Retired Hero Opens an Inn (1)
A clear morning after the rain. I rode past a tranquil lake shimmering like jade.
The Holy Sword strapped to my saddle jostled with the horse's gait. I was heading to a small city I'd briefly visited during my hero days. It was called Rosens, a place with stunning scenery. I'd long ago decided that if I ever retired and opened an inn, it'd be here.
Back then, the city was in rough shape. Who knew what it was like now? Lost in such thoughts, I spotted something ahead—a cargo wagon loaded with crates. This was the only road to Rosens, so they had to be headed there too.
I urged my horse faster and pulled up alongside. "Morning."
The middle-aged man on the driver's seat turned to me, eyeing me suspiciously before his gaze settled on the Holy Sword. "If you're planning to rob us, you'd better be ready. Folks waiting on these goods might hunt you down and kill you."
"I'm no bandit. Just a traveler."
"And I'm no merchant. I'm the king."
I grinned at his quip. "Really no bandit. If I were, I'd have slit your throat and taken the wagon by now. Why bother chatting?"
"Ha! Then what're you doing on this backroad? Nothing ahead but Rosens."
"Headed to Rosens."
"Why?"
"To open an inn."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "You gone mad?"
"Not a bit. I cook well, got plenty of funds. All set for starting an inn."
He fixed me with a long look, then burst out laughing. "You're nuts!"
After guffawing, he introduced himself. "Name's Mollo. Middleman trader shuttling between Bue and Rosens."
"Bertrand."
"Fine name. You look like you might've been a mercenary or something."
Mollo glanced at the Holy Sword again.
"Just your average adventurer."
"Ah, adventurer. Romantic gig. So why open an inn in Rosens of all places?"
"Clean air, clear water. Nowhere better."
"Then you should've gone to Montroe or Lozan. You'll just be disappointed. Better turn back to Bue and scout elsewhere."
"Thanks for the advice. But my mind's made up."
Mollo tsked. As he'd hinted, anyone hearing I wanted to open an inn in Rosens now would think me insane. But I knew Rosens could be a goldmine if you played its troubles right.
"No idea what fool reasoning led you here, but come along. Was getting lonely riding solo."
We rode side by side, chatting about local news and politics. As a trader, Mollo was plugged into every rumor: Collusion among Kusobo lords and their independence bid. Naval disaster against the Elion Kingdom. Monster massacre at the northern Demon King's Castle and the Demon King's death.
"Any guess who the lunatic stormed the Demon King's Castle and wrecked it?"
"Haha... Beats me."
"Word is, Lurtjog, the blue dragon just woken from hibernation."
"Why would Lurtjog hit the Demon King's Castle?"
"Who knows what that giant lizard thinks. Woke up from a long nap to some punk strutting around—probably squashed him on principle."
"Sounds more plausible if it was King Blavan risen from the grave for revenge."
Mollo roared with laughter. "Hahaha! That tracks."
Hearing my own deeds secondhand felt odd. But I couldn't claim credit. Secret pact with the royal palace—they'd worked hard to keep my identity under wraps. A popular savior would've undermined the king's support. Nothing threatens a throne like outshining the crown.
The lake narrowed endlessly until its waters spilled into a river via a small waterfall. Following it, the conifers thinned, revealing Rosens in the distance.
Rosens was a cluster of simple buildings with bright orange gabled roofs, like a mushroom patch. Behind loomed the rugged Vurn Mountains like a screen. Barren rock faces striped with neat ledges, snow piling higher toward peaks that gleamed pure white. Above them, piercing blue sky and clouds like torn cotton drifted lazily.
The river flowed before the city, backed by mountains; fields sprawled around. Towering conifers dotted the farmland, spring wildflowers exploding in a riot of color.
Beautiful as ever—enough to ache the heart.
"Truly stunning."
"Hm... Scenery, yeah, I'll give you that."
Mollo glanced around, then snapped his old horse onward. "Let's move."
Farmers with plows worked the fields—no draft animals or oxen in sight. Mollo tsked. "Crop year's doomed. How'll they plow and sow like that?"
Crude wooden barricades zigzagged the road. Men armed with rough blades and sickles eyed us darkly.
"Militia. Touchy bunch—best not tangle."
Mollo muttered as we passed. We entered via cracked cobblestones. The city was eerily quiet. Wide streets empty, gutters littered with broken furniture and trash. Buildings dark, doors ajar.
A scrawny dog spotted us, tucked tail, and fled. Even under warm spring sun, Rosens chilled.
"Ghost town, right?"
Mollo scanned bitterly. "Used to thrive here—midpoint between Bue south and Fribourg north. Bypass it, you detour the mountains big time."
He eyed the northern foothills coldly. "Then those Golluks hunkered down up there. End of story."
Mollo tsked again. "Legion came to 'protect' the royal direct territory... Got wiped out. Now no one goes north."
Golluks: hulking humanoid monsters in the peaks, males averaging three meters. Packs in jagged terrain made them hell to root out. A few years back, they'd sealed the northern route. Rosens lost its hub status overnight.
That was why Mollo tried talking me out of it. But I knew all this—and that's exactly why I was starting here.
We headed to city hall. Mollo for deliveries; I had business there too.
A two-story brick gable building with attached public warehouse—standard setup. Doors wide, workers tallying crates and sacks.
"Morning, Mollo. Right on time."
"Tidying up? Perfect."
They eyed me dismounting. "Who's this? With you?"
"Says he's settling here."
"Settling...? Here...?"
They gawked like at a madman. "Folks are fleeing and he... What the...?"
"Not your concern. Unload."
Still baffled, they moved to the wagon. I slipped past into city hall.
A woman at the desk before a cold hearth clicked an abacus, buried in ledgers. So focused, she didn't notice me till I spoke.
"Excuse me."
She jolted up. Blonde ponytail, glasses, sharp-eyed beauty.
"What?"
"Here to settle."
She adjusted her glasses, scanning me. "Hm... You look sane enough..."
"Mind's fine too."
"Good. ID first."
I handed it over. She read, shot from her chair—toppling it. Pale-faced, oblivious to the crash, she stared.
"S-sorry... I didn't recognize..."
