The Tale Teller

Ch 20

 Approaching The Vixen's Inn, Vaun tucked his shaking hands into his cloak. He knew Branoff wasn't blind; if he saw Vaun's nerves he'd be sure to comment on them. It was best to ignore them, for perhaps then they might disappear. It was a foolish hope, but without hope, what else had Vaun left?

The closer he got, he could see the first noticeable change. A broken window. It was the one to the right of the door, boarded up with planks that ruined the quint picture the Inn usually painted.

Soly's window box lay smashed on the ground, soil scattered across the cobbles. Unless it had happened in the night, it was odd for Celise to have not yet cleaned it up. It wasn't a good sign. Vaun felt his stomach twist with dread.

He let Branoff knock on the door before pushing down the handle and letting it swing open. It was dark inside, but from the smoke coming from the chimney outside, they knew someone was home.

The fire was small, but immediately Vaun could smell the bread cooking in the pan that swang above it. It was unusual for Celise to cook on this fire instead of the ovens in the back room, but when fuel supplies were becoming low, it was understandable.

The inn was quiet, empty, with the stools tucked beneath the tables and not a person in sight. Vaun didn't feel alone though, he felt home.

A soft humming joined a set of footsteps, moving from the back room out to the front of the inn. Vaun peered through the darkness, a tough task when the number of windows were now halved, only to see a somewhat familiar figure.

The whore.

He couldn't remember her name but he remembered seeing her the last time he had been here with her swishing skirts and seductive smiles. With the guards around, Vaun was surprised she was still alive never mind here.

She stopped with a light gasp upon noticing him and Branoff, before waving a hand as if to call them towards her. "Close that door, will you? You'll bring in a chill, and we wouldn't want that now, hm?" The silky tone was heavy, something else Vaun wasn't expecting in the current times.

Approaching, he saw the smirk on her lips, the lowered lids. They soon lifted as her focus turned from Branoff to Vaun though, and her lips dropped before falling slack.

"You."

"You remember me." 

"How could I forget?" She swung one hip out to the side, a hand falling onto it. A scowl now painted her pretty features. "How dare you come here? Why are you even here, hm?"

"I wish to see Celise."

"Well, it shall be Celise's call."

"Of course." She paused at that, clearly not expecting Vaun to be so respectful.

She quickly got over it though, rising a finger to point right at his chest. "She's fool enough to still love you, you know. Don't dare hurt her. Do, and you'll have me to deal with." The hand on the hip dropped to grab at the skirt of her dress. The fabric was bunched up in her fist before rose to reveal the dagger strapped to the outside of her stocking. It shone in the firelight, and how all daggers now did, it reminded Vaun of the one the merchant's guards had held to his throat. To some, it may be an empty threat, to him, he wasn't going to chance it. This girl had as much spark in her as any, and he didn't doubt the weight behind her words.

As her skirts dropped and she spun on her heel, storming into the back, Branoff let out a low whistle. "I knew there was more to this girl ye weren't tellin'. She loves ye, eh?"

"It's between Celise and me."

"Still, what did ye do to make this lass so against ye?"

"Nothing I can speak of without being dragged through the streets." Branoff's eyes widened before he mouthed the name of the very town they had witnessed that happen in. Vaun didn't need to answer, not with words or a change in his expression, Branoff knew, and he grinned knowingly.