NOVEL NEXT Chapter Forty-Two: The Misplaced Inn
Autumn winced as she bumped against the side of the wagon for the umpteenth time. Every time it rode over a rock or divot in the road, it’d throw her and the others about rather violently inside the cramped interior. The roads became much worse ever since they’d left Everwatch behind; easily catching the wheels in the deep mud. And the further they traveled up the northeast road towards the flooded coast, the heavier the rains pounded down upon them.
Already the lashing downpour threatened to puncture their leather protection.
According to Autumn’s map, the next stop on their journey was the Misplaced Inn, situated right on top of a T-junction. The oddly named inn sat right on the border of the rainforests and the farmlands. It wasn’t a far distance to travel even with the roads the way they were; perhaps a day’s travel if they were lucky.
Hopefully, there’d be enough rooms to shelter the convoy for the night. She hadn’t got much rest last night as nightmares and shaking had plagued both her and Pyre.
Autumn focused her wandering attention back on her task.
For the better part of the chilly morning, she’d occupied herself with helping Pyre grind up a series of herbs into a mushy concoction. The crushed plants emitted an aromatic smell which was far more pleasant than the musk of unwashed adventurers and the lingering iron of blood.
She’d kill for a hot shower right now.
On the plus side, Autumn had her warm robes back. Pyre had changed into a spare dress early in the morning. But unfortunately, given the state of Autumn's abused magical abilities, they couldn't magically fix her ruined dress. However, Autumn had a fresh sewing kit tucked away in her bag that she’d brought way back in Duskfields. She’d intended to use it in her blackcraft, but helping her friend was a good use of it.
At the moment, she was helping Pyre by running a stone pestle around a mortar. The fairly monotonous task provoked Autumn to seek ways to entertain herself, such as humming to herself under her breath.
Many moons ago, she once sang in that enchanting Noctua language and shocked herself by not being tone deaf. Ever since then, she’d had a hunch that whatever allowed her to understand the languages of this world had a broader definition of what exactly constituted a ‘language’.
Thus, she was testing it.
Autumn softly murmured a few bars from one of her favorite songs and the near perfect rendition proved her right. The only flaws came from her still sore throat, hitching every so often. A far cry from her usual caterwauling.
If music was a language all on its own, what else was?
“Won’t you drag the lake and bring me home again.”
Pyre’s hands paused in her own tedious work.
“That’s not Common.”
The tune Autumn sang halted. Raising her black eyes, she met with the bright dancing ones across the ground up herbs. Secrets and promises flashed by in an instant.
“No. I suppose it’s not.”
Pyre ducked her head back down.
“It sounded nice, whatever that song was. Could you sing it for me in Infernal? Even I find grinding up herbs rather boring.”
A shy and tiny relieved smile grace the corners of Autumn’s lips.
“Sure, but I can’t guarantee it’ll translate properly.”
Autumn began softly singing to her audience of one.
“What doesn't kill you
Makes you wish you were dead…”
The herbal concoction tasted like wet grass.
Autumn grimaced as she continued to chew on it.
This rather unpleasant mixture had the properties of improving one’s resistance to blood-borne diseases; something she needed after ingesting known sources of blood yesterday. It reassured her to know this world, or at least this nation, knew something about medicine.
It still tasted awful.
In return for her aid, both today and yesterday, Autumn translated her tome’s recipes for the alchemist’s perusal. However, most of the recipes required witchcraft to make, like the healing cream. But Pyre didn’t care about that; just knowing what ingredients achieve certain effects was a major boon towards the creation and improvement of potions.
Autumn was happy for the girl.
Just as the frosty night began climbing onto the far horizon, they arrived at the Misplaced Inn.
A vast curtain of water poured off of an umbrella-like forcefield sitting high above the roundabout-looking junction; only a corridor for the roads was clear of the deluge. Directly beneath it was a spike-topped wall ringing the outside edges that looked to be molded from a single piece of stone. Rather than bearing any gatehouse, each entrance housed twin towers of coiling copper that were sparkling and crackling with menacing violet lightning.
Autumn’s hair literally stood on end as she passed beneath the watchful gaze of the lightning throwers.
The Inn itself was no less strange than its protections.
Glowing mage lights dotted an amalgamation of many inns and taverns of vastly different styles: wooden, stone, clay, and even concrete buildings stacked upon each other in an odd harmony. Iron chains drifted and clinked together in the wind as they held onto floating gardens of vegetables, flowers, and even a few fruit trees. Crooked pillars haphazardly supported and connected all the disparate elements and overhanging balconies.
Autumn gawked up at the peculiar building.
“Pfff. Your face looks so stupid right now.”
Liddie laughed at Autumn.
“Leave off of her. Let’s just get inside.” Nethlia reprimanded the pirate.
Autumn glared after the smirking pirate as they headed around to a stable beside the Inn. Once they’d unlimbered their Agoroth Kira and stored their wagon away, they headed inside.
A fantastical sight greeted them as they entered.
The inn’s interior stretched out farther than the outside suggested, filled with floors of balconies and parlors. Long dragon-like mage lights gracefully swam through the air above, casting a gentle glow down to illuminate the diners. The tables and chairs stood on a truly opulent floor; cobblestones of gleaming white, connected by gold sand. Even with its grand size the inn was still packed with a myriad of patrons, far more than there should be in such a remote area of the province. Most of them were of races Autumn had seen before, but a not insignificant portion were of strange, almost alien folks.
