Power Quest: The Rebellion of Terrakia - Andrew Koenig (guided reading books txt) 📗

was visible in her sleeveless tunic.  Her curly, black hair was held back under a green bandana.  A cigar hung from her mouth, filling the air around her head with a heavy grey cloud.  Her arms were crossed as she glared back at Casimer.

            “What, you’re going to stare at me now?”  Her voice was gruff and deep, muddied from years of smoking.  Again, Casimer blushed a deep red and looked back to Zak.

            “Well, feel free to take any open table you can find, Mr. Iliev.”  The boy mumbled, shrinking in his own orange tunic.  Zak thanked him and shuffled his way through the tavern, passing patron after patron until he reached a small table in the corner of the room, right beside the stairs.  It was mostly hidden from the main room and the stairs kept it mostly hidden in shadows.  Casimer watched them get settled into their wooden chairs, Alld sitting beside the strange woman, his arm on the back of her chair.

            Zak’s small group sat around, speaking of something Casimer couldn’t hope to overhear, even if he was beside them.  He continued to watch the bard, who had taken to singing a slow ballad of forlorn lovers, each from a different house of royal rivalry.  Her slender fingers plucked the strings of her lute, which sung sweet harmonies carried beneath her gentle voice.

            “It’s been ages since we’ve had a bard in here.”  Granny Velma sighed, appearing behind Casimer.  He jumped, surprised, and turned around.  Granny Velma just raised an eyebrow and chuckled.  “Didn’t mean to startle you, boy!”

            “I was enjoying the song, that’s all.”  Casimer mumbled as he wiped down the counter again.  Granny Velma chuckled and shook her head.  The sleeves of her long, mint green dress were rolled up to her elbows, revealing the wrinkles of age on her arms and hands.  A small silver, gem-less ring rested on her slender, brittle finger, and blue veins were clearly visible beneath the greying skin.  She patted Casimer’s shoulders and pointed to the back of the tavern, directly at Zak’s table.

            “Why don’t you go ahead and see if they want anything, dear.”  She insisted, taking the counter rag from him.  He gulped and nodded, leaving her to the counter while he glided through the tavern, making his way to a table of rebels.

 

 

 

 

            “How have things been on your end?” Zak asked the woman, who tapped the ash off her cigar into an ash tray she had taken out of her brown, bear fur backpack.  She grunted and shrugged, looking around the bar.

            “You’d think they’d be quicker to get a lady a drink…”  She muttered, returning the cigar to her mouth and folding her muscular arms across her chest.  Alld laughed loud enough to shake the table.  His white blonde hair brushed his shoulders as he laughed.

            “I’m sure they’ll be around soon, dear.”

            The woman punched his large bicep.  “I hate when you call me that.”  She said, blowing smoke in his face.  Zak cleared his throat, interrupting the duo.

            “Moving on, perhaps you can answer my question, Alinafe.”  Zak ordered, his voice deep and commanding, despite being the smallest person at the table.  Alinafe raised a black eyebrow at him and chuckled, a grin forming over her teeth.

            “That’s what we like about you, Zak.  You waste no time.”  She placed the remains of the cigar into the ash tray, blowing the remaining smoke from her nose.  “I managed to infiltrate the personal bodyguards to Bayert, the Duke of Zensin.”

            The conversation of the table went silent as footsteps approached them, slow and almost inaudible against the tapestry of sound being painted by the bard, who was just finishing the tragic story of lovers, who both died in gory suicides.  Alinafe glared over her shoulder at Casimer, who had nervously approached the table.  Zak’s expression softened and he smiled at the boy.

            “Can I get you anything?”  He asked the table, his hands resting awkwardly at his sides.  He couldn’t quite figure out whether to put them in his pockets, clench his fists, or just leave them, but he found himself becoming all too aware of his hands.

            “About time,” Alinafe began with a huff, “I’ll have a bottle of your strongest ale, and a venison steak, rare, cooked in butter with garlic and thyme.”

            “That’s my wife, all right!”  Alld roared, shaking the table with his laughter.  It was a laugh so powerful that Casimer could feel it rattle his bones.

            “I wasn’t aware that you were married Alld.” Casimer said with a smile.  “Congratulations.”

            Alld thanked him with a nod, but Alinafe scoffed folding her arms.  “Yeah, we’re married,” she grumbled, “but I’m not taking that stupid surname.  Ice-Breaker.  How idiotic.”

            Rolling his eyes, Alld continued.  “For me, I’ll just have whatever’s on tap.”

            Zak shook his head and waved his hand.  “Nothing for me, thank you.”

            “Alright, I’ll go ahead and get those for you.” Casimer nodded, turning to leave.  He danced across the bar floor and made his way to the kitchen, where Granny Velma was skinning some potatoes.  “Hey, Granny Velma, the woman at the table wants ‘our strongest ale’ and the big man wants some mead from the tap.”

            Her eyes sparkled as she left the kitchen to get the table their drinks.  Meanwhile, Casimer took an iron skillet and placed it on the trivets in the fire.  He then made his way to the basement, where they kept a small cooling chest.  Casimer grabbed a tender venison thigh he had purchased that morning and placed it on a table beside the chest.  Cutting a juicy steak out of the thigh, he put the remaining thigh back into the chest and brought the cut back to the kitchen, where he placed the steak in the skillet, searing it on all sides.  After it was lightly seared, he put a spoonful of butter into the pan, followed by six garlic cloves and three sprigs of thyme.

