Weeping Willows: Ch.4

Word Count: 1811

Trigger Warning: mention of alcohol, some profanity

☘ :evergreen_tree: ⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍ :evergreen_tree: ☘

Zen enters the tavern. Inside the tavern was quite large. There were three floors: the main floor which was situated in the middle, a basement, and a top floor that had many rooms. A rustic, wooden sign hung to the left of him on one of the wooden columns. It showed the various sizes for drinks. All of the drinks were ales and stouts. In the middle of the room was a fire pit. It roared ferociously as one of the servers fed it wood. There were many polished oak tables with three chairs around each one. In the corner, was a bard playing his lyre while singing off rhythm. Everyone didn’t care that his singing was terrible because they were simply too drunk to care. Redden cheeks sprinkled the tavern. Some were dancing. Others were chatting amongst themselves. Every now and then, someone would put a silver coin into the bard’s lap to ask of a different tune. Bulky soldiers and amateur magicians would hit on the woman, often whistling. The soldiers would perform a few motions with their hands and cast small flecks of sand they kept in hide pouches on their side next to their blunt daggers. A few magicians sat in the corner near the bard shaking their heads in slight disapproval.

Zen weaved his way through the crowd trying to stay away from the men who smelled of fish and deer entrails. He eventually reached the counter and sandwiched between two men who seemed to be ogres in their own appearance. He was sure they felt like ogres themselves according to three turkey legs and two pints of ale a piece they paid for. The two men took the pints pack to their tables as they stomped back to their table which had six empty pints hugging one another. Zen swallowed a small pocket of air then opened his mouth to speak.

“One pint please,” said Zen as he slapped the gold coin on the counter. The broad-shouldered lady took the gold coin then handed him eight silver coins in return. She handed him the pint. He noticed a woman sitting in at one of the tables and began to walk towards her. The woman saw him approach.

“Ah look who it is. It’s about time you woke up,” said the woman in a stern tone. She motioned him with her hand to take a seat. He proceeded.

“Do I know you,” he asked.

“Of course not. Why wouldn’t you? But I know you. Your sleeping ass was taking a nap in the middle of the clearing. So, I decided to be the good samaritan and drag you to Remus.”

“What’s a samaritan? And thank you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome and nevermind. Not many of the townsfolk understand the way I talk. Hell, I don’t half of the words that come out of me. They just do. I figured a foreigner like you would have a clue but it seems you don’t.” Zen was still confused on what the woman was talking about but he figured he wouldn’t push her. He interrupted.

“What’s your name, miss?”

“Haha. I guess I should tell you. That would make things interesting, wouldn’t it?” Zen shakes his head. “My name is Nicole. What’s yours?”

“My name’s Zen.” Nicole lets out a small chuckle.

“Zen? What are you? Some kind of monk?”

“No. That’s just what my parents decided to name me. If we’re talking about strange names, what kind of name is ‘Nicole’?” Her eyes widened as she bites her lip in irritation.

“What about Remus? He has an even weirder name.”

“No… His name is actually normal. Your name isn’t common. It’s actually fairly rare.” Zen puts his hands on his head. “Why are we even talking about this? Shouldn’t you be asking why I’m talking to you right now, or what is a stranger like me doing sitting with you?”

“You’re clearly not from around here Zen. See, we are in both an inn and a tavern. A lot of travelers from all over, even some foreigners, come hang out here. This is a place where you go and forget your worries. Well, for the night. See those men over there?” She points at the two ogres. Zen nods. “Well they’re not from around here. They’re brothers who drink a little too much and start beating the crap out of each other. The best part is that nobody cares. Not even the innkeeper. If you loosen up a bit, you will have a good time.”

Zen looks around the room. There were so many people dancing, drinking, and chatting amongst themselves that he began to as Nicole said and loosen up a little. She was right. The two brothers got up from their tables, clenched their fists until veins popped out of their puffy, muscular fingers, then proceeded to punch each other in the chests. Loud cheers came from the soldiers, the magicians, even the regulars. The bard halted his playing and started overseeing bets. Twenty gold on Agnes. Thirty gold on Gaius. The bets got higher depending on which brother would deliver the final blow. Sixty gold and a shifter scroll if Gaius knocks him out with a chair. Most of the bets were normal for this daily recurrence.

