The Ones They Called

The Tavern - Njör

     Patrons sat wall to wall, tables pushed close together with one of the many different bards chirping a tune that resonated with drunk and coherent alike. Njör felt complacent, he couldn't care what the celebration was for. He was an outsider and didn't have the drive to create long lasting friendships. He sat at a stool and patiently waited for his drink to be delivered, he had no rush, his journey had come to an end. Thankfully he didn't have to bounce his leg in anticipation as the kindly woman placed the tankard in front of his hands.
     "What brings you to our cozy little town? You are carrying more than a usual traveler carries," She gestured lightly to his sword strapped to his back before she started the grueling task of cleaning a mug out with a small hand towel.
     "Ah," he waved one had away and took a sip from his brew, "it's dangerous on the roads I travel. I'd rather keep iron on hand than risk a hold up."
     "You seem tired lad. Been traveling long? We got a few rooms upstairs we sell to those looking for a bed to rest in for a night or two. Doesn't take but a few copper coins. I keep the covers clean myself," she offered, placing down the newly cleaned container before moving on to the next. Njör shifted his head to the side with a quick smirk. Pulling out a few damaged copper coins he dropped the asked amount in the tenders hand. "Motherly instinct comes in handy when you run a tavern. Here is the key, third room on the right."
     "Thank you, here is the rest for the drink," Njör placed a few more pieces of metal on the countertop.
"If you need anything just call down for Lorea, I'll take care of you sweetheart." A mutual wave from both signaled the sudden end to the conversation. Njör stood from the stool to head upstairs. His boots scuffed against the soft wooden planks. Just as told the third door on the right yielded to the key.
     The room was miniscule but cozy. Decorated to look like a small wooden cabin you'd come across periodically on journey. As the door closed he let the straps fall from his shoulder. His swords hilt clattered against the floor. He kicked off his boots and removed his gloves, tossing onto the bed. Against the wall sat a large mirror that showed the skinny, scarred boy that stood before it. Looking past himself, he watched as a shadow on the wall deformed itself, from it crawled the image of another body. His face calmed, a relief washed over the room as from the shadow stepped forward another man draped in black shrouds and cloth.
     "I expect the task set forth was dealt with accordingly?" They asked, the low toned voice was distorted and disturbing. Gruff and coarse like gravel.
     "Without issue," Njör continued to remove his armor without making direct eye contact, moving past the other man as if he wasn't there.
     "Perfection. I expect you know what comes next?"
     "Of course, as we agreed upon. I trust they won't be harmed?"
     "Our contract was very clear. I will keep to my word as long as you do as we discussed," the dark one walked from where he first appeared toward the mirror, placing a disheveled hand against it's sheen reflection before turning his head toward the younger man, "you remember, do you not?"
     "How could I possibly forget?" He scoffed at the outlandish suggestion of miss placing the thought. Left in just his underclothes he turned and actually looked to the cloaked man. "If you be so kind I have, "unfinished," business to attend to and I wish to do them in peace."
     "Of course, how rude of me. Do you have any letters you'd wish for me to send beforehand?"
     "I have yet to prepare one. There is no need to anymore."
     "I see. I shall leave you to yourself. It has been honoring work with you," he bowed a bit before heading back towards a shadowed area of the room.
     "I find that unlikely," Njör watched as he stepped through, disappearing into the endless black against the wall.
     With final preparations complete he took a seat on the bed, moving his gauntlets to the side before pulling a small filled paper out of the small pouch, followed by a smaller corked bottle with the glass tinted a sickly green. Tucking it underneath the covers  he popped the cork off. A quick gulp was it. He placed the bottle down and laid on the bed. Adjusting to be comfortable in his final moments as his eyes faded into a white haze. The last things he thought was the regret he held within. And then there was nothing.