The wandering inn volume.., p.349
The Wandering Inn: Volume 5, page 349
part #1 of The Wandering Inn Series
The audience groaned and cheered. Another man scrambled up. He was a tough, a bouncer. He offered five silver to the cheers and entered the ring. The [Fist Fighter] had no time to rest. Nor did he need it. Two minutes later, the bouncer stumbled out of the ring. His companions mocked him, but none of them dared to enter. But they weren’t the only takers by far.
So the boxer beckoned and they came. Mostly men, but a female challenger sometimes came by on the rare day. First the brave or foolish stepped up and were carried out. But then the serious fighters came by. Those who waited for the [Fist Fighter] to tire or thought they knew his game.
And he beat them all. Soon, the little cup by the ring had silver coins aplenty. And the young man was covered in sweat. He was about to scoop up his cup when a new challenger stepped into the ring.
“Boy. I’m an adventurer in a Gold-rank team. What will I have to wager for a gold coin?”
A man with steel armor and an enchanted shield and a steel mace strutted forwards. His team stood behind him. They laughed as the [Fist Fighter] sized up his opponent. The crowd jeered and dared the young man to take the fight. The City Runner watched.
And the boxer looked up and calmly replied as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Five silver, sir.”
The adventurer went red. His team laughed, and the man took his armor off. He was scarred and his muscles bulged. The crowd oohed and went silent. The [Fist Fighter] raised his gloves and went still.
They started with the bell. The [Fist Fighter] wasted no time. He charged and his fists flashed.
First once. Then twice, he struck the adventurer with blows that made the audience wince. The big man stumbled and cursed. He swung, but the young man danced around him. Punching, jabbing. He struck again. But the adventurer, who was part of a Gold-ranked team, was ready.
“[Flurry of Blows]!”
And his punches were quick. The [Fist Fighter] stumbled as the first punch lifted him off his feet. How many pounds lay between the two? The City Runner counted, and saw the next blow take the boxer in the stomach. The young man stumbled and received a punch to the back of the head.
Down he went. The adventurer nearly kicked at him until he was reminded that was against the rules. He waited as the boxer rose. When he raised his hands, the adventurer rushed forwards with a yell.
The crowd shouted and moaned as the [Fist Fighter] tried to weave and block. But this time he was outmatched. Twice he went down and twice he rose. The big adventurer knocked him down a third time and there the boxer stayed. Not because of a count. If he’d had the strength he would have risen a dozen more times. The Runner had seen it done.
The adventurer who had boasted walked out of the ring, nose bloody, bruised, but gloating. He stopped and took his prize: a gold coin, or in this case, twenty silver coins from the cup. He walked away, laughing with his team goading him for taking the hits in the first place. The boxer lay on his back, staring up at the sky as the crowd departed.
The young woman approached then. She saw the [Fist Fighter] trying to open a small bottle filled with a weak healing potion. But his hands were clumsy with the gloves. So she took it for him and offered him the bottle.
Silently, the [Fist Fighter] drank. He looked at the Runner and nodded to her. She nodded back. After a while he was able to move again.
Coin gone, bloodied, he sat up. The Runner waited, but the boxer was done for the day. He shook his head. She left him there to clean up and collect what remained of his day’s earnings. And she went to the inn both were residents of.
The Huntress’ Haven was ill-named. Not because it wasn’t a haven for anyone who liked hunting; the place was a haven for adventurers and their ilk. But only because the [Innkeeper] was a man, more like a bear himself. He waited the tables himself and turned as the City Runner pushed into the building. He roared at her.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the Wind Runner, back from another delivery! You want food? I’ve got a meat stew boiling.”
The young woman nodded. She waited for him to get a bowl and eyed the simmering cauldron over the fire. The [Innkeeper] ladled some of his soup into the generous bowl. It was thick, with heavy chunks of meat.
There were a few unspoken rules for eating in this inn. Mostly it had to do with the stew, which was pretty much a standard for dinner.
You didn’t ask which kind of meat was in the stew. The [Innkeeper] was a former adventurer and he hunted down most of what went into his kitchen. It was always edible, fresh, and non-poisonous. Cheap, too. Taste was not a guarantee.
The City Runner took the bowl with thanks and walked across the room. The inn wasn’t too occupied despite the dinner hour, which the [Innkeeper] noticed with a scowl. Nevertheless, his regulars ate at their tables.
One of them was a girl who sat at the back. A teen, really. Younger than the boxer, who came in, bruised and bloody to mockery from the [Innkeeper], who had told him again and again not to fight adventurers. The City Runner paid no attention and glanced at the girl.
