CHAPTER 10: A "shocking" development
* * *
Kendra looked around the tavern and rolled her eyes. It was full of slightly drunk, slightly unhappy, and very irritable men. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, wrought iron chandeliers lighting the room, and enough beer and mead flowing to keep the patrons from remembering their woes.
She shifted in her seat to resettle her clothes. She'd chosen some simple peasant attire to blend in, but it weren't as comfortable as what she preferred. She adjusted her jet black hair to keep her eyes off her face so she could listen in peace.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and listened for all the conversations in the bar. It was a cacophony, but also a good way to stay informed.
"Lord Delmar just signed a treaty with the Marcadians"
"The crops this year have been great."
"My crop was hit by locusts."
"I wish the emperor would do something about the-"
"The emperor is just a puppet."
"-dragons near Arcanum."
Kendra inclined her ear so she could hear this specific conversation better.
"Lord Delmar's right about these rouge dragons," a gruff voice said. "We should kill the whole lot of them; dragons ain't much good for nothing but dying anyway."
"Bah, he's just after their gold," A slurred - probably drunk - voice said.
"Stuff it man," the gruff voice said. "You're drunk."
"I swear to drunks I'm not God." The slurry voice said, and then hiccupped.
"Damn right about them dragons," a deep voice said. "They've been killing us for hundreds o' years, why hasn't nobody done nothing about it?"
"They're too scared," the gruff voice said. "These damn lords spend all day safe in their castles and leave the real work to us folk."
"Hey pretty lady," someone said way too close for Kendra's liking.
She opened her eyes to see someone staggering over toward her table. He was at least fifty pounds overweight and very drunk. His tankard sloshed beer onto his pants and shirt with every unstable step, and he wore a look of unrestrained lust as he undressed her with his eyes.
Kendra sighed; same shit, different tavern.
"You want I show you some much good times?" The drunkard slurred as he reached her table.
"I doubt you're capable," Kendra replied with an icy stare.
The man was either too drunk or too stupid to take the hint. He leaned over the table and started reaching for her chest, "I be so good bitch, you-"
Kendra interrupted his hand and his sentence by grabbing the back of his head and introducing his face to the solid oak table; hard. The man fell to the floor with blood pouring out his nose.
Kendra checked to make sure her necklace was still concealed under her shirt before glancing down at the man and muttering. "I was wrong; that was fun,"
She then noticed that the tavern had gone completely silent and all eyes were on her. None of them looked happy.
"He had it coming," Kendra said, and then turned back to her mead.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
The tavern was still silent. No one moved or made a sound except the drunk man at her feet who was groaning in pain as he held his nose. Everyone was staring at either her or the gutter trash at her feet.
"That was Morkleth," one of the men said. "He's a pillar of this community."
"Then this community has some rotten pillars," she retorted.
This pronouncement was follow by a definite souring of the mood. The men started leering at her, and not in an 'I-want-a-piece-of-ass' way either. Several of them closed their hands into fists and one brandished a hefty walking stick in a threatening manner.
Kendra sized up the crowd.
There were about two dozen men in the bar, all of whom outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, and many double that. Half of them looked angry, the other half looked livid. Most of them were simple town folk and didn't carry themselves like fighters. A few looked like that had experienced, but one of them - the only one without hatred in his eyes - looked like a stone cold killer.
There was something about bearing and demeanor that screamed dangerous, though few but her would have the skill to recognize it. She'd met men like him before. You spend enough time in her line of work and you learned to recognize others who shared your very particular set of skills. They always carried themselves that way unless they were undercover.
She raised her eyebrow at him.
He sized her up, then shook his head subtly and made a deliberate show of going back to his drink. Kendra grinned; with him no longer a threat, this bunch of ignorant hicks wouldn't be a problem. Still, discretion is the better part of valor...
"He was an ass and I defended myself," Kendra said. "I'm not looking for a fight."
They weren't buying it.
The tavern folk took a collective step forward. Kendra sighed, stood up, and activated her strength-enhancing vambraces. She briefly considered taking care of these bullies without them, but didn't feel like a real workout.
"If you have a problem, let's do this," she said. "Otherwise I'm going back to my drink."
One of the bigger fellows scowled at her, took a step forward, and aimed a powerful haymaker at her head. She leaned back just enough to make it miss and grabbed his arm as it passed. She continued his momentum and stuck out her foot. The man was carried forward, tripped over her foot and smashed face first into her solid oak table.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone else join the attack. She continued the spinning movement she'd used to put the first man down and brought her foot up in a crescent kick to the second man's face. He didn't even see it coming. He hit the floor groaning in pain and barely moved.
Thank Illuminar for strength enhancing enchantments.
Everyone else in the tavern was frozen solid. The men she'd just knocked out were twice her size and clearly in decent shape. No one else seemed to know what to do.
Finally a braver man - who was leaning up against one of the vertical support beams - drew a large knife. He hefted it threateningly, his confidence in the weapon displayed on his face. The rest of the tavern folk also seemed to take courage from the glistening blade.
She chuckled.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent one of her concealed throwing knives into the pillar beside the knife-wielding man's head. With a satisfying 'thunk' sound, it sunk deeply into the wood less than an inch from the man's head.
He blanched.
The change in atmosphere was palpable. All of the confidence in the crowd evaporated in an instant. Suddenly, instead of a group of angry and tipsy thugs, she was looking at a bunch of grown men behaving like kids who were caught stealing sweet cakes.
"Bring me my knife," Kendra said to the knife wielding man as she slipped another throwing knife out and let it hang from her fingers. The implied threat was very effective.
The man hesitated, then sheathed his own knife and - after a few tries - pulled her knife out of the support pillar. He walked over to her and held it out at arm's length, clearly trying to stay as far away from her as possible. Kendra took the knife, returned it to its concealed sheath, and then looked at the crowd.
"Now, I think we should all go back to our drinks," Kendra said as if they were discussing the weather or some other trivial matter. "Don't you?"
