Grub's a bit more important than revenge at the moment, innit?

With the frail-looking freckled lass leaning on my shoulder, I strolled me way through the manor and found the bloody great double front doors, throwing them open and stepping out without a single look back.

She needed to eat, I needed to leave, and those tossers needed to get fucked.

Unfortunately, while the second of those goals had been accomplished, and believe me, I was already planning for the third, I realised it’d be pretty bloody difficult to achieve the first when I was even more penniless here than I was back in old Blighty.

“Oi, freckles. I know you probably ain’t got the strength to talk much, but before you collapse like an ‘ouse of cards, mind giving me some ideas on nabbing some scran? Much as I’d love to go for some fine dining, me pockets are mighty empty-lookin’ right about now,” I asked, causing the lass to weakly tilt her head up at me.

“You… are one of the legendary heroes… many would help you free of charge…” she muttered, barely able to get her words out. If I was to hazard a guess, food probably wasn’t the only essential that the poor thing had been deprived of. Sounded like her throat was dry as the bloody desert.

Me and freckles waltzed through the front gate and hobbled down the mound that the manor was built on. At the bottom of the mound was a ruddy great city, surrounded by massive grey walls. Though, despite the size of the place, I could tell with one glance the locals were packed like sardines. Was willing to bet the handful of nasty cunts living at the top of that hill probably owned more than everyone poor bastard down at the bottom combined, too.

Oh, shove it, you gloomy bastard. No point whinging and whining about societal problems when I only just bloody got here. Needs to get me bearings straight first. And so far as I could tell, the only way that was gonna happen is if I could snag some info from the frail lass.

Which meant it was rapport building time until we found some grub.

“So, it’d be a tad rude of me to keep calling you freckles, yeah? You got a name you can remember or summat?” I asked, hoping I could at least fake that whole ‘friendliness’ charade that folks like to lay on. Never got it meself, honestly. Seems like a load of rubbish.

“My…name…?” The girl croaked, going silent for a few seconds, before quietly piping up again. “Courteney… I think… my name is… Courteney…”

“Courteney, is it? Can’t be ‘avin’ any of that, only pansies have names ended in -y. You’re Court now, ‘ear me?”

“H-huh? O-Okay…” Lass seemed a bit startled at me, but I was doing her a solid if nothing else. Bit of shite name, honestly.

“Well, Court, I’ve done ye one favour, and I’m about to do ya’s another, so once you’ve had ya fill, I’m gonna get me own back by asking ya’s some questions about this place. Needs to survive here for a while if I’m ever gonna make it home to watch the Euros next year. After that, ye can trot off wherever ye please. Not that I ‘spect ye’ve really got anywhere to go, mind.”

“I-I see…” the lass coughed. Sounded a bit surprised, she did. Guess it made sense, someone who’d been forced to do everything some prissy twat said all this time probably expected me to demand something else of her. But I ain’t about to lower meself to the level of those bastards. Stringing someone along with debt ain’t all that much better than doing it with magic, even if you’re pretending there’s some sort of choice to it.

In the meanwhile, Court and I had stumbled into the city and started passing by buildings and stalls. Most of the places close to the mound were tents and barracks for knights and guards, who all looked at me like I was a bloody alien when I trotted on down past them. Then again, technically I was an alien, so I could hardly say it was unfair.

You could tell who the rich sods were, since half of them lived right under the hill. Probably paid a shite load to make sure they was protected by the twats in the silver cloaks that I assumed were guards. Nasty sods, bet they’ve never worked a day in their bloody life for that money.

Further in was where you started to see shops and stalls, with the first few being blacksmiths, tailors and other other shite that the rich likely wanted near and convenient. It was only after that that we finally started seeing places to buy food, as well as taverns and the like. I was planning to stop at a stall and grab some food to eat on the go, but one look at the lass told me she probably needed to sit down for a while. Hell, she hadn’t stood on her own two feet the whole way here.

Figuring that it was unlikely a place stuck in the middle ages would have a chippie round the corner, I settled for the next best thing and hobbled over to a nearby inn. With any luck, we’d be able to get some decent scran. Or at least enough to make sure the lass wasn’t booking a one way ticket to the great beyond.

Soon as I popped the door open, half the inn turned to stare at the pair of us, and honestly, I could hardly fault them for that. A bloke in clothes completely foreign to ye, and a lass who looks like she’s frantically knocking on death's door? Who wouldn’t turn to have a look. Either way, no point paying attention to this lot when the lass I just saved from slavery looked about ready to take her last ever afternoon kip.

I plopped her down at one of the few empty tables left in the place, making sure she had enough strength left to stay sat upright, and then I strolled me way up to the bar to grab her some grub. And some for meself too, come to think of it. Hadn’t had me afternoon maccies yet. Thankfully, the old chap with the white beard behind the bar looked like a fairly affable gent. With any luck, he’d actually hear me out instead of chucking me out the door.

“Hullo ‘ullo. Looks like the lass ye came in with ain’t eaten since last moon. You ‘opin’ to fill up that empty stomach, is ye?”

Finally, someone who actually spoke the same bloody language.

“Bit of scran and a drink for the lady would be stellar, ta. And I wouldn’t mind summat for meself too. Been a bit of a day, it has. Though, I ‘as to admit, I ain’t got a penny to me name. Or… well, whatever money it is you chaps use, at least.”

“Ha! Rare to see folk as queer as ye show up at me door, let alone asking for free food and ale. I respect the nerve, young lad, but I does ‘ave to ask; why’d ye ‘spect me to fork summat over to ye for free, when every other weary traveller and starving beggar ‘as to pay their way?”

“Well, I was ‘opin’ you’d make an exception, for the good of the country. Y’see, y’know those five other-worldly heroes you lot ‘as been waitin’ for, the ones who can slay that ruddy great lizard? Well, I ‘appens to be one of ‘em.”

The whole bloody place went silent all at once. If they wasn’t all listening before, they sure as hell was now. A second or two passed, though it felt like a bloody fortnight. Not a sound was made, no one wanted to be the first to shatter the tension. Until.

“PAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” The old innkeep erupted into raucous laughter, and a beat later the entire inn joined in with him. Suppose I should have expected that. Though it took an aggravatingly long while for it to die down before the old chap started talking again. “Well, ye look the part, I’ll give you that. Never seen a lad dressed as queer as ye step into me inn before. But I ain’t heard so much as a whisper that the five heroes have made even a peep yet, alone strollin’ around announcin’ ‘emselves for free food. And an innkeeper always knows the word on the street. So right now, chappy, if ye wants me to believe ye, ye’re gonna ‘ave to gimme some proof.”

“Proof? Whaddyou want as proof, a feckin’ sermon?”

“Nothin’ so grand. Just a peek at that nomicon copy ye should ‘ave. After all, ain’t the five heroes the only ones with the real thing? Shouldn’t be too hard for ye, should it?”

Ah, bollocks. Should have bloody guessed, shouldn’t I? Though, just as I was thinking I was shit out of luck, the inn door swung open, and all attention turned away from me.

“He tells the truth!” There came a proud voice behind me. A voice that belonged to a woman, and a woman I recognised at that. It was the lass with the black hair from the summoning. She hadn’t said a word, but she was hard to bloody miss with those dragon tats covering both of her arms. She looked the least pansy-ish of the four pansies, that’s for sure. And now, here she was, waltzing in behind me, standing taller than anyone else in the inn, and holding up a black leather book. This time, the silence in the inn wasn’t broken by laughter.

“That’s… the real Drakonomicon…” muttered the old innkeep. “The legendary heroes are really here…”