Free Web NovelChapter 30: Chapter 30
It took Gonan four hours on horseback to reach Kezar. He planned to send someone else in his stead but chose to come alone at the very last minute. But now he was greatly regretting his decision to do so as his horse trotted into the tiny town. It was a one man search party and after the first hour, all he wanted to do was turn his horse around and head back home.
The streets were lined with small brick houses, smoke curling out of their chimneys. There were several water puddles on the ground from the last time it rained. People milled about, men, and women alike. A few children playfully chased after one another, their raised voices joining with that of the rest of the crowd.
The air smelt of wet earth, sweat and smoke. Gonan grimaced when his horse stepped into yet another puddle, splashing murky water onto his shoes. People stepped aside as he approached, gawking at him and whispering among themselves. Some even pointed at him, at his clothes. He couldn’t really blame them. Kezar was a small province, compared to the capital, where farmers and fishermen made up the vast majority of the population. It wasn’t everyday that they got to see a noble riding through their streets.
He pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted in front of a brick building. It was similar to all the other ones he rode past, only this one was bigger and had an aging sign in front of the entrance.
An old man sat on the ground outside the tavern, leaning his back on the hard brick wall, his eyes closed in sleep. There was a smudge of dirt on his forehead, his clothes were bedraggled and his hair was a greasy mess on top of his head.
He was either a beggar or a drunk. Gonan wouldn’t be surprised if the man was both.
The man jerked awake at the sound of Gonan’s approach.
Gonan tied his horse’s reins to one of the empty wooden posts before turning to the old man who was now watching him warily. But amid the wariness, there was intrigue.
" Look after my horse for me, would you?" Gonan said , stepping towards the entrance.
" Aye, but it’s going to cost you." The man looked Gonan up from head to toe. " You look like you can afford it."
Gonan wore a ring on each finger and it clinked against the coins as he dipped his hand in his coin pouch and tossed him a single silver coin. The man caught it with deft efficiency. He glanced down at the coin in his hand, a grin spreading across his face. freewёbnoνel.com
Without another word, Gonan turned back and continued walking in the direction of the entrance.
Bathed in golden daylight, the quaint medieval tavern stood proudly along the cobbled road, its exposed brick walls and stone foundation clearly visible under the sun’s gentle warmth. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the weathered barrels, wooden benches, and herb-wreathed doorways that line the front of the building. The windows, now shimmering with reflections of the clear blue sky, revealed glimpses of a lively interior bustling with midday patrons. A light breeze stirred the hanging garlands and swayed the sign above the entrance, while laughter and the clatter of mugs spill faintly from within.
The old wooden sign hung crookedly on rusted chains, creaking in protest as the wind stirred. When Gonan pressed his hand to the heavy oaken door and pushed it open, the hinges groaned like a dying beast. What greeted him was not warmth or welcome, but a roaring tempest of sound that crashed into him like a wave.
Laughter, sharp and slurred, mingled with the clatter of tankards against rough-hewn tables. Somewhere in the back, a man shouted for another round, his voice barely rising above the din of a rowdy dice game. A fist slammed against wood, loud enough to startle a serving girl carrying a tray of stew. Cloaks were thrown over benches, boots stomped rhythmically to the beat of a bard’s broken tune, and arguments flared like sparks across a forge. Voices, some gruff as gravel, others shrill with too much mead, collided and rose in a deafening chorus.
It was the kind of noise that lived in the bones of the tavern, seeping from the timber and stone. And in the center of it all, Gonan stood at the threshold, the smell of sweat, smoke, and spilt ale already clinging to him.
The tavern’s interior was dimly lit, with a high, wooden-beamed ceiling. The room featured several sturdy tables and benches, some covered with fur throws, and was illuminated by hanging lanterns and scattered candles. A carved wooden door stood at the far end.
The moment he stepped inside, a few of the tavern patrons looked his way, their conversation momentarily halting. Gonan was unperturbed by the attention, choosing to ignore it instead. He walked in as confidently as he would anywhere else, stopping in front of a couple of high top chairs lined in a neat row. He perched on one of the empty chairs, leaning an elbow on the wooden countertop.
He crooked two fingers, beckoning one of the tavern workers over. A middle aged man came over to where he sat, balancing a tray loaded with used mugs in one hand. Gonan looked him over. He was a human working in what was most likely a vampire owned establishment. Only a few businesses in Lamora were owned by humans but they weren’t usually successful because vampires hardly patronized them.
" What can I get you?" The server asked.
" Do you serve any whiskey?"
" Hardly," the server scoffed. " It’s a local tavern, not the king’s cellar. You will be fortunate if you can still get a mug of sweet ale."
Gonan flashed the server a forced smile but inside was dying of revulsion. What kind of tavern didn’t serve whiskey?
" I’ll take a pint of rum then." Gonan said, turning away.
As soon as the server left to get his order, someone slipped into the empty chair beside him, setting down his half empty mug of ale on the wooden countertop. Gonan cast a sidelong glance at the stranger. He was a lanky man with a scruffy blonde beard. Gonan planned to just ignore him like he did with everything happening around him. But the stranger spoke a minute later.
" You don’t look like you’re from around here." The Stranger said.
Gonan didn’t spare him a glance. " How did you come to that conclusion?" He could hear the man well despite the noise around them.
" Because I make it my business to know everyone who lives here. Plus no one around here dresses like that." By that, he meant no one there dressed in fine silk or could even afford them to begin with.
Gonan’s clothes made him fit in with the nobles in the capital but here, surrounded by the poor and lower middle class, it made him stand out.
" You’re right. I’m just passing through."
The man squinted his eyes at Gonan. " You look like the nobles from the capital. You dress like them too."
Gonan kept his face blank. " Just a merchant passing through." A pint of rum was placed in front of him but he didn’t move to touch it.
The man gave a contemplative hum.
An idea came to Gonan unbidden. He leaned in closer to the man, lowering his voice to prevent anyone else from listening in.
" I’m also looking for someone. A woman that goes by the name of Cornelia Biven. I was told she lives in Kezar."
The man’s expression twisted. " Who sent you?" His tone held a hint of suspicion.
" I’m close friends with her brother. We all grew up together. I wanted to meet up with her when I reached Kezar but I don’t know which house is hers." The lie flowed out smoothly. He lied so much that sometimes he didn’t know what was true anymore.
The man’s lips thinned, his eyes downcast.
" She’s gone. Taken like the rest of them." The man said.
Gonan paused before turning to face the man fully. " What do you mean by ’she’s gone’"?
He recalled the assassin’s words. He had warned them that his employers might go after his sister. Was Gonan already too late?
" I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Something is taking people in Kezar and no one knows what. It happened only once every few days at first, usually only at night but now it’s happening more frequently. People are scared that they’re going to be next, all businesses close before sundown."
" And you’re sure this is how she went missing."
The man nodded. " Someone peeked out of their window the night Cornelia disappeared. They said they saw a thick fog outside, the same one the others have been disappearing into..." The man trailed off. " We used to be friends, Cornelia and I. She was a good person, she didn’t deserve that."