She was shivering. And hunched over her hot food. The young woman was wrapped in thick layers of clothing despite it being spring and her hair was jet black.
She ate furtively, close to the bowl, in small bites. If you looked closely, and she was unguarded, you’d see she had pronounced canines. Not that she ever smiled or showed you her teeth if she could help it.
The Runner didn’t look. She took the hot bowl and went up the stairs to her room. The inn was old and the floorboards creaked. She found her room, second to the last, and went in. She placed the bowl on the side table next to her bed and looked around.
The wind blew. A small breeze, filled with the scents of the mystery stew, dust, and the smell of the inn. In her small room, Ryoka Griffin let the gust blow the hair around her face. Then she opened the window.
The wind flew from her inn and into the night sky. Ryoka sat in the open window, and lifted the bowl of soup up. She dipped a spoon and tasted. The wind blew in a small tornado, swirling her soup. The young woman smiled and the wind lifted her hair.
“So the Goblin Lord’s gone.”
She looked out across the city. Night was falling. Ryoka ate slowly, savoring the hot meal. The wind didn’t bother her. It was comforting. She closed her eyes, picking apart the story she’d heard from half a dozen [Criers]. Battle. A rout. Tyrion Veltras challenging the Drakes. Goblins fighting Goblins? But Liscor still stood.
“Good thing I wasn’t there to make it worse.”
That was all Ryoka said. She put the empty bowl to one side and perched on the inn.
“Trebuchets.”
A howl filled the air as a sudden gale rattled the tiles on the inn’s roof. Below, the [Innkeeper] struck the floorboards and shouted for Ryoka to keep it down. The wind subsided to a breeze.
“Sorry.”
Ryoka stared across the dark landscape. The air was cool. The wind swirled around her, soothing. The young woman closed her eyes and thought of her friends. Then she opened her eyes. Her past lay behind her. A white Gnoll. A smiling young [Innkeeper]. Shattered ice.
The dark night air was still. But still the wind blew around Ryoka Griffin. She stared up and smelled the earth. The flowering world. And she sighed. Ryoka stared into the night and whispered.
“It’s going to be a beautiful spring.”
End of Volume 5.
Author’s Note:
Another volume ends. This one was the longest. The longest and, perhaps, the hardest. Certainly the longest.
I have mixed feeling about how it ended. As I wrote many times, I wanted to end the Goblin war arc in this volume. Honestly, I thought we’d be done at the end of Volume 4. So much for predictions.
But really, I do have regrets. Some of them are just in how I wrote some chapters, or how I built up plotlines. I made some places too long, didn’t focus on other details. I think…this is the first major war I’ve ever written. It will not be the last.
It’s funny. Each author has their own way of telling stories. Of talking about battle and conflict and loss. I have my own style. I read all the comments talking about how the characters, Goblins especially, seemed to slip out of trouble at the last moment. And honestly? The final battle had always been planned like that.
It’s about expectation. This is a story about fantasy. Magic. Another world. People don’t die as senselessly as they do in our life. Sometimes they do. Other times they lived charmed lives. But war brings death. And characters die.
This chapter ended with despair, with sadness. And it was meant to. I believe a good story has happy moments. Wonderfully inspiring moments. But also sadness. Otherwise how would it reflect life? To me, a great story inspires emotion. Happiness, anger, grief, annoyance…the only failing comes from a scene that doesn’t convey those feelings as strongly as it should.
Did I do a good job? I hope so. And I’ll keep doing my best. And, for anyone worried, after this volume won’t be another war. We will have peace, and all that entails. At last, the Goblin Lord’s arc is done. I can focus on all the stories I’ve neglected. And yes, Ryoka Griffin. Not wholly on one place or another. But I can branch out. The writing doesn’t need to be as constrained. More calm, magical moments waited I’m excited about the future.
But I will take a break. I always take a break at the end of each volume. This time I’m taking 2 weeks off. I feel a bit guilty about that, but only a bit.
I pushed very hard in Volume 5. I wrote chapters that were upwards of 20,000 words in one sitting. My hands and, I think, my mind, are very tired. So tired I can’t really feel it. So I need two weeks. In truth I’ll just have one week off; I have a project I need to finish that will take a week to complete. So, two weeks. On Monday, the 18th, I’ll be back with the first chapter of Volume 6. I’m sorry about the delay, but I think I’ll be ready to write my best then.
Thanks so much for reading Volume 5. I hope you enjoyed it, ups and downs, good parts and bad. I’ll see you soon. After a bit of a rest. I think we could all use one. Waiting for spring,
–pirateaba
Pirate Aba, The Wandering Inn: Volume 5
