Chapter 2: Unwelcome Welcome

After the annoying detour with Guinefort, Sharon Archeron arrives in Vinebridge. Her skeleton entourage carried her vehicle with utmost care, making the travel even more comfortable than a horse drawn carriage would have been.

They passed many cooperages making the wine barrels that the wineries put to good use to hold their famous beverage. Sharon considered how many barrels have been opened during special occasions back at her castle. There was a novelty to see the process if even so briefly as they passed her by.

The serenity of the tourism didn’t last too long though, for once she entered the city proper, the presence of 12 Undead skeletons carrying a beautiful chair sedan made people stop dead in their tracks.

“Oh dear lord!”

“It’s really one of them!”

“Stay back my child! You don’t want to become a skeleton like them!”

Sharon sneered as she looked outside at the shocked faces and disapproving murmurs.

“They act like they don’t have a skeleton inside of them this very minute!” she mumbled as they approached the main castle.

It was a building of function, as it was more of a fort than castle. A large square stone monument built as a means of defending the river crossing back when it was built, now housing the Tollmaster, her first visit. The bridge itself was an impressive work, having stood over 100 years now and connected with the capital Asphodel. You could even see its castle from here.

“It’ll be nice to see king Minos after all this. He’s been so gracious to my family.” She said as her entourage arrived at the entrance to the castle.

The guards had been informed of her arrival and while frightened they did keep to their posts.

“L-L-Lady Sharon of House Archeron has arrived!” bellowed the guard captain and some ceremonial trumpeters played a weak fanfare.

A skeleton opened the door to the sedan and another assisted Sharon as she exited the vehicle. She took a look at all the guards, each time making them wince.

“Please take my luggage with us,” she ordered her skeletons.

Moments later the doors to the castle opened and a small portly man appeared, dressed in a fittingly wine red doublet and a receding hairline.

“Ah! Lady Sharon! Welcome! How was your trip?” he yelled out, more confident and friendlier than anyone has been so far.

“Just fine, Tollmaster. I had a run in with some brigands in the forest but nothing that my servants couldn’t handle.”

Sharon reached her hand out to Tollmaster Malvein.

“Oh dear! That won’t do!” he said distressed before giving her hand a kiss as is customary. “You really should stay on the main road my Lady!”

“Yes, but the weather was so nice that I just had to have a picnic. It would be such a waste to not enjoy what the day gives, don’t you agree?”

“Why, yes, I suppose you’re right! Anyways, come on in! To the throne room! After we have done our due diligence I’ll show you to your room you’ll be staying in!”

Sharon and her clattering band of skeletons followed suit, with Sharon walking next to Tollmaster Malvein as she was followed by her skeletons walking in twos, half carrying the chests and cases of gifts and her own personal belongings and the other half armed but not poised to attack. Malvein’s own guards walked in front and to the side of them.

The interior of the so called castle reflected the exterior. Very functional construction, but it was trying to make up for it with garish decorations. Banners featuring the Malvein coat of arms, a cluster of grapes ontop of a simple depiction of a bridge.

They climbed up several flights of stairs, with Sharon asking a skeleton to carry her as she disliked the effort. They then arrived at the throne room, which felt more like a banquet hall that had placed a wooden throne in the center. A nice touch that Sharon couldn’t help but appreciate was the tall stained glass windows coloring the room in their light. Large tapestries hung between the windows featuring men at work making wine. The guards closed the door and placed themselves on each of the three doors that connected the throne room.

“Alright, well, let’s get this going, shall we?” said Malvein as he seated himself on the throne. “Go ahead dear!”

Sharon nodded and curtsied towards the Tollmaster.

“Greetings oh Tollmaster Malvein. I bring words from my father Hayden, asking for your hospitality as I stay here for the night. Along with words I bring gifts, such as these rare vases taken from a campaign decades ago from our enemies up north. And while it certainly won’t compete with your own drink, this wine has been sent-”

“Well done, well done!” clapped Malvein.

“But I have more to show you, to show you the gratitude of hospi-”

“Yes yes, but we can go through the rest later. I was just wondering, did you have anything specific for me? Something someone told you to give to me?”

Malvein was tapping his foot on the stone floor, the acoustics carrying it throughout the room.

“Oh, you mean this? Orpheus, please hand the Tollmaster the satchel from Marcus.”

A skeleton grabbed a mundane little satchel and handed it to Malvein, who grabbed it in a hurry. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he opened it and took out something that Sharon couldn’t see. His eyes widened and then he put it back in the satchel, closed his eyes and then acted like before.

“You seem to be very pleased with his gift.”

“Yes, very nice! Just what I always wanted! Now! A toast!”

The Tollmaster clapped his hands as his guards opened one of the doors and some servants entered carrying a keg of wine along with two ornate goblets.

“Please, have a drink! You can’t come all the way to Vinebridge without trying our famous wine!”

Sharon was forcibly handed a goblet and a servant filled it to the brim.

“My father said that I’d best wait to try the devil’s drink until I was a little more of age.”

“It’ll be our little secret! Come now, you seem much more mature for your age. It’s good to get started early so you can learn to differentiate between the good quality and the bad! Think of what a favor I’m doing for you where your first wine is of Vinebridge’s finest vintage!”

Sharon looked perplexed at the man and his insistence that she drink it. She looked at her Skeletons who did nothing more then stare back at her. She looked about the room and noticed the guards holding tightly to their halberds and Malvein himself looking rather strained in the face.

“Well I’d hate to drink by myself, my father said that was an act of vagrants. Won’t you join me for a drink?” she asks.

“R-right, of course! A DRINK! NOW!” he yelled, getting a goblet thrust into his hand and a servant pouring a small amount of wine into it.

“To our houses continued friendship!” he bellowed!

“To your fine drink!” she responded and took a large sip.

Malvein had raised his goblet to his lips but once she took a large gulp he stopped, staring intently at her.

She looked at him puzzled and then she started getting wobbly and collapsed, a skeleton immediately stopping her fall by grabbing onto her, laying her down while supporting her.

“Ha. Ha! Ha ha ha ha! Yes! It is done!” cried out Malvein as he tossed the goblet away from himself, clattering on the floor.

“See to it that she’s placed in the guest room! Keep the skeletons away! They shouldn’t be too much trouble now that she’s out cold!”

As the guards approached, halberds at the ready, Sharon opened her eyes and sat up.

“Aaaaaagh!” cried out Malvein and the guards took a step back.

Sharon spat out the wine, having just kept it in her mouth.

“Galen. Please wash my mouth of this filth.”

Said skeleton took out its medical bag and provided her with care as her mouth was cleaned and any amount of the drug was now negligible.

“Very well, perhaps you’d be so kind to tell me why you felt the need to drug the heiress of House of Archeron?”

Sharon stood up and dusted off her dress before crossing her arms, looking at him sternly.

“G-Guards! Protect me!”

The guards surrounded the portly traitor as they slowly backed away towards on of the doors.

“Lock the doors! Barricade them! They must not leave!”

Sharon heard the remaining closed doors be locked along with the scurrying of metal plated feet of guards.

“Not quite what I was expecting coming here…”