Chapter 30: Inns, Rare Havens for Travelers
Inns were one of the few places where travelers could let their guard down and rest. To be honest, it was hard to call even inns completely safe, but compared to sleeping anywhere else, they fell short in every way. And inns were just about the only spots where, for a price, you could wash up with warm water.
"We're resting. I'll just quickly check if anything's changed while I was away."
"Can't I come with you?"
"In that state?"
Marin glanced at herself. Her clothes were caked in dirt, her hands black as if dipped in ash. She hadn't bathed in days, her hair felt greasy, and she probably reeked.
"……!"
She was the type who could go a week without washing and be fine. Most people were like that. But even they bathed when they had to—like when they wanted to look good in front of someone special.
Marin bolted for the inn.
"What are you planning, leaving us behind?"
"Doing some things I can't talk about?"
"Not denying it, huh."
"Nothing to hide, really. You're sharper than I thought, Bay."
"I'm naive about the world, sure, but I'm no idiot. I'd be dead by now without this much common sense. Report back properly. Let's go, Rebela. You can wash up, right?"
"Probably fine. My senses are so dulled it's almost scary."
Rebela's left arm dangled limply as she swung it, the unnatural motion making Bayola flinch.
"Mention my name, and I'll get you whatever you need."
Marhal watched the three disappear into the inn, then headed for Ena's general store.
The street with the store was far busier now than when he'd just returned. Back then, the land race had just started, and everyone was out. Not anymore. Passersby greeted him as they went.
"When'd you get back? Long time no see."
"Got any good booze in?"
"If I did, I'd have drunk it all."
Even the liquor vendor.
"Marhal, huh? Where'd you pick up that kid?"
"Kid? You mean Karian?"
"Yeah, that one. Sharp as a tack—does whatever you tell him. Youth's wasted on the young. If my old man had half that hustle..."
"Don't go poaching promising young lads, now."
"Me? Do I look like that type?"
"To a lady with a record? If your hubby had been that diligent, you'd have lost an arm or a leg by now."
"That's why I stick with him, ain't it?"
Even in the West, where bottom-barrel lives abounded, this madame took the cake.
After survival check-ins, Marhal arrived at Ena's store and spotted Karian hauling goods.
"Karian. What're you doing here?"
"Marhal? Oh, uh—hold on!"
Karian set down his trembling load and approached with a grin.
"You're back!"
"Didn't you get your provisional deed? What's this?"
Karian averted his eyes. It was embarrassing to admit he was stuck doing odd jobs despite becoming a landlord, barely able to read.
"Right, you went to the race too. How'd it go?"
"Bust. Starting late made it impossible."
"Even you strike out sometimes."
"I'm human too. Ena around?"
"Sorting stock in the back warehouse."
"Thanks. I'll learn the ropes hard."
Marhal slipped past the store. Karian slumped by the crates with a sigh.
"Haa... What was that?"
When Marhal said he hadn't claimed land, Karian had felt secret relief. He had his pride. He'd left home alone, but arrived in the West with peers—and parted ways en route. Those he could call friends had all settled before reaching the far-west pioneer village. More like crashing than settling. The West was livable enough for sturdy young men. Unlike home, where a bad harvest meant starvation, here you earned daily bread. His old pals were content, excusing they'd join the land race someday while sinking into booze and women. He'd met countless others who'd ditched dreams for that reality. Amid them, Karian entered the race and became a landlord. Pride-worthy feat.
But Marhal shattered it. Became landlord way sooner, knew way more. Childish, but Karian imagined fighting him—and doubted he'd win. Marhal was landlord and seasoned mercenary. No match for a regular guy who threw punches.
"Haa..."
Jealousy stung. If Marhal were a stranger, he'd curse him like distant kings, nobles, rich folk. But he knew Marhal, who was his benefactor. Ugly as it was, he couldn't kill the bubbling resentment.
Work. Just work.
Slap! Karian smacked his own cheek and hoisted the crate again.
* * *
Behind Ena's store loomed a warehouse bigger than the shop itself—the village's logistics backbone, used by all local merchants. Ena was matching ledgers to goods in the dim interior.
"You're back."
"Knew without looking?"
"Your footsteps give me chills. Gonna fix that?"
"You're the creepy one for picking it up. Knights who fly and crawl miss it."
"Dunno. Training like the old man said worked."
Just basics passed down, yet she detected the legendary criminal's techniques by ear alone. Her knight husband was no ordinary soul.
At least perceptive enough to spot the Empire's rot.
