Redfloor Tavern

Chatter filled the air as Mildune pushed open the door to the Redfloor tavern and stepped inside. Lanterns hung from a high ceiling lit the spacious room, revealing people crowded about oaken tables and spruce booths, while young women filed through a narrow corridor with platters of meat and mugs of mead. A smooth counter lined the far wall, behind which Balidon, the tavern's owner, stood expertly navigating the orders thrown at him.

Mildune nodded to the old man, before nimbly making his way to the back corner, where a small booth hid in the shadows. There, he found a young man with dark hair, staring out a circular window, with a half drunk mug in his hands. The man's ice blue eyes could be seen clearly in the reflection, watching the people pass by outside in anticipation.

"See anything interesting?" Mildune asked, plopping down in the opposite booth.

A grin spread across the man's face as he turned to Mildune. "I was starting to wonder if you'd make it. The bell struck nine a quarter of an hour ago. Where were you?"

"Sorry about that. My uncle made me wash up before dinner. But he said you had something important to tell me? What is it?"

Roalin held up his finger, before waving over a young waitress, who almost tripped when he smiled at her. Catching herself, she bowed her head to hide her rosy cheeks, and slowed her pace.

"Is there something I can get for you?" She asked when she reached the table. Her eyes flickered between Roalin and the floor as he leaned back in thought.

"Yes, actually. Could you bring some cider for my friend here… and lets see. Perhaps a platter of steaks? If you have any left, that is."

"Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?"

Roalin shook his head. "No, that will be enough. Thank you."

As the waitress rushed back to the kitchen, Mildune folded his arms and leaned back, narrowing his eyes at Roalin. It took him a moment to notice.

"What?"

"What was that?"

"What do you mean? What was what?"

"That smile. You know what I'm talking about. What would poor Melrin think, if she knew you were smiling at other ladies?"

"Come now, Mildune. You know she's the only one I care for. Now, enough of that. Do you wish to hear my news, or not?"

Mildune considered pushing the joke a little more, but ended up deciding against it. "Very well. What was it you wished to tell me?"

Roalin looked around before turning back to Mildune with a grin. "Oh, nothing much. Only that I passed the Withro guards test this morning, and am now a fully fledged member of the scouting regiment! My first assignment will be in two weeks!"

Mildune opened and closed his mouth in shock.

"It- It will?! What are you going to do?"

Roalin shrugged. "I'm not completely certain. The captain only said that one of the nearby towns recently sent a request in for our aid. It's probably nothing, but who knows."

Just then, a cheer went up from the crowd, cutting off anything Mildune wished to ask. Surprised, he looked around the room, wondering what the commotion was about. From their position, they had a decent view, and he was able to spot a bard making his way up to the front. He carried himself proudly, and from his back, he pulled an ivory lute, adorned by golden leaves.

As the bard strummed the first few notes, an excited hush fell over the room, only broken by a cough, and the scraping of a chair.

In a low voice, the bard began a tale of old, of elves and magic, and dwarves and runes. Of hidden dungeons filled with treasure, and deadly dragons, hiding within. Most of the story Mildune had heard before, so he didn't really pay much attention.

Then, when the waitress came back, carrying their food, he motioned towards the bard. "Why does everyone seem so excited? These stories have been told since we were children."

The waitress glanced at him as she set their food down. "Not quite like this one. Supposedly, this bard comes from the distant lands, near the Land's Edge, and he brings a certain story few know of. Oh, I think this is it now!"

The waitress went back to her work, and Mildune shifted his gaze back to the bard. His curiosity piqued, he began to listen.

'-and with a desperate strike, Emerien slashed the Solvengold Dragon, forcing it back into the mountains of Silcrest. Then, the elves, and the dwarves, and all the other races worked together to seal it within, most of which died in the process, their mana drained to its last embers. Inside, Solvengold roared, tearing at the walls that held it, and shaking the very ground itself!"

The crowd gasped as a breeze swept through the room, snuffing all the lanterns but the one flickering above the bard. His eyes turned cold as he gaze across the room, his voice piercing the silence.

"It worked, and in the end the dragon was sealed away… But recently there have been a rise of strange rumors, circling the lands near the forbidden mountains, of strange beasts, monstrous in appearance, with overwhelming strength, and impenetrable skin. They say, this is the work of the dragon, returning once more in search of those who wronged him. His forces, commanded by the thirteen Soulless Ones, spread out across the land, in search of the one prophesied to stop him. But who that might be, we may never know…."

With that, the bard jumped down from the table he stood upon, and one by one the lanterns were relit. As the room revealed itself once more, Mildune was surprised to find himself leaning forward, enthralled by the story. Opposite him, Roalin chuckled.

"If what he said was true, then we would have heard news of this. Surely such things would not go by unnoticed."

Cyus reluctantly nodded. "True. I suppose there would be at least some news. But still, wouldn't it be interesting if it was true. Perhaps I'll ask the merchants when they arrive here during the festival."

"If you do, I swear I'm not walking around with you," Roalin said, standing. Mildune grinned, and after finishing off the least of the meat, stood as well.

"That doesn't bother me. I assumed you would be chasing after Melrin all night anyways. Which means you'll be stuck in front the bread stall, spending every last coin you have on loaves."

Left with nothing to say, Roalin threw his hands up in defeat, and led the way out of the tavern. The crisp air outside sent a chill down Mildune's spine, and he plunged his hands into his pockets. "Looks like we'll be having an early winter," Rolain said, looking skyward. Overhead, two moons could be seen racing through a field of stars in a never ending game. "Well, I won't be able to see you until the festival, so let's meet near the old library, after the bell strikes eight. Agreed?"

"Indeed. That time will work well for me. I'll see you then," Mildune said, and with a wave of farwell, he was off down the street. Led by the candlelight, Mildune made his way down the familiar road, and back to his home.