Preparation
----
Talos awoke to the rooster crowing in the distance. Thin rays of orange light seeped through the shutters of his rented room, signaling the days beginning. As he was custom to doing, he lifted his legs to the side and rose out of bed before having to consciously will his body to do so.
As he was redressing, he thought back to the events of last night across the street in the tavern. Although he tried not to reveal it, he felt bad for Alanna, the young enchantress he assumed hailed from the college in Catriona. Being young and stupid was part of life; and paying for your mistakes when you're young is the only way he knew how to grow up. It's how he was raised, having no good father figure to show him the correct order of things.
He silently wished that Alanna would see the errors of her ways and return to Catriona empty handed rather than join him at the gate. She would weigh down his expedition, and judging from how simply he shut her off from his thoughts last night, she had little to nothing to offer him if they ran into trouble out there.
Talos once again mentally went down the list of items he needed before his journey south, but was surprised when he came up short. Just water, feed for the horse, and maybe a grindstone if he's lucky. Fishing his sword belt through the loop, he glanced briefly at the heavy oak pommel on his bastard sword before heading downstairs, ready to meet the day.
The hall of the inn was quiet except for the innskeeper brewing what he could smell was a stew full of the towns produce and assorted parts from a pig. A few candles were still lit around the dim room, the sounds and smells of the morning streets of the town creeping gently through the small square windows ringing the tops of the walls. He trundled over to the innkeep, still not fully woken. She introduced herself as Rebecca yesterday, right? He always tried to greet people he'd rarely see with their name, bewildering them or causing them to mentally curse for not remembering his. He loved the look on their faces.
"Good mornin', Rebecca. How's the stew?", Talos greeted with a smile, taking the closest stool to her.
Her face tilted his way, showing the scars and wrinkles of a long life lived in a hard place. "'s still a'brewin, gi' it another couple minutes and it shouldn't be bad. Did you find e'rything alright sir?"
Talos smirked; she didn't remember his name. There was more power in a name than people led themselves to believe. Sure, they're just arbitrary letters strung together by a parent at the child's birth, and he wouldn't care about the letter "T" just as Rebecca wouldn't care about the letter "R". But he knew that a name is sacred. You go your whole life answering to it when called, looking around the room when you hear it uttered. It's personal; it's how you know who you are when you're little and all you know otherwise is that water is wet and the yellow striped bugs hurt when they bite you.
"I did madam, thank you. The bed was surprisingly comfortable as well." Talos looked around the room, wishing he had that map from yesterday. He looked on Rebecca's back with tired eyes as she stirred the large pot. "So, any news around town worth hearing?"
She turned her face again briefly, "Nothin' much 'appens 'ere that'd interest you I'm 'fraid. The cocks keep a crowin', the sun happened to rise today, an' the tax man will be aroun' soon, " she declared, soon turning back to her pot.
"That time of year, I guess," he replied, not really knowing when a tax man is supposed to show up. Rebecca opened a cupboard with a loud creak, brought down a bowl and served Talos piping hot stew, the smells of ginger, beets, and pork immediately announcing their existence to his nose. She smiled at him briefly as she returned to the pot and stirred a bit more.
"Say, if a man were looking to venture south into the badlands, what advice could you give him?" Talos asked, waiting for his bowl to cool down some.
She turned fully to him this time, lips slightly parted. "I'd 'ell 'im 'eres nothin' worth adventurin' south fer as all the wastes can offa is death. If it ain't the Orcs that'd get ya then it's the bugs, or the 'eat if you're lucky." she paused, looking sadly towards the counter.
Talos smiled sadly, trying to feel sympathy in the old innkeep's words. He slurped his far-too-hot stew for a couple moments before returning the thought.
"And if he was incessant and decided to go any way?" he smirked, the innkeep avoiding eye contact.
"I'd 'ell 'im 'es a moron for even thinkin' about it." Rebecca shook her head and walked away from Talos slowly before picking up a broom.