If Ena's tale held, she'd learned of his death through impossible channels. Likely involving the emperor or his elites. Her skills made his prowess believable. Half-taught scraps in spare time yielded this. The world was vast, full of oddballs.
"How's Karian?"
"Eager, quick learner. Few months, he'll run warehouses solo."
"Good. Nothing special happen?"
"Was nothing—till now."
A shadow fell at the entrance. Five men. Three with hammers or bars—common tools. One longsword, one crossbow.
"Sorry, Ena. Not our choice."
"Hm. Ersi—what's this?"
"Ma, Marhal?"
"What, dangerous guy?"
Two Marhal knew: everyday laborers. Worked days, blew nights on booze, gambling, women; hollow-eyed back to work. The other three, strangers.
New blood.
Year away, plus race—village got fresh faces aplenty. These seemed new hires.
"Mercenary. Pals with guild chief."
"Skill?"
"Dunno! No locals mess with Marhal!"
Ersi looked panicked. Stay in village days, you knew Marhal wasn't average. Everyone greeted him. Newcomers hesitated too.
"Kill 'em all. Mercs are nothing barehanded."
"R-Really?"
"Think I'd fake it, moron? No time! Kill! Raaah!"
Men charged with roars. Threatening sight.
"Help?"
"Crossbow."
Ena spat curtly, brushed hands eyeing rushers. She hunched, body shrinking despite build. Hands clasped forward, she dodged hammer swing, ducked head. Punched blind.
Thwack!
Drumbeat rang. Man crumpled gurgling, no scream.
Weapons whiffed; her torso swayed, drumbeats followed. As she punched, sword swung.
"Dieee!"
Ena seemed ready, foot sliding wide. Body glided; blade sliced air.
Pfsh.
Steak-fork stab sound. Not flesh-meets-fist.
"Guhk!"
"Sword means no excuses in death, kid."
Man spewed blood, collapsed. Her fist tingled. Priest couldn't save this.
Ena shook hand, straightened shoulders. Over there, Marhal gripped crossbow man's arm—limp, bones shattered.
"You could knight now."
"Even if ordered, nah."
"These guys?"
"Time to find out. Right, Ersi?"
Ersi, barely breathing, quaked.
"I, I... just..."
"Shut it. Want this too?"
Beside Ena, a man drooled blood from mouth, eyes rolled white.
"They offered cash, no choice..."
"Cash to kill me? Kid. Who hooked you up when you rolled in alone? Who covered when sloppy fingers nearly cost your wrist?"
"No, really..."
Rare pioneer unscathed by Ena's aid—and Ersi wasn't. Her death might've spared this misery. Beastly resolve failed; despair deepened.
"So, what this time? Gambling? Women?"
"Sure win! They cheated! Yeah, their fault!"
Crack! Ena cracked his skull. Ersi blacked out.
"Gambling den popped up while gone. Thought Dagun had it handled—not so."
"I'll check. Take Ersi?"
"Landlord handles? Merchant can't complain."
Ena shrugged. Tough hausfrau, could drop men—but pros digging traps kill her. Without Marhal on crossbow, who knows.
Marhal differed. Three deeds holder, solved all his lands' woes personally.
"Borrow Karian too."
"Him?"
"Landlords learn duties. Can't delegate everything."
"...Green to rough stuff. Go easy."
"Worried now?"
"Get him and scram!"
"Small warehouse free? Borrowing!"
Marhal dragged unconscious Ersi out. Near big warehouse, small ones clustered—one for non-storage. Merchants peeked at commotion.
"Know small warehouse? Fetch Karian. Gambling spot—who, where?"
Merchants mobilized sharp. Marhal hauled Ersi inside.
Brick-mud hut soundproofed mid-layer sawdust. Chained chair, nearby black stains.
Marhal chained Ersi to chair as Karian arrived.
"This warehouse wasn't disused..."
Karian gaped at bound Ersi.
"This...?"
"Dispute resolution. Village problems. Landlord duty."
"What'd Ersi do?"
Village vast yet tight. Helping Ena, Karian knew regulars. Ersi: daily job-hunter at guild or store strip.
"Gambling, attempted murder. Attempt failed."
"Heard noise earlier—don't tell me?"
"That."
"Why? Success means death before escape."
Karian baffled. Debts payable somehow. Ena rich, but daylight kill? Lynched fleeing. Irrational.
"If all thought so. Watch. Might be you someday."
Karian gulped. Marhal slapped Ersi; teeth scattered on floor.