting bolder.”
King Hugen leaned forward expecting a grand story.
“Orin’ll be accompanied by me brother and me,” Ellaria cut in. “He is still recovering. Though, I admit I was impressed at his actions today. He lost his griffin in the battle, so the journey will be more difficult.”
The king waved her off, cutting her from the conversation, and leaned toward Orin.
“Listen, Orin. It appears that the house of Grell has taken good care of you. And again, we thought you weren’t going to make it. But I can set you up with a small troop of guards that would gladly help you get home. No need to travel with the huntsman’s children.”
Ellaria’s eyes widened at the king’s derisive tone. Orin quickly tried to diffuse the situation.
“No, no. I have been quite happy in the care of the huntsman. His family has been good to me, and I believe Ellaria and Merrick to be quite capable.”
“Walk with me,” the king said, shoving away from the table.
King Hugen’s fat arm held Orin close as they walked through a corridor while Ellaria and Kaelor followed closely. Ellaria appeared as annoyed with the king as his elvish aide. The corridor’s ceiling was also draped with flags, and the walls were adorned with valuable items: finely smithed tools and weapons, shields and armor pieces, instruments and utensils.
“Listen, Orin. I’ve got a little predicament. You’ve got a little predicament. Let’s help each other. You see, Kaelor and I have had run-ins with that stupid farmer before. Whining and crying about his crops being stolen. Blubbering about strange noises and lights in the northern farmlands. He’s been a real thorn in my side, you see. But other people have started complaining about the same things now. And you saw that wretched display today. Half the square saw it! Luckily for us, I was able to turn it so the people adored us once more. You heard their chanting.
“So, here’s what I need you to do. On your journey back to Whitestone, take a small detour to the northern farmlands near the old Palori Ruins for me and take a loo—”
“We can’t do that! The Palori Ruins are far out of the way!” Ellaria butted in.
“Now, now. It’s still north,” the king retorted.
As the two began to argue, Orin no longer heard them. His focus had been drawn by a single item hanging on the wall. The thin curved sword was well crafted by dwarven hands, as many of the oldest Griffin Guard weapons were, but there could be no doubt which sword hung before him. Orin knew the runic symbols on it well, for it had been his brother’s. Clearly, King Hugen had recovered many fine items from that battle.
“We’ll do it.”
Ellaria and King Hugen went silent. Ellaria’s face scrunched in confusion. King Hugen smirked smugly.
“We’ll look into your strangeties in the northern farmlands on our way to Whitestone, but I’ll be needing this sword.”
The king had readily agreed to let Orin take the Griffin Guard sword. He had found several swords that seemed very much the same to his untrained eyes. At Kaelor’s insistence, the king offered to send them with supplies for the journey.
“A generous offer from such a generous king, of course.”
Orin agreed to accept, despite Ellaria’s disapproval. The two were shown to the exit, and the doors were promptly shut behind them. Orin gripped the hilt of his brother’s sword, belted to him, with satisfaction.
Ellaria was less than pleased.
“Now, what’d you go and do that for?” She scolded him.
“I know this sword.” He patted it. “It was Rayin’s.”
Ellaria’s mouth softened, and she didn’t reply. If she had been in his place, she would have made a deal for the sword as well. Her scolding on the matter ended. She touched his shoulder with understanding, and the two started back through Reimald Square.
They stopped at a nearby merchant tent run by a strange elf in regal attire. He had all the wares they needed and included a few extras he suggested would be good to have on the journey. Each time he added a supply, he mentioned his sacrifice of profit for them and aimed a coy wink and self-righteous laugh at Orin, an attempt to solicit favor with the guardian. Orin guessed the elf’s charisma had gained the king’s recommendation, and the merchant hadn’t hesitated when the king’s letter for supplies had been presented to him.
Once their supplies were loaded on a cart, the elvish merchant snapped his fingers and called a young human boy. He gave him specific instructions to deliver the cart to Grell’s house in the Karos district in the north end of Tamaria. Before Orin could protest, as he was more than capable of rolling the supplies himself, the stout young man hopped to the cart and took off through the sea of people in the market square. They thanked the elvish merchant, who insisted it was actually his pleasure and honor, and headed to the square exit.
Before they reached the exit, they saw Merrick shaking hands and laughing with the halfling owner of The Flagkeep Tavern. He caught up to Orin and Ellaria and fell in step with them. His sister’s discontented look made it apparent to him that their time with the king had been as fun as he had expected it would be.
“So, how was King Hugen?” Merrick asked, a tinge of teasing in his voice.
“Well, we’ll be taking a rather long detour on our journey.” Ellaria sighed. “Orin has agreed to help the ‘good king’ by looking into the stirrings in the northern farmlands.”
“Oh, up by the Palori Ruins?”
“Aye, that’d be the way.”
