The Tavern

The third time we’ve met…

A cold sweat overtook Sallus, his stomach in knots. On one hand, he was thankful the previous day was not a vivid dream. On the other…

...That means we met once before yesterday…

Sallus chose not to dwell on that aspect right now, as more likely than not he’d have at least one more opportunity tomorrow morning to ask about it. Reaching into his coat for a handkerchief to wipe his brow, his hand grazed the map he had shown Scagliola the day prior. Taking both out, Sallus unfolded the map and slid it across the table.

“If you may humor me,” He started, dabbing at his forehead, “Could you be so kind as to mark on my map where I should turn off the Salt Road?”

Scagliola looked down at the map; it was the same one presented to him yesterday. He scanned the Salt Road to locate Fahbur, and with a chalk marker circled where he suspected the tavern was located while crossing out a section of road south of the tavern.

“I believe this is where you will want to look for the sign,” Scagliola responded, “After that, it is a short walk to the town center.”

“Benin’ye.” Sallus thanked Scagliola, pausing for a moment, “Not to tread old ground again, but you were surprised by my greeting yesterday. When was the last time you heard the old tongue in your travels?”

Scagiola scratched at his beard, thinking back on the individuals he met since first leaving Vermis.

“If I am honest, I don’t believe anyone I’ve met up until now openly spoke to me in anything in the common tongue.”

“In that case,” Sallus responded, “It might be safer to speak so none can eavesdrop.”

Scagliola cocked an eyebrow, the accent was a little forced, but this northerner might very well be fluent in the old tongue. He cautiously looked around the tavern; both patrons and staff were none the wiser to their conversation.

“Very well,” Scagliola joined in on the clandestine conversation, “Please tell me everything you did after you left the tavern…”

The two shared the events of their previous day freely in their secondary language, having little concern being overheard. For Sallus, his uneventful journey south did not raise concern for either him or Scagliola.

“So you made it all the way to Fahbur,” Scagliola commented as he looked back down at the map, “Nothing seems out of sort… though you made quite the distance just to be sent back…”

“How far have you made it the past 2 days?” Sallus asked.

“I have actually stayed at the tavern the whole time,” Scagliola responded, “I am actually waiting on an old acquaintance, who suggested we meet here.”

“And have you encountered anything unusual,” Sallus continued, “Any other guests acting differently between days?”

“Other than yourself? No others seem to have changed behavior to suggest… awareness.” Scagliola answered.

Sallus let the silence linger for a short time as he digested the information he got from Scagliola. In the most basic sense, simply entering this tavern has caused the two of them to be trapped in a temporal loop, repeating the same day. As a sponsor of the Brightharbor Academy, it behooved him to not only uncover the source of this phenomenon but also the parameters of its influence.

“My kin, I ask that you hold onto this for me.” Sallus said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a marked gild, “I have no doubts we shall meet again when the time comes to return it.”

Scagliola, understanding the subtext of Sallus’ statement, accepted the coin by placing it in a shirt pocket. Sallus hadn’t taken much notice of his companion’s garb before today, but the waistcoat was clearly of high quality. Made from a deep green fabric, it included a gold embroidered crest of the Duchy of Vermis stitched onto the pocket.

“I plan to stay awake tonight,” Sallus confided in Scagliola his plan for today, “If you happen to uncover any clues, please save them for tomorrow.”

It was already midday by the time the two had finished their discussions. Scagliola rose from the table first, a departure from yesterday, and headed out of the tavern. Sallus retired back to his private room and set a timed alarm, content to take the time to rest before the long night ahead.

A loud chirping erupted from the small wooden bird Sallus placed on the nightstand, eyes glowing with aether. Firmly grasping the figure, Sallus disabled the alarm and looked out the window to confirm the sun had already set. He locked the door to his room and headed back down to the tavern to eat and drink his way to whatever answers find him tonight.

Sallus strained to stay awake at the tavern, but he had to figure out if the cycle could be prevented. He opened a satchel of dried herbs, a specialty tea from the Goldvine Forest, after requesting a cup of hot water. Sallus pinched off a small amount into the cup to steep. Downing the concoction in a single gulp, he chased it with a table wine. The taste would never agree with him, nor should it. Even the Braelings who call the forest their home dare not to drink more than a thimble a day due to its strength. Within minutes, a newfound sense of wakefulness took over Sallus’ mind, and he continued his silent vigil to wait out the night.

Sallus watched as patrons entered and left the tavern, and as cooks and barmaids changed over for their shifts. While not paying specific attention to the amount of time spent, Sallus believed another 3 hours had passed since he drank his tea. He must be getting close to midnight, to the changeover to the new day.

As if on cue, Sallus watched as pale green haze descended from the floor above. It crawled across the ground, and the otherwise jovial crowd began to silence. One by one, the inhabitants of the tavern were coerced into a deep slumber. The haze surrounded Sallus, who could feel the otherworldly presence around him being held back by the tea’s invigorating properties.

THE VOID DEMANDS

A chorus of voices rang out, Sallus could feel the voices reverberate within him while deafening him from without. His eyes getting heavy, he watched as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. An older gentleman with a thick, manicured beard flipping a coin in his hand.

THE VOID DEMANDS SLEEP

____________________________________

Sallus jolted awake. He was back upstairs in his private room. Everything was laid out exactly as the previous day. He reached for the folded note and instinctively opened it.

SEEK BELOW

The message had changed, whether it was due to Sallus staying in the tavern or trying to endure the night he could not confirm. He decided to change into his formal academy uniform today, packing away his travel clothes. As he began to fold up his pants a piece of paper fell out of the pocket.

‘I don’t recall holding anything in there...’ thought Sallus as he unfolded the sheet.

KEEP THE TALISMAN ON ITS FOREHEAD
XX