I head in, and Dartac tells me that they
can drop everything else and get my armor ready tomorrow, before
noon. After that the shield should take almost no time at all. He
seems to want me satisfied and out of the smithy in a hurry. Almost
pulling me out by the hand, he leaves me with, “It's bad luck for a
warrior to see his armor under the hammer, unless the hammer is his.”
While it is hopefully an unnecessary
measure, my next stop is the guardhouse. If that cloaked man was
serious there might be some trouble before tomorrow, and I'd rather
have them know than not know. While I can probably take ruffians like
him, and this belt Norrin gave me should keep them from getting me in
my sleep, it would be hard to explain to the authorities. If I have
one of my blackouts it would be even harder.
The nearest watchman directs me to the
guardhouse, and I make it without issue. The building is actually
rather impressive, most cities I've been in don't make their
guardhouses this defensible. It's probably built to serve as a
defensive bastion for any who can't make it into the inner walls
quickly after a breach in the outer walls.
A man about my age sits just inside
the doors behind a very sturdy looking wooden desk. He looks me up
and down, “I'm sorry, sir, we aren't taking on any more watchmen at
this time.”
“Not here for work, I'm here to
report some trouble.”
He opens a drawer
pulls a paper out of it. Taking a pen he starts writing, “Name,
occupation and current residence?”
“Leo,
mercenary, no residence.”
“Are you a
citizen?”
“No.”
“So, what is the
trouble?”
I recount the
events of yesterday and today involving the ruffians and the cloaked
fellow and his threat. All throughout he takes notes. He seems
somewhat relieved when I let him know I'll only be staying here for
one night.
“If you were
from around here, I'd tell you that you were crazy for sticking
around for some armor. Judging by the location of that attack, I'd
say you've drawn the ire of the Brothers of the Coin. They will
probably try to kill you tonight if they can, especially since you're
a nobody around here. I'd offer to let you stay in a cell just for
safe keeping, but, quite honestly, part of the reason we haven't driven
them out yet is because they've got so many watchmen paid off. The
best I can do for you is make sure one of the men I trust is
patrolling near the tavern you're staying at. I can also give you
some advice, get a room without a window if you can, and if you can't
I'd suggest not sleeping. As a non-citizen, while you are allowed to
defend yourself, if you kill an attacker, and you look like the sort
that can, you will need significant proof that they intended to kill
you, or you will be arrested, and as I already said, I don't trust
you to be safe in a cell if those bastards are after you.”
Well then, that's
useful, guess I'll have to try and hold back if I can. Better than
nothing, I guess. I let him know that I'm staying at the Brass
Bearings Tavern, and leave. I spend the afternoon placing food orders
to be picked up tomorrow. I return to the tavern just in time for
dinner being served in the common room. I can smell the cooking and
the ale as I enter. The innkeeper makes sure I have a seat at the bar
and asks me again if I have any war stories to tell.
Just as I'm about
to start, a woman in brightly colored traveling garb, who had
previously been sitting at a table in the center of the room playing
a small harp, rises from her chair and stands on the table. She
inquires in a loud voice overtaking the dull roar of people talking
over dinner, “How many of you have heard about the commotion over
at Anton's Smithy yesterday?”
Oh no...
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