“This is crazy,” Zen exclaimed. Nicole looks at him and lets out a wide grin.

“This is why a lot of people stop here. It’s not just for the good food and the cozy feather beds. It’s mainly for the gambling. I have seen some weird things be put on the line.”

“Like what?”

“Like some older man put his daughter’s hand in marriage up for grabs. Of course he lost the best. It was a fifty-fifty chance. Luck wasn’t just on his side. Some woman, from I forget where, took her away from him. Never seen him much after that.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yea it is but hopefully he learned his lesson. Anyways, you should bet.” Zen takes the eight coins out of his pocket and blows the pocket lint off of them.

“I don’t have that much.”

“Well, I’m sure you can put in one of the pots. Before you ask what that is, the pots are split between both Agnes and Gaius. They differ from the individual bets. You put your money or whatever you want in one pot and if you win, the other pot is added to the one you chose then they split the winning pot amongst each other. You usually get double of what you put in so no one gets jipped.”

Zen gets up from his chair and walks over to the bard who looks like he has work cut out for him. He puts both pots behind watching cautiously for anyone who tries to steal from it. A young lad tries to reach for the pot much like a child with a cookie jar. As soon as the bard turns to look at him, his hand retreats to the safety of his master’s pocket. Zen puts his hand over his mouth to conceal a burst of laughter. He then hands the bard his eight silver coins, points at Gaius, and walks back to the chair. Meanwhile, Nicole takes a large sip of her pint then lets out a large belch. She didn’t know much about Zen and quite frankly, did not care for him. He was cute up close but so were a dozen other men. This was a tavern with a bad gambling problem. It stunk of sweat and glee and at times when the brainless men had too much to drink; sodomy. She loved her alcohol as well which was an insult to injury because it forced her to go back, slap down a couple gold for a several pints and a few more for food so she wouldn’t get drunk rather obtain that nice buzz, that nice warm feeling where she felt like she could do anything. Her legs didn’t share the same resolve. She bounced on the thin line of hyper awareness and the sweet realm of oblivion. Her head would sway back and forth the more she consumed regardless of the food in the bottom of her stomach. The malt accent in the red ale would give her the softest kiss while telling her to let her worries and fear as well as the small hints of anxiety go. Her eyes would shut for a split second then jolt back open to remain conscious of her surroundings. This town was safe for the small commercial hub it was but it didn’t mean it didn’t come with a guarantee.

Zen saw her become more and more drunk as the night let on. She kept winking at the men who flexed their hardy muscles while shouting meaningless compliments. She knew what they wanted. Zen shared the same thought process with those men the more he drank. He thought she was beautiful before. With the alcohol in his system, she was hot. But with the little bit of consciousness he had left, he knew going after her in the state she was in would be wrong. Gaius and Agnes were going toe to toe, punching each other with deafening sounds. After an hour of those meatheads going at it, Gaius delivered the final blow. He sent his fist up into Agnes’s chin which sent him straight into the ground. The crowd surrounding them let out a loud cheer. Zen received sixteen silver from his winnings. Nicole gave him a thumbs up and slowly walked towards the tavern door. Zen went to the counter. He paid for a night’s stay, which was a single gold piece. He could hear Nicole vomiting multiple times. He knew she was going to have a fun morning.

Upstairs were the inn rooms. Each room has a feather bed complete with a pillow made from fur and straw. There was a desk in one corner and a chest on the opposing side. He chose one and locked the door. The bard also gave him a sand shifting scroll which he heard was quite common. He untied the string then unrolled the parchment. The left side spoke of the requirements needed for this. Sand was an obvious requirement but there was a word he didn’t understand. It said ‘bloodial shifteon.’ On the right side, were images of hand motions and descriptions under each one. The descriptions were instructions on both the physical and mental state. Zen didn’t understand what any of this meant especially that one word. He rolled the scroll back up. He heard a knock on the door. He got up and opened it. It was the broad-shouldered lady. She handed him a bucket of water, for drinking, then walked away. Zen walked over to his bed, laid down, then went to sleep.