Chapter 30: The Inn.

The rain had started an hour before we reached the inn, and it had not stopped since.

We had barely made it. The inn sat at the edge of a cluster of buildings that was too large to be called a village and too small to be called a town. The Inker had said this place was half a day’s ride from Koralis, our destination. It was close enough that the road widened and other travelers appeared far more frequently.

Most of the silver soldiers were outside in the rain, or crammed into a second, lesser establishment down the road. I had glared at the Inker, and he had secured rooms at this inn for himself and for us. One room for him. One room for us. It had not been long since we’d arrived.

I sat crosslegged on the floor of our room, drawing mana through the Requiem. It was a strange thing, to draw mana from a specific part that wasn’t one’s core. The difference was rather obvious. When I drew mana through my core, it came in thin, the way it always had in this world. When I drew it through the mark instead, the mana arrived a tad slower, but it was heavier.

And there was a flavor to it. A…heaviness that had nothing to do with weight at all. Perhaps this was what ‘endings’ tasted like. Drawing mana through the Cradle made power that was just as heavy, but felt light. I preferred that. So this was Essence then. Requiem Essence and Cradle Essence, I would call them.

The Inker had been rather confident that this part would take weeks at best. It had taken perhaps forty minutes. I could see why it might take someone else weeks. Naturally, after that, I tried to form an Essence Core.

The attempt had failed. The Inker had not explained, and the best theory I had was to force Essence into my Mana Core and see what happened. All that did was make the Essence leak out uselessly, just as the man had said. Still, one could technically use this Essence without storing it, simply by using it as it came. There was even a way to store it, by circulating it through the body, everywhere but the mana core. Though, I would admit there was little point to this, save for being petty.

I held out my right hand and called Ruin. Dark flame bloomed in my palm, larger and steadier than anything I had managed before. The flame formed a ball of flickering darkness in my palm, larger than my head. The cost was a tiny fraction of what it had been. I held it there, turning it, watching the black fire curl and dance. It had taken around thirty seconds to gather this much Essence, so it was not practical at all without an Essence Core. Still, I was proud. Now this was the kind of power a Demon Queen should command.

The door opened. Ash stepped in. She stopped and stared at the ball of dark fire hovering above my hand. “What are you doing?”

“Harnessing the power of Essence,” I said, letting the smirk show. “Or the beginning of it, at least. You may watch.” I let the flame swell, then compressed it. The darkness deepened. “It barely costs a thing compared to before. Would you like to practice as well?”

Ash sighed. She stepped forward, took hold of my left arm, and pulled me to my feet. I was so surprised my concentration broke, and the dark flame broke with it. “There is an entire inn downstairs,” she said, already steering me toward the door. “Come on, you didn’t even look when we came in. There are some fun things. You are not sitting alone here and playing with black fire.”

“I was not playing. I was cultivating.” I said sharply, though I did not pull my arm away. I could have.

“You were playing.”

I sighed and grabbed the satchel on the way out. The egg was warm through the cloth. I checked it, adjusted the strap over my shoulder, and followed the Hero downstairs. It would not be wrong to humor my retainer, would it?

The common room was almost uncomfortably loud. Rain drummed against the windows. A large fire crackled in a stone hearth at the far end, casting orange light across a room packed with bodies. There were many smells, and quite a few of them were unpleasant. I had been in many places, and had seen more still. None of them had been quite like this.

It was the noise I found strangest. Battle was loud but it had direction and purpose. This was just…sound screaming over other sounds. Laughter overlapped with arguing, which overlapped with the clatter of dishes, which overlapped with a woman’s singing voice somewhere near the hearth. It was as if everything here was competing to be the loudest.

Three silver soldiers from our escort occupied a corner of the room, looking rather miserable. Across the room, the Inker sat at a table surrounded by what appeared to be local farmers. His hands moving through the air as he regaled them with some tale. I caught fragments of it, as he also competed to be the loudest in this place, and was succeeding more than most, “…surrounded on all sides, you understand, and I alone stood between the beast and-”

I stopped listening. Ash led me to a table near the wall. I set the satchel on the small chair beside me. My hand rested on it for a moment before I turned to look at the room.

