The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (the lemonade war series txt) 📗

Ulam nodded, satisfied. “How come there are so few men in here, though? It is hard for me to imagine the men of this city leaving these women unmolested.”

“Oh, they try, friend, they certainly try,” the barkeep continued with a smile. “I have my own personal guards, paid handsomely by me to ensure the women-folk aren’t disturbed. The head of the castle’s guards, a man by the name of Jalkett Karraman comes here from time to time, he and I go way back. On first offense, depending on the offense of course, you get thrown out.”

“What about the second offense?” Ulam asked.

The barkeep smiled, a gold tooth reflecting the flame from a nearby lamp. “There’s never been a second offense. I’m guessing my employees handle it how they best see fit. Also, that reminds me,” he nodded towards Amantius, “you might want to watch your friend. He seems harmless enough, but I’d really hate to have to throw you two out. Especially since I don’t figure either of you have anywhere to go.”

Ulam turned and saw Amantius talking to a few women at a table, though thankfully neither lady seemed to be offended. For a few seconds, he watched them chat, feeling relief when smiles appeared. He was not surprised, for Amantius had always been quite the charmer when he wanted to be. Still, he thought it was best to keep an eye on him. Even though his foster-brother still had not finished his first drink, there was always the possibility he would make a fool of himself anyhow, and Ulam did not want to be thrown out of the only friendly tavern in all of Silverwater.

“I do not think you will need to worry about him,” Ulam replied as he finished the last drops in his bottle. He put a few coins on the counter, “Another one, please.”

The barkeep smiled as he swiped the coins from the bar and placed another bottle of ale in front of him. “I thought you only had enough for one drink each? Are you going to let him know that?”

Ulam smiled. “What he does not know will not hurt him.”

The barkeep laughed and continued cleaning the bar as Ulam drank, enjoying this moment to himself. Since they left Accaria he and Amantius had been nearly inseparable, a moment of peace an incredibly rare gift. Because he always had to be on the lookout for trouble, he had not had the opportunity to let his guard down and relax. However, in that moment, he was able to finally find some sense of inner harmony.

As Ulam finished his second beer a man approached and sat down next to him at the bar. He ordered two beers, placing the second in front of Ulam. He was roughly two decades older than the Orc, with soft, brown hair that touched his shoulders and sandpaper stubble across his face. Though he was well-built, from the corner of his eye Ulam saw the man had a limp, no doubt an injury he had sustained years ago.

“My thanks,” Ulam said as he grabbed the bottle.

“Don’t mention it,” the man replied. His voice was strong, full of authority. “What’s your name, Orc?”

“Ulam.”

“Ulam, what?”

“Just Ulam.”

The man did not appear satisfied with the answer. “You’re not from a Sanctuary are you?”

“No,” Ulam replied. He had read about Orc Sanctuaries before, little societies Orcs built after their kingdom was destroyed, usually far in the wilderness where no one else could not find them. He always assumed he was born in one, though how he came to Accaria as an infant was still a mystery.

The man adjusted himself in the seat and took a swig of beer. “I guess it doesn’t matter, you’re still an Orc regardless of where you were born. Anyway, word spreads fast around here. Someone mentioned something to me about seeing an Orc in Silverwater, and then told me this story about how the Orc picked a man up by the throat and held him there without breaking a sweat.”

Ulam tried to grunt, but no noise came from his throat. He was ashamed, even a little scared. The anger he felt inside, the fury, felt so natural to him. Even worse, a part of him even liked the sensation, and that was what truly terrified him.

“Some would call you a monster, a child-eater even,” the man continued, “I don’t care what they call you, or what you are.” Ulam shot him a quick look, the rage building inside once again.

The man held up his calloused hands, “I’m not here to judge. I’ve met plenty of Orcs in my life and have never seen such a thing. Hell, most Orcs are better than the Humans I’ve met. Have you been trained in combat?”

“No,” Ulam replied, the anger subsiding. He took comfort in knowing this stranger was not here to start another brawl.

During this time Amantius approached and looked at the empty bottles in front of Ulam, punching the Orc in the shoulder. “We can only have one bottle each, Amantius,” he said, mimicking Ulam’s voice the best he could. “Either you lied or you simply don’t know how to count. Who is your friend?”

“Forgive me,” the man said as he extended his hand, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jalkett Karraman, I’m the Captain of the Castle Guard. I am oath-bound to protect Aldamar III, Count of Silverwater County. And you are?”

“Amantius Jeranus,” Amantius replied, shaking Captain Karraman’s hand. “What business do you have with us?”

“Your friend is strong, very strong indeed, and Silverwater’s guard ranks are bare. Especially now, what with the Mad Raven terrorizing local farms and villages.”

“Mad Raven?” Amantius asked as he quickly glanced at Ulam.

“Haven’t heard of her, yet?” Karraman said as he swallowed some ale, “Well, you lads haven’t been in the city for long. I’m sure you’ve at least