TFT Chapter 2

Here's Chapter 2. If you read it the last time it was here, it is relatively unchanged, but it is much shorter now. The whole fairy scene is now chapter 3. Enjoy Chapter 2!

Life in Sprewt was roughly the same every day. With the exception of the occasional dragon attack, wizard battle, knight competition, and (as of late) kidnapped princess, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened there. Sprewt was located just outside of the city of Garemath and happened to be the last place to stop before reaching the capital. The locals had enough contempt for each other and had even less patience for the numerous travelers who stopped there daily on their way to Garemath. Unless of course the travelers planned on spending money there.
The income from all the travelers provided the small town with the money it needed to keep it looking as nice as it did. The town square had a beautiful stone fountain and the facades of the surrounding businesses looked equally magnificent. The most frequented establishment in the square was Degaulington’s Den. The Den was the kind of tavern that most every traveler would visit simply to say they were there. Once known as The Iron Shackle, the name changed along with the rising prosperity of the town.
There were other interesting shops in town as well. One shop sold walking sticks, another shop sold magical items like charms, potions, and everyday items with added magical “enhancements.” A witch’s shop right next to the walking stick shop offered to put a spell on a recently purchased walking stick giving it your choice of powers. There was a blacksmith who seemed more interested in selling weapons like swords, shields, and axes, than items people would consider to be more practical like horseshoes and chain links.
Sprewt was a place that had everything it needed thanks to the generous income from the people who passed through it every single day. Traffic was particularly high lately due to the influx of knights and would-be heroes on the way to Garemath to inquire about rescuing the missing princess. The locals acted upset and burdened by the extra outsiders while the shopkeepers of course, loved each traveler to pass through.
A woman stood sweeping the walkway to her porch. Hers was the farthest house from the center of town, and the first one a wayward traveler would see upon officially entering the limits. She hated them. She hated every last one of them, but the man who was currently passing caused her extra disgust. He was a younger fellow, dirty, riding a brown horse that looked like it hadn’t eaten in weeks. His armor did not match. He wore a chain mail that was slightly rusted with tattered leather gauntlets. His weathered pants were covered at the thighs by rusty armor plating. She wondered if he had anything on him that had been purchased within the last five years.
His sword though... His sword actually did look new, but it was the only thing. It absolutely gleamed next to the rusted armor and tattered clothes he wore. Even his shield showed some rust. It was dented too, and the blue diamond that had been painted on it was badly scratched. But there was one other thing he seemed to have with him that actually caused her to stop sweeping.
A cat, fatter than any she had ever seen, was seemingly following alongside his horse. It looked like a small keg with paws. He stopped at the end of her walk when he noticed her staring at him, then at the cat, then back at him.
“Needs the exercise,” he said, and continued on. Nose turned up, the woman simply shook her head and went back to sweeping. He received similar looks from everyone else he passed along the road before reaching the center of town. The dirt road eventually turned to cobblestones. The houses began to have less space between them. The dirty looks became more frequent and he knew he was nearly there.
The houses lining the roadsides gave way to small shops. Then larger shops. Eventually the road opened into the town square. Immediately to the right was Degaulington’s Den. The knight tied his horse in front of the tavern. The cat leapt up onto the railing of the tavern’s porch. He slipped and scratched with his hind claws a little before gaining his footing and perching himself on the railing.
“Please stay here. We don’t want any more trouble like the last town. I’m going for a drink and to find a place to stay for the night, and then I will buy you a dinner so big you can’t finish,” he said to the cat, who simply stared at him blindly.
“Eh! No trouble. Just stay here,” he repeated. “Are you paying attention to me? Here,” he pointed to the exact spot the cat was sitting, before walking through the tavern’s front door. It was a much larger place than it looked from the outside. The room was wide and deep with at least ten large round tables, most of which were full. It was dimly lit and there was music playing, though it was not certain where it was coming from.
There was the typical mix of tavern patrons. Traveling minstrels, knights, salesman, wizards, thieves, and drunks to name a few. Several men turned their heads and stared as he walked to the bar and sat down. He actually didn’t look that out of place as many of the men drinking there were far dirtier than he was. However, knights were revered as noble men. The do-gooders of the world. The fact that he was dirty, unshaven and wearing armor that was mismatched and rusted was enough to raise an eyebrow or two.
The bartender made his way over and asked “What can I…” he flinched when he looked up at who he was serving. “What can Ah getchu?”
“A pint of ale… and some answers,” he smiled at the bartender. The bartender looked him up and down.
“The pint costs a silver coin. The answers… ‘ll cost you three.”
“They’re not particularly difficult questions. More… directions.”
“Directions will cost you four.”
He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as he thought up a new approach.
“What do you say to a gold coin? And you give me an ale and all the answers I want?” he smiled again, slamming a gold coin onto the bar.
“Where ya headed?” the bartender smiled back.
“Garemath. I need the quickest route to the castle.”
“Ahh… Off to rescue the princess are ya?”
“How’d you guess?”
“It’s just that ever since she went missin’ we’ve seen more knights, wizards, and wannabe heroes in here’n usual. An’ this place ain’t known fer its heroes. Ah can’t imagine any o’ them’re in it ta be a hero anyway. She’s one ah tha most evil, vile creatures ta ever be spawned from the depths o’ ‘ell. If not for tha ‘uge reward, I doubt no one would risk five minutes to save ‘er,” said the bartender starting to ramble a little bit.
