12/9/14

Chapter 2, Wolf of the West

“I said, wake up!”

Ryuden’s eyes snap open, the absence of daylight filled in the starry skies of night. Trying to get up, he finds his body numb and involuntarily still. Is this.. death?

“You’re awake. Good.” Coming into Ryuden’s line of vision, a figure -- the voice betraying a young woman’s attempt to hide her identity -- stops there. “Before I free you, I want an answer; will you try to kill me if I do so?”

“I have no reason to.” The sensation of speaking -- or the lackthereof -- nearly fools Ryuden into believing a third person is speaking. His vision returning to its sharp quality, he forces himself to look away from the stranger.

Fresh shades of green replace the eternal white of snow. The chill in the air is mild and gentle, not freezing and lethal. In fact, there is no cold, no snow… no winter.

“I’ll only take your word to be true this once. Don’t make us both regret it.” Coming into a much more blatant view, the woman kneels down and produces a small, grey pile of powder in her hand. “Inhale,” she orders, holding the pile to Ryuden’s nose.

Without much of a choice, Ryuden inhales the dust seemingly racing up his nostrils. Gradually, his body thaws out from the numbness. Sitting up, he looks into awe-striking, flawless blue eyes encrusted in a flawless face, blonde hair nearly silver-like in the moonlight.  “Your name?” asks Ryuden.

“Isn’t important.” The woman stands up, brushing leaves off of her clothing. Though her face is one that should belong to royalty, her attire is in pace with her attitude. Worn out in several places, the dress bears stains all over.

Finally able to free his eyes from the woman again, Ryuden looks past where the treeline stands thin. In the distance, a few specks of light shine from distant civilization… civilization? “Where am I?”

“You don’t know?” The woman stands up, folding her arms over her chest. “How does one travel so close to the heartlands of Oner and not know where he is?”

“Oner…” Ryuden thinks for a moment. Before being  knocked out cold, he was in Uskbight. To reach the borders of Oner would take several months on horseback; something is amiss. Perhaps he is not in the realm of the living after all?

“If you need help gathering your bearings, I’d suggest you head to the Gilded Goblet.” She points towards the settlement after helping Ryuden onto his feet. “The innkeeper will probably help you. Just do not mention me if he asks.”

Ryuden raises a brow.

“Something to explain at another time.” The woman turns to walk away from the settlement, leaving without a farewell.

“At least give me your name!” calls out Ryuden.

Stopping just short of the where plantlife is sparse, the woman sighs softly and shakes her head. “Names hold much power; I advise you to keep yours to yourself.”

As the woman pushes past the brush, Ryuden begins to follow after her. But, he stops himself. What good would it do to chase a stranger blindly into a forest? Shaking his head, he turns in the direction of the ‘Gilded Goblets.’ Passing through the few trees in his way, Ryuden pats himself over. A frown instantly reveals itself as his hands find his sword and scabbard absent. “No wonder why she wasn’t afraid of me,” he mutters. With his primary source of defense missing, Ryuden finds partial relief in that the dagger he looted from Tug remains intact. At least he is not utterly helpless.

With a brisk pace, he draws closer to the settlement. The moon hangs high in the open skies of the evening, painting the buildings with its milky illumination. Admiring the orb of white dominating the sky, it is only when a firm breeze rolls over the land and respites in Ryuden’s lower torso that he notices something ominous; a healthy-sized hole in his tunic. His hand racing to the hole, Ryuden feels his fingers snake through his layers and brush over the puffed flesh of a scar. Though much is a mystery, something stands certain. There was -- and still may be -- a threat to him from his forgotten life.

Ryuden hastens his pace. It would do little good to stay out in the open if someone or something is still after him. Cutting through the field of a quiet plantation, he looks over his shoulder occasionally to check for followers. He leaves the soft soil for the cobble road leading through the heart of the settlement.

The quiet suspended by the evening is brought to a close, as muffled voices talk, sing, shout, and laugh. Though they come from nearly every building, the dominant source of noise is clearly a structure in the center of the village. Standing much taller than the homes and shops, it holds a large, wooden plate above its door. Painted on it is a goblet, painted in a bright yellow.

The Gilded Goblets.

The stench of alcohol is well acquainted with Ryuden, as it is the rest of the inn. Round tables throughout the area are engulfed by the drunk patrons. Those who pass out litter the floor, wherever it is vacant. The singing and chanting reverberate through the place, unmitigated by social inhibitions.

Weaving his way through the pungent crowd, Ryuden approaches the bar, opposite the inn’s entrance. His eyes lock onto the innkeeper, likely the only other sober person here.

“Another caravan of merchants,” the innkeeper explains. “They’re celebrating their survival through one of the most dangerous routes to Oner.”

“What route?” asks Ryuden, observing the merchants. His focus returns to the innkeeper at a small chuckle.

“They passed over the mouth of Uskbight.” The innkeeper tends to a glass mug, wiping grime from it with a worn rag. “With the bandit activity having died down there, I’m not too surprised. A few months ago, the Sentinels tore apart some stronghold in Uskbight, killed nearly every one of the outlaw scum within.”

Quiet for a moment, Ryuden looks back to the crowd, however his focus is far from their rowdy behavior. The innkeeper said a few months. Months. But, that cannot be right, he must have heard him wrong over the noise. He leans in towards the innkeeper. “How did this news find its way here?” he asks. Perhaps whoever brought him here had also stopped by this inn -- a trail could be revealed.

“Well, I could tell you that it was brought to my knowledge by passing merchants like these.” The innkeeper sets the mug down, tapping his finger against the bar’s smooth, wooden surface. “But, I’d be lying.”

“Then what will it take to tell me the truth?” Frowning, Ryuden locks into the innkeeper’s eyes with a fierce glare. In any other condition, he would have paid for the truth through brute force. But, he could not risk losing the opportunity to rediscover what happened to him.  “I haven’t much on me in terms of coin…”

“That’s fine,” says the innkeeper, “I don’t want you to pay in gold. Rather, I want you to pay in a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Aye.” The innkeeper lowers his voice, so silent and soft Ryuden can barely hear him over the disruptive drunks. “The details are not important, but I need someone of your specification.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Exactly; a complete stranger. And do not say you’re no seasoned killer. The air you carry about you betrays much of who you are, and what you’ve done.”

Ryuden’s frown deepens. “A seasoned killer? Why do you need one?”

“There’s this man in Onat; big city, not far off from here. This man happens to be my supplier for drinks, nourishment and building resources.” The innkeeper rests his arm on the table. “As it happens, his man now hates me with a fiery passion, and wants to see my life -- along with this establishment -- ruined. He’s been raising prices on his goods to unreasonable heights. Without any other sellers, there is only one way my business will thrive once more.”

“How will his death benefit your business?”

“I have the next man to take charge in my pocket. Now, any objections?”

“None.”

The innkeeper clears his throat, giving Ryuden a dismissive gesture. “It’s a shame you’re leaving so early, lad. Your horse is waiting for you in the stables outside. Safe travels.”

Turning around, Ryuden pushes through the patrons again to reach the exit. The last part was not unintentional, hopefully. He is growing tired of running about. His eyes scanning the deserted road, he heads towards the stables, given away by the straw about the ground nearby. Approaching the doors, he holds his breath. The surrounding sounds diminish, until only his heartbeat is audible. The sound of a horse’s breathing greets him from the other side.

Letting the worldly sounds return to his perception, Ryuden swings the doors outward. When his eyes rest on a horse with a sleek coat -- black as night’s shadows -- he smirks. “No objections at all.”