Wardenheart

Tavern

It felt like an eternity since I had last felt the warmth of a fire, the omnipresent, gentle compression of clothing, and the taste of meat. For this moment in time, all of my troubles seemed further away than usual, but I still could not forget what had happened, nor could I stop thinking about her.

The tavern, alive with the sound of boisterous chatter and laughter, was just how I remembered them being before the contract, before the wizard had made the new world. All around me were people of all lifestyles and professions. A group of warriors clad in plate sat next to a bespectacled, scholarly looking, wildly gesturing man of many years. They seemed to be listening attentively to what was probably his treatise or rant about an esoteric subject put clumsily in to layman's terms. Elsewhere, a masked woman moved through the sea-like crowd, a mandolin strung across her back.

Taverns, despite their reputation for fighting and gambling, I always felt was the place where true peace was always achieved. With a mug of mead in one hand and a leg of mutton in the other, instead of blade or bow.

Speaking of the mutton, the flavors, when I thought about them, were like nothing I had ever experienced. When I got past the point of ripping in to it like a starving wolf (which, save for the species, was not far off of the truth of the matter), I let my taste buds experience the sensations properly. The meat was done medium, with copious amounts of deliciously succulent juices being released from their tender prison with every bite. I detected a blend of strong added flavors as well. Peppers, onions, and perhaps a wine marinade. A wave of nostalgia washed over me along with the comfort of the hot meal.

I remembered it like it was yesterday, the final feast at the final ceremony. So many years had I put in to becoming a wizard, so many lonely days and nights of breaking through the boundaries of man and beast to become more, to see more, to touch more, than most people could ever dream of. So many expenses, so many choices to make. Did I want to affect the mind or the body? Did I want to stay healthy and in shape, or did I want to devote all of my life to studying until the eventual burnout? Did I want to interfere with those stronger than me, or did I want to confront injustice where I saw it, even if it could mean expulsion? Would I continue working until my life slipped away from me, or pursue my own dreams?

Joran's Arcane Academy for the Gifted was my first arena, the first new world I was hurled in to in which I felt lost and alone, and it would not be my last. Life, as I had begun to understand it, was a series of places in time, areas in life in which one must fight different battles than the last, sometimes harder, sometimes easier, but the goal was always to look back at your old battles with a smile, knowing that now you could take them on with ease, and to not look back upon a weaker self with disdain, but with compassion for a person who is no longer you. This world, I knew, would be another of these arenas in which I had to fight, the prize being freedom, and hopefully a simpler life away from chaos with the woman I love.

"Hey, scrag, you alright? You're looking kinda intense." Jolly asked, sipping a mug of some fizzing alcoholic drink.

"I have merely been thinking." I replied.

"What about?" Jolly returned.

"Life." I replied simply. "How it is something like a series of trials, each one different than the last, molding you in to a different person."

"You're a philosopher, now?" Jolly replied, smirking. "We've plenty of those. See that man with the spectacles over there?" He jerked a thumb behind him toward the scholar surrounded by the intently listening warriors. "His name is Gannily. Used to be a professor, I heard. You should talk to 'im, seems like a decent fellow. Helps us out a lot around here, actually. You might be able to put some bits of knowledge you picked up in wizard school to good use around here, actually."

Hark sighed and then sipped a mug of ale deeply. Then he slammed it down and shot Jolly a harsh look.

"The hell's your problem, Hark?" Jolly asked.

"The greenhouse is my problem." He replied. "How are we gonna keep complaining about not having enough food for the winter when we now have enough, well..." Hark motioned to me in a not-so-subtle manner, and I got the impression he was speaking about my mark. "People like him to now secure the thing?"

"Hark, he just got here." Jolly said. "We don't even know if he can wield a sword, and for the gods' sakes, keep your voice down."

"Afraid the Searchers will hear us?" Hark asked with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, actually lowering his voice as Jolly had commanded, especially when saying the word 'Searchers'. Hark had tried to keep a veneer on of confidence, but nervousness was now filling his voice very quickly. "Have you seen any?"

Jolly shook his head but the look on his face was still of quiet concern. Whoever or whatever the Searchers were, they were apparently not to be trifled with.

Jolly swallowed and then spoke quietly.

"Tomorrow, we'll look at the greenhouse again, we'll see what we can do." He said to Hark. "But just getting to the gates..."

"Don't y'all get to worryin' 'bout that, hear?" Thelma said sternly, finally speaking up. "Sure, he's new, that's gonna mean he needs t' settle in 'n learn, let 'im at least get a night's sleep afore sendin' him off to scav, hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." They both said. I got the impression that I had just listened to a rather large grouping of concepts I had yet to grasp, but it sounded like, come morning, I would be thrown in to this new world, but properly this time.

Author's Note: Wow, chapter 10 already! Thank you all for your continued support, it's really great to see you coming back :D Make sure to vote and leave your feedback in the comments below. Thanks!