“That is a detour. Quickest way to get there is the Palori River route.” Merrick chuckled and looked back at The Flagkeep Tavern. “I suppose we’ll be needing a boat, then.”
The Flagkeep Tavern bustled with patrons from the Reimald Square market. All kinds of folk filled the place, and the music of the tavern bard was drowned out by boisterous laughter and general merriment. A jovial elf spun around Orin, Ellaria, and Merrick, using some light magic to carry eight tankards of ale to his companions at a nearby table. Cheers rang out at the elf’s feat.
Orin noticed the tavern was larger than it had appeared from the outside. He counted four hearths within sight and wouldn’t have been surprised to see another one or two farther in. Merrick led the way, weaving between excited patrons. One of the tavern maids caught Merrick by the arm and whispered something in his ear. He let out a slight chuckle and joked back with her. He signaled to Orin and Ellaria that he’d be back in a moment and hastened away with the tavern maid.
A raggedy man in a booth next to Ellaria stood. “Well, ain’t yer a perty un, eh?” He hiccupped, and the rancid smell of his breath burned Ellaria’s nostrils. “Let’s av a kiss, wunt we?”
Ellaria recoiled at the thought. “I’d rather not, thank you.”
“Ahhh, com’on now, just a itty bitty un?”
Right as Orin was about to step in, a heavy clunk sent the man’s face into a confused panic. Before he could even cry out, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he seemed to float back into his seat at the booth. Revealed behind him was a skinny gnome, holding out his hands in the midst of some magical conjuration. His eyes glowed with an eerie blue fire, as did one of the tattooed runes on his hands. Once the raggedy man was back in his booth, the hairless little gnome’s lights went out. He shrugged at them with a cheeky grin.
A sturdy dwarf with slate black hair and a long beard, braided in the middle, lifted the culprit of the loud clunk.
“Excuse me, Miss. I seem to have dropped my hammer.” The hearty dwarf winked as he waved his mighty war hammer in his hand. “She has a tendency to do that around fools.” He glanced over to the raggedy man who was snoring, drool rolling down his cheek.
“Me hero,” Ellaria feigned.
Though her tone was clear, the dwarf puffed up, enjoying the game.
“Join me and my compatriot for an ale?” He gestured to a table in the corner by a hearth, before suddenly stopping. Someone caught the corner of his eye. “You! I told you, if I ever saw your face again, I’d be having to put my hammer through your nose holes!”
Merrick had returned, three tankards in his hands. Stubbornly, he replied, “And I thought I told you if I ever saw you again, I’d rip off that braid of yours and use it to tie you to a tree!”
The crowd around them fell silent.
The dwarf pawed at the bottom of his slate black braid. He looked to the scrawny gnome standing next to him and handed him his hammer. Without words, the two slowly walked toward Merrick. The dwarf tightened the linen wrappings around his hands and wrists, forming fists as though preparing for a fight. Orin’s hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword.
Merrick set two of the tankards down on the table next to him. The dwarf grabbed one, passed it to the gnome, and then grabbed the other. The three stared at each other, until the dwarf broke the silence.
“Didn’t I tell you that like ten minutes ago?” The dwarf asked.
“You did. But then again, you tell me that every time I see you,” Merrick replied with a wry smile.
“And you never learn.”
They let out hearty laughs, clanked their tankards, downed their drinks, and raised them high with a cheer. The surrounding tables cheered along, and the merriment recommenced. Orin turned to Ellaria, who also had no idea what was happening.
“I thought you were going on a trip to Whitestone with that guardian. Did you forget something?” the dwarf asked.
“No, no,” Merrick assured him, placing a hand on the short dwarf’s shoulder. “Actually, we’ll be taking a detour. And we may need your services.”
Coal, a son of Kalimandir, the great dwarven city of the south, didn’t need much debate or deliberation. He ordered several rounds for them as they ate and drank together. He was generous; a trait Orin had not often seen in his limited dealings with dwarves. From what the guardian gathered, Coal and Merrick had a solid friendship built on past shared experiences, which would make their journey easier.
In partnership with Ezel, the scrawny hairless gnome, Coal had a boat they used for the transport of goods along the Palori River. Coal explained they had hauled everything from farm produce to mining equipment. He laughed as he recalled for his captive audience the time he and Ezel had transported a strange man that Coal swore was a wizard. Ezel had not been so convinced. They still couldn’t agree.
After much mirth and storytelling, the party went their separate ways. Coal agreed to meet them the next morning at his vessel, which was tied up at one of the docks. Merrick knew the one.
Orin, Merrick, and Ellaria headed back to the house of Grell for the evening. Grell was not excited about their newly planned detour but understood Orin accepted the charge to acquire his brother’s sword. Orin and Merrick spent the rest of the evening preparing supplies for their travels, while Ellaria walked through all the care instructions her mother would need for Silverwing’s continued recovery. They enjoyed one last family meal and slept cozily in their beds, excited about what the dawn would bring.