The room was so full of bodies it was a wonder there had been an empty table at all. On one, sat seven men throwing cards between each other, loudly laughing and pointing at something only they could understand. Most of the tables had a small group of men and women, all idly conversing.

Three men sat at a table to my right. One of them was staring at me. He was young, with dark hair and a face unremarkable even for a human. His face reddened and he looked away when I met his gaze.

Ash ordered wine when a serving girl passed by. I wanted to return to my room and practice more. I was sure I could get better with more- “Lys, the Inker is paying for everything. Are you really going to make sure he doesn’t have to?” Ash asked, staring at me. That did make the prospect of whatever this was more appealing.

Soon, a large cup was set before me. The liquid inside was a dark red, almost black in the firelight. I lifted it and sniffed. It smelled rather strange. I took a large sip and it burned my throat. I coughed, sputtered, and set the cup down hard enough that it sloshed. Some of the liquid had fallen down to my dress. I glared at Ash. She was grinning, and now she laughed. She laughed, and my irritation died somewhere between the sound and the warmth it left behind.

Reluctantly, I took another sip. It was less terrible. A third and the warmth spread through my chest and settled there. Only some of it was the drink. Near the hearth, a broad woman was singing a ballad. The man in Hamel had not been good. I did not know what good sounded like for humans, but I thought it might sound like this. I listened for a few moments before I actually focused on the lyrics themselves.

She was singing of the Great Demon War, of the heroic deeds of the Band of the Golden Dawn. I snorted.

“What?” Ash glanced at me.

“That band was anything but heroic,” I said. “They were usually the third to run. Not the first or the second, mind you. Was that what made them heroic?”

Ash sighed. “They were skilled.”

“At running? They certainly were. Even I found it hard to catch them.”

That got a smirk from Ash. She looked around, then leaned slightly closer over the table. “They tried to recruit me once, actually.” Ash took a sip of her own wine. She seemed far more practiced at it than I was. “Wanted me to be their leader.”

I turned to her, genuinely curious. “And? What happened?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ash set her cup down. “I may have shoved their vice leader into a well when they were being too pushy. Well, to anyone watching, it probably looked like quite the accident.”

I stared at her. “You are joking.”

Ash sighed. “No. It was a deep well, too.”

I laughed before I meant to, and it was a small thing that wouldn’t stop. Ash grinned at me, and I supposed I could allow myself the lapse, just this once. For a moment, I did not mind wasting my time. For a moment, I didn’t consider it wasting time at all.

We began to trade stories. I had not meant to share, but she pried the words out of me. I told her about Zarvok’s attempt to tame a Hellstag, which had ended with the General lodged headfirst in a crevasse while his sister laughed so hard she collapsed. Ash told me about a quest her party had taken to clear a cave of slimes, only to discover that the quest giver had used that to make them clear a den of Cave Trolls for cheap instead.

My gaze drifted during the rare lull in our conversation. A different one of the three men was staring now. I frowned slightly, then Ash said something else, and I turned back.

My hand found the satchel beside me. I adjusted it against my hip without looking down.

Bren was on his fifth drink, and that was two more than he could afford.

The common room swam at the edges of his vision, just enough that the firelight smeared and all the damned noise blurred into something almost pleasant. Almost enough to forget the twenty silver he owed for the boarding house. Almost enough to forget Mira’s face the last time he’d come home empty-handed.

He was a D-rank adventurer with two marks. One at Spark, and one at Line. Two marks were a blessing among blessings, if only either one had ever been worth a damn. One gave him enhanced speed that barely let him do more than the occasional pickpocket, and the other mark was an appraisal mark that could let him see and tell him exactly how valuable the thing killing him was. Everyone said you never know what your marks can really do, but Bren was pretty sure the Divine had used him as the butt of a joke.

Every party he’d applied to wanted more out of their members. They wanted people who could take a hit or deal one. Nobody wanted the man who could tell you what a rock was worth or maybe point out where a crystal was buried.

His friends were no help to his souring mood. Garrett had been staring at the half-demon since they’d walked in, and he’d gotten louder with every drink. Pol wasn’t far behind. “I’m going over there,” Garrett announced, swaying slightly in his seat.

“Which one?” Pol asked. “The blonde?”