Chains of Fate

Chapter Nine

Kyle made for the South by boat. A three-day voyage landed him in a harbor not far from his destination. Upon arrival, he made for the market to replenish his food supply. It consisted of a series of colorful stalls set up in and around the village. Local men and women haggled with regular customers and showed off the catch of the day to draw in newcomers. Among the goods being sold were baskets of dried fruit, fresh fruit, handmade trinkets and tools, jewelry, fabrics, and fresh caught fish. It was to one of these many stalls that Kyle wandered over to. He took his time eyeing the neatly arranged halibut and wriggling eel beside it, a crate of snapper fish, and half empty barrel of crab. It was late afternoon and the market lively as ever. Kyle had a nice chat with a seasoned fisherman, who attempted to send him off with a live octopus, after beating the heads of two cod fish. He learned that the weather was turning and the ice fishing season drawing near.

Kyle bought a sizable cod for the road, as well as a new set of hunting knives to replace his old one, with its rusted hilt. He never could resist the smaller hand weapons, being partial to close range encounters with his enemies. Besides that, they were easy to carry around and about as handy as a sturdy pair of deerskin boots. Kyle tucked them inside his belt and headed for the village tavern.

Teetering on the edge of a giant sea cliff was a small, homely inn. The outside was painted a deep red, similar to the color of fresh blood. It was just after sunset. The clouds were moving in single file across the sky. Stars twinkled like little lights, illuminating his path. Kyle pushed through the entryway of the tavern with his cod in hand. His belly alerted him to his need for a hefty meal. A robust man with a receding hair line greeted him at the door. He grinned from ear-to-ear and offered to cook the fish. Kyle relinquished his purchase to the owner, then paid up front for a single room with a window overlooking the cliff. Afterwards, he sauntered over to the bar and ordered a mug of the tavern's best liquor. The drink was complimentary. What it lacked in sophistication, it made up for in taste.

The place was cozy; and to his surprise, not crowded. There were a few others besides himself taking advantage of the open bar. Two foreign men sat face to face at a table towards the back of the room. They were deep in conversation. Kyle watched them for some time. Peeking out from underneath their weather worn clocks was the seal of the army, emblazoned in yellow gold. There was nothing strange about running into the militia. They were everywhere in Aisha, frequenting taverns like mice. Kyle hated how they always chose to sit two to a table, pretending to keep to themselves. Across the room were two more. All four were likely part of the same group.

Kyle took occasional sips from his mug, still watching them. Then a raucous of laughter sounded from the table to his left. An odd gathering of men were having a ball over a game of Devil's Pit. A growing pile of money waited in the center of the table, to be claimed by the victor. Kyle wasn't a fan of gambling, but he had an itch to join in the fun. Tavern talk was anything but civil. The men who took part in such games were exactly the kind he needed to be in touch with.

Halfway into the game's tenth round, his mug felt lighter in his hands. Kyle looked inside it. A refill was in order. Turning back to the bar, he handed over his mug and waited. A fresh drink was presented to him, along with a sizzling sample of cod glazed in honey. Foam expanded from the top of his mug, inches away from spilling over. Kyle sipped from the mouth and licked his lips. He relished the cool liquid sliding down his throat. Then he tuned back into the card game, wondering which man had taken the lead.

A dark skinned man in a wool felt beret stood out from the rest. He was flushed from the neck up. If his arrogant smug was any indication, Kyle guessed that he was several points ahead of his opponents. Devil's Pit was a common tavern game. Originating in the North, it had been inspired by a primitive form of competitive sword play, wherein duelists battled each other for the title of Knight. To the victor of ten battles, a grand award was given - typically jewels, gold, or other hard won treasures. The loser would be thrown into a pit and left to the ridicule of the audience. Lost to antiquity, such violent games no longer existed. Their legacy had lived on, however, and continued to influence the lower class.