Dancing between the crowded tables with an inhuman grace were autonomous servers: porcelain golems of androgynous humanoid forms. Some bore multiple arms laden with trays of wondrous foods, others rolled along on tall, thin wheels or even floated on arcane winds as they patrolled in servitude. Autumn saw several spinning their limbs, head, and entire torso 360 degrees without issue.
To their side was a bar and reception, behind which the proprietor awaited them.
A great snowy-white beard hung from an elderly human’s face. Twinkling eyes gazed out from under bushy white eyebrows and a classic blue wizard’s hat, dotted with stitched on white stars.
Seeing them approach, he loudly cleared his throat and spoke out in a wizened voice.
“Greetings and welcome to the Misplaced Inn. My name is…is…well I don’t quite recall? No matter. For some of you, this is your first time here. There’s no need to tell me. I’ve a mind like a steel trap; never forget a face. Now…what was I saying?”
He paused and stroked his beard in thought.
“Oh yes! The rules. Well…they’re more like warnings or guidelines. Rule number one: be wary of the doors; they don’t take you where you think they will. I’ve tried to convince them to do their jobs properly, but the best I could manage was to keep the front door where it was and not allow others into bedrooms they’re not keyed to.”
Autumn blinked as she took in the deluge.
“Rule number two: uhh…hang on. Rule two? What was it again?”
The wizard hummed.
“Oh right! The keys. Ahem, One person to one room. No funny business! This ain’t that kind of establishment! Only the person keyed to the bedroom may enter it. Rule number three: There is a considerable amount of entertainment and workshop spaces hidden somewhere in this place. If you can find them, you can use them; see rule one. And finally, rule number three: money up front! 10 gold per person per day!”
Most of the party were shocked by that price, only Liddie and Nethlia seemed to expect it.
“10 gold!” Autumn spoke out.
The wizard drew himself up.
“Rest assured, the price is well worth it! It’s an ‘all inclusive’ price, made that term up by myself, you know? This is unlimited food and drinks, a room, and you can use whatever supplies you find in the workshops. I’d suggest the alchemy room for the young alchemist. Last I saw, it was on the second floor, somewhere. I’d also recommend a Mage’s Repose, that’s a drink; it’ll help soothe those damaged channels you’ve got.”
Autumn grumbled as she fished out her coin pouch. Even by her limited understanding of this empire’s economy, she knew this was an absurd price. As if to confirm her thoughts, Pyre tugged ashamedly on Autumn’s sleeve. Looking over, she saw pitiful eyes and a hollow purse.
Sighing, she paid for them both.
Nethlia gave the group a wane smile.
“We’ll cover this as a party expense. Ah shit, I mean shoot, we didn’t assign someone to keep track of that, did we?”
“I’ll do it!” Liddie volunteered.
Blank looks were cast at the party’s rogue before eyes shifted to Autumn.
“I can do it. I’m already keeping track of my own expenses anyway. Just tell me later what consumables you use: potions, runes, damaged equipment, etc. and their price.”
The wizard gave an impatient cough.
“All paid up? Good, go find a seat or something. I’ll send a server your way with a menu.”
Shooed off by the ancient wizard, the party picked their way through the crowds to one of the few free tables. As soon as they sat down, crystal glasses filled with differing beverages teleported onto their tables in a puff of glittering smoke. The one before Autumn was unmistakingly familiar to her; the dark liquid bubbling and popping.
Taking a desperate sip confirmed what she hoped: it was cola.
“So, what did you think of the inn’s notorious proprietor?” Nethlia asked with a curious smile.
Autumn reluctantly gazed up from her drink.
“Umm. It surprised me to see another human here, but I suppose an elderly wizard can go where they please, right?”
Pyre looked confused as Autumn described the inn-keeper.
“He? Are you still concussed or something? That was clearly an elven woman. Did you not see her curves and pointed ears?”
It was Autumn’s turn to be confused and a little annoyed.
“Haha, very funny, but I think I can tell the difference between an old human man and an elven woman.”
Nethlia chuckled and drew both of their ire. Nelva and Edwyn looked somewhat confused as well.
“There’s no need to quarrel. It’s just another one of this inn’s quirks. Nobody is sure how it works and the owner isn’t telling, but everybody sees someone different. It’s not just looks but personality and temperament too. We are all lucky; I’ve heard that someone got a fireball in the face for taking too long paying, but that could just be a rumor.”
“Wait, so every time we come here we’ll meet someone new?” Nelva asked.
“No, it only happens the first time you arrive. After that, they’ll stay the same for you. I see a ten-year-old elven boy running the place. It’s certainly a strange sight to see.”
The conversation stalled when a lithe golem rolled up to their table. A blank human-like mask stared with glowing eyes as it deposited menus onto the table. They were blank. Before Autumn could ask the obvious question the server answered it for her.
“Statement: Honored Guests. Please place your hand upon: The Menu of Desire.”
When Autumn did so words started appearing as if written by an invisible quill. Soon it was filled with any and every dish Autumn wanted: burgers, pizzas, pies, stir-fries, sushi, and many more. Tears welled up in her eyes as the memories of home thundered into her mind.
“All inclusive they said?”
“Affirmative Answer: That is correct. Honored Guest. Order as much as you like.”
Autumn selected everything. Far more than what she could eat alone. She turned her eyes to her companions browsing their own menus.
“Would you like to try food from my home? I promise they're really good.”
Surprise flickered across the other’s eyes for a fraction of a second. Grins of merriment began sprouting