The Ruins that Remain

{3} The Coronation

Ileane Sloane Aldine POV:

"I would have asked that you bathe before talking to me as you stink but I don't want to be at the end of your sword" The Traders says as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Good of you to acknowledge that," I state and sit my bloody ass on the seat opposite him. His coat, made of rich, deep burgundy velvet, was tailored with intricate embroidery that spoke of a bygone era. Golden buttons adorned the front, glinting softly in the flickering candlelight of the dimly lit pub. The fabric, though aged, still retained a regal sheen, hinting at its former glory.

Beneath the coat, a ruffled white cravat adorned his neck, a symbol of both refinement and the passage of time. His linen shirt, once pristine, bore the subtle stains and wear of years of use. The cuffs, elegantly folded back, revealed weathered hands that had navigated the turbulent seas of trade and commerce.

A tricorn hat rested on the table, its wide brim casting a shadow over his weathered face. His eyes, sharp and observant, held the wisdom of countless market dealings and economic endeavours. Strands of silver threaded through his once-dark hair, which cascaded in loose waves around his shoulders, further testament to the years that had elapsed.

In his hand, he cradled a delicate crystal goblet, the contents within catching the candlelight and casting an amber glow upon the trader's face. The aroma of aged whiskey mingled with the faint scent of parchment and ink, creating an olfactory tapestry that encapsulated the essence of a. As he took a measured sip, the trader's gaze met mine, offering a glimpse into the depths of experience and the echoes of an era long past.

"What can I help you with, girl?" He queries.

"Any news on the royal family of Deserta and the kingdom itself after the incident?" I plead; I don't want to add much that might make him wary of me.

"I need something in exchange for my knowledge." He taps the table softly.

"I only have a few coins with me" I pull out a red velvet bag and place it on the table, I slide it towards the man and add, "I won't be able to get any more coins or give anything else for the information," I say sternly. The only way to scare a man is to exert your dominance, although I think he has the upper hand with his elegance and the hold of the information I need.

"This will do for the information you need." He takes the bag and places it next to his hat. "The Royals fled north with the royal guards. I don't know what lies north or what they seek. Deserta itself is in a mess. Most of the citizens are dead or have fled, where to, I have no idea." His information isn't enough to help me understand what happened but it's good.

"Does anyone know how the enemies entered Deserta?" I pry some more, I overpaid for such little information.

"No clue, you have to go investigate yourself if you want that information." He swirls his last bit of whiskey and swallows it in one go.

"Did the King announce anything before fleeing?"

"If he were to announce something, you would have heard it if you were fleeing." The trader looked bored but added "Nothing interesting. He promised safety for the citizens and death for the enemies."

"Thank you." I stand up and push my chair back in, gotta act like a lady in some ways.

I nod to the barmaid and head for the door, I need food, water and a bath. Some rest would be wise before I decide what next to do. Stepping out from the dimly lit pub, the cool night air wraps around me like a comforting shroud. The sounds of revelry echo behind, fading into the quietude of the sleeping village. I find myself standing on cobblestone streets, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, under the pale glow of the moon.