            Once the steak was finished, Casimer brought the steak out to Alinafe.  When he arrived at the table, a fourth member had joined.  “What are you doing here?” Casimer asked the newcomer.

            Floyde’s ash eyes glanced over Casimer, watching him hand Alinafe the steak, which she immediately dug into.  “Zak and I invited most of these people here.”  He said, waving his hand towards the lively room.  “It took me awhile to get here, sorry.”

            Casimer’s eyes narrowed as he stared around the room.  “What do you mean you ‘invited’ them?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?”  Floyde began with a chuckle.  “These people are here to enjoy the finest that the official bar of the rebellion has to offer.”

            The four at the table stared at Casimer with large smiles on their faces.  Their eyes pierced him like a blade, prying into his soul and leaving him vulnerable.  He stammered to try and respond, but it took him a moment to find his voice.  “G-G-Granny Velma isn’t part of the rebellion!”  He whispered, his voice harsh and shrill.  “I can take the risk myself, but I refuse to let her be a part of this!”

            Zak waved his hand, urging the boy to take a seat, which he slowly and clumsily did.  From the shadows and the mask, the only thing visible about him were his piercing amber eyes, which stared intently into the blues of Casimer’s.

            “I understand why you might be nervous to let a band of rebels make your mother’s bar their base of operations.”

            “She’s not my mother.”  Casimer interrupted.

            “Anyway,” Zak nodded in understanding, “you have nothing to worry about.  No one will need to know that this is a rebel bar, and Velma, er, Miss Foss, will benefit from the coin that we bring.”

            For a long while, Casimer sat at the table, thinking over Zak’s proposition.  His mind was filled with the scent of cigar smoke and alcohol and the sound of the bard’s lively song, although the words were completely lost on the boy.  “Fine.” He eventually decided, his arms crossed.  “You can use this bar as a ‘base of operations’, but I want your word that no matter what happens, the revolution will keep Granny Velma safe.”  His electric blue eyes met Zak’s with a renewed intensity, dropping the passive acceptance of a moment before.

            Zak grinned, only half of it visible from his mask, and nodded.  “You have my word, Casimer.  Granny Velma will receive the greatest, and most vigilant protection we have to offer.”  Casimer nodded and took a breath.  He hadn’t realized that he was holding it. 

            The blonde stood, nodded, and made his way back to the bar.  He felt somewhat lightheaded and he took stumbling steps passed the bard, who smiled at him as she sang a ballad of two shield brothers away at war.  The first felt his arrogance soothed by the second, and the second was most beloved by the first.  The tale struck tragedy, however, when the most beloved was killed in war, sparking a deep rage within the first that would prove his own undoing.  The bard shot Casimer a wink as she finished her tale to the applause of the bar.  He felt his face grow hot as he stumbled his way behind the bar counter.

 

 

 

 

            It didn’t take long for the main keg on the bar counter to run out.  Apologizing to Leif, Casimer took the empty keg into the kitchen.  “This keg’s tapped, Granny Velma.”  Casimer said to Velma, placing the empty keg on the kitchen counter.  It hit the counter with a satisfying, hollow thud.

            “At this rate we’ll have to buy more… Well, more everything!”  Velma said with a laugh, her olive eyes wide with joy.  “The Common Cup hasn’t seen this much business in, gods, years!”

            Casimer gave her a half smile and nodded, taking the empty keg to the basement and grabbing a filled one.  “Hey, Granny Velma, is it okay if we put the lavender mead on tap?” he called from the basement.  He waited for a response, but heard nothing.  “Granny Velma?”

            The kitchen was empty and Casimer couldn’t hear anything from the bar.  He crept out through the double doors to find Granny Velma behind the bar, staring at the Imperial Guard who had just entered the bar.  His maroon uniform was highlighted by a deep maroon helmet which came to a point at the top, which the guard removed, revealing a head of dirty blonde hair trimmed short.  His green-yellow eyes glanced around the room like the eyes of a hawk, searching for its first victim.

            Silence filled the entire inn.  Even the bard had stopped playing, watching the guard, who stared around the room with an ugly sneer on his face, his yellowed teeth bared like a wild animal.  The silence was first broken by Granny Velma, who cleared her throat.

            “Welcome to the Common Cup Inn, sir.”  Velma greeted, a nervous smile painted on her thin, greying lips.  “What can I get you?”  The guard responded with a grunt, moving to the bar counter.  A couple who had been sitting there stood and gave the guard their seats.

            “I’ll have a pint of your finest.”  The guard grunted, his stale breath filling the air before him.  Velma nodded and filled a mug with a keg beneath the counter, handing it to the guard once she had.  The guard took a sip of the foaming brew and sighed, nodding at Velma.

            The silence remained unbroken, outside the odd sips of beer from patrons of the inn.  Not a conversation nor note of song could be heard within the filled bar.  The guard grunted and looked around the bar again, watching all the eyes that had just been on him scatter.

            “Well,” he addressed the crowd, his voice gruff and heavy, “carry on with your conversations!”  He turned back to his drink, gulping it down.

            “Whart’s thish guy doin ‘ere?” Came a lone