“She sounds charming.”
“Ahh anythin’ but. There were jokes that there should be a reward to not rescue ‘er. ‘Course people would be more than willin’ ta not rescue ‘er for free!” The bartender laughed loudly, slapping the bar.
“That’s… that’s just wonderful. Listen, how do I get to the castle quicker than anyone else?”
“Well,” the bartender started. “The quickest way’d be through Wanton Woods. Not the smartest way, mind you. But the quickest for sure.”
“Wanton Woods. Why doesn’t everyone go that way?”
“Not from around here are yeh?”
“I’m from Ethoumath. Eastern Garemath.”
“Ah yes. Been there a few times in mah younger days.”
“The forest. Why doesn’t everyone go through it?”
“They would,” The bartender continued. “If anyone knew how ta get through it. Trouble’s no one does. Everyone who goes’n there always comes right back out tha way they went in lookin’ all confused an’ such. Ah’m telling ya that forest is cursed. It shifts and changes, ya think yer goin’ right ahead… but somewhere along the way, yer goin’ wrong. The trees… they lie,” said the bartender.
“The trees.”
“Aye, they lie!” he repeated. That’s why we all call ‘em the lyin’ woods. Even though really it’s Wanton Woods.
“Lying trees. I’ll have to deal with dishonest plant life. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been lied to. First time by shrubbery of course, but not the first time altogether. Is there no one who knows a way through?”
“Well you could ask a fairy… but good luck gettin’ one o’ them ta cooperate with ya.”
“Ech… no. No fairies. I hate fairies. Loathe them, really. They are awful, vile little creatures best kept in corked bottles and shaken vigorously while laughing.”
“Aye. Ah rather agree with ya there. Bothersome li’l pixies. For now the best ah can tell ya is turn right along tha river, then turn left and cross it followin’ ‘long the mountains. A’ tha fork ‘n tha river, follow it northwest. It’ll take ya ‘round the forest, across the bridge and straight to Garemath,” said the bartender gesturing with his hands.
“But that is the way everyone is going. And it is my intention to get there days before everyone and thus have a head start in beginning the search for evil old…. Princess Whatsername.”
“So when ya do rescue ‘er, Ah can say ‘at you began yer journey right here from that very stool. Ah can say… eh… What’s yer name?”
“Sir Michael Graves, at your…”
“Michael Graves! Started ‘is journey from this very spot! Now lemme getcha that ale!” said the bartender, turning and walking down the bar. Graves picked up the gold coin that was still on the bar. He flipped it, caught it, and put it back in his pocket as he headed for the door. “Sir Michael Graves,” he said to himself.
He emerged into the daylight to find his cat right where he was supposed to be. “Argyle, you’ve surprised me. For once I asked you to stay put and you actually…” He stopped talking as Argyle licked his chops.
“Wait a minute. What did you eat?”
The cat just stared at him.
“You ate something and you’d better tell me what before some old woman comes running up trying to beat one of us with a broomstick like the last time.”
Argyle just looked at him.
“Come on, we can’t go through this again. We just got here and we don’t hve a place to stay the night yet. Please don’t get us into trouble!”
“THERE HE IS!” he heard from the other side of the square.
He sighed. “Right on schedule. Time to go,” said Graves, smiling devilishly.
“THAT CAT STOLE THREE OF MY FISH AND I WANT MY SILVER COINS!” screamed a woman, now in the center of the square. She was pointing at Argyle and holding a rake. Or a broom. Maybe a mop. It didn’t matter. Graves grabbed Argyle under his left arm and in one motion, drew his sword, turned to the railing his horse was tied to. He swung at the rope, cutting it and freeing the horse. He sheathed the sword and jumped over the railing landing directly on the horses back. He grabbed the reigns and rode off toward the forest, kicking up dust behind him while the old woman shou
ted in the distance.
After running at full speed up the road for a little while, Graves slowed his horse to a trot and then to slow, easy walking. He dropped Argyle to the ground, who cried loudly before looking angrily up at Graves.
“Don’t look at me like that! All you had to do was wait not ten minutes! And we’d both be fed. But no, you’ve fed yourself and now not only have I got nothing to eat but we also have nowhere to stay. Can you think with anything but that stomach of yours, Fatso? I mean really, what do you suggest we do now?”
Argyle just looked at him blankly, still angry for being dropped.
“I’ll bet if I wanted to know where to have a good piece of fish around here you’d have a few suggestions. Paunchy, feline lummox…” Graves droned on. But it was no use. Cats don’t understand English and nothing changed the fact that they were on their own for the night.
“The sun hasn’t gone down yet. We’ll get to the forest and camp for the night before going in. I’ll eat what little food we have left. Then we’ll have a full day’s light to find our way through. That should help us combat those lying trees… or whatever that great oaf was talking about,” said Graves as if his cat could understand him.
The road out looked quite similar to the road in. The farther they got from town, the less they saw. The shops that lined the street had more space between them before giving way to small houses. Cobblestones gave way to dirt, which led to a huge open field. The dirt road continued through the field and there was nothing but trees on the horizon. They didn’t look… dishonest.