He knew it was bad, of course; the towns here this close to the border must have had one or two Orc raids just in the past year, and with Rebecca's age she's probably seen damn well near a hundred.
He slurped down the stew and begin standing up, fishing out a copper and placing it on the counter before walking to the door. With his back towards the innkeeper, Talos smirked and replied,
"Thanks, Rebecca. I'll be sure to tell him that he's a moron."
--
Alanna woke with a thunderous headache, the rays of the mid-morning sun warming her face as she attempted to shoo them away. Failing to do so, she rolled over away from the window and placed two fingers to her head, casting a small restoration spell on herself to reduce the pain.
"
I really, really shouldn't have drank that much,"
Alanna thought as the gentle magic flowed through her temple to the back of her skull, briefly soothing her. She thought back to the previous night as the worst of the pain left her head, and moaned audibly.
That man knew her whole damn life story without using an ounce of magic. Furthermore, he was right; she needed to use this morning to shop for useful clothes at a tailor, and hope the market stalls had appropriate supplies for food. Looking over to her backpack on the wall, she thought that she'd probably need a much larger one, and more waterskins to boot. Using every ounce of her willpower, she sat up in bed and looked down at her clothes.
How stupid was she to wear these clothes to the borderlands, Alanna pondered to herself. The black, thin skirt which hugged her hips, but cut away at her thighs on both sides. The heavy black boots that, while looking fantastic, were more suitable for a brothel than for the wilderness. And a bright red corset; really?
It all made much more sense to her when she knew everything and was an unstoppable force in the world. You know, before yesterday. Her original plan seemed perfectly reasonable as she thought of it on the way here. While the Orcs were strong, they were also dim-witted; meaning, she could charm or enchant any Orc she came across, maybe show them some skin or give them a quick grope of her assets and she could have whatever she wanted from them.
Some part of her pre-sorceress mind knew it was a terrible plan, though, and the man... Talos, affirmed those fears. She rose from bed with another moan and swayed over to the chamber pot, squatting over it and displacing her black panties to relieve herself.
Pushing her soft panties to cover herself once more, she slowly put on her clothes from the previous night. She decided to find a tailor first, as getting clothes fitted to her curvaceous body would likely be the most challenging aspect of her morning. She sighed as she tightened her corset around her torso, her inner-sorceress saddened by the thought of selling it.
Graduating from the college, just a year ago, she was excited to finally dress as her favorite enchantresses do. Most clothing women wore was boring; drably-colored dresses hiding their entire body, covering all the way to the wrists and falling entirely to the floor. In this world, her beautiful professor's words singing in the back of her head, only sorceresses have the power to dress beautifully without being harassed.
She opened her backpack and brought her brush to her hair, stroking it softly several dozen times. Hair, too, was something a sorceress could be proud of. Women of this world wore their hair tied up behind their head, but only a sorceress, or a brothel worker, wore their hair down. It was a sign of independence, with the biggest benefit of course was allowing her to stand out. Looking into her faint reflection in the window, she sighed contentedly seeing that her bright hair survived the night mostly untangled, and placed her brush back in her pack.
Alanna walked downstairs and poured herself some water to combat her persistent headache. The hall of the inn looked homely, but could use more color on the walls, Alanna thought. The small windows at the top of the walls brought in more sunlight than they had any right to, causing her to squint as she strutted over to the counter subconsciously.
"
... never understood how a witch could feel comfortable wearing so little."
she heard the wrinkled innkeep think as Alanna pointed towards the stew. "Morning," she greeted.
"Mornin'," the old woman replied with a grunt as she poured Alanna some of the lukewarm stew. Alanna smelt the strong smell of garlic and pork from the bowl, and another flavor she couldn't recognize.
Alanna forced herself to drink the stew quickly and left the inn, ignoring the thoughts of the other inn-goers as she casually strut out the door.
It only took Alanna a couple of minutes to locate the tailor in the small town, what with its large sign of a shirt and pants hanging from the doorway. She looked up at the sky and noted the suns position; still about two or three hours until mid-day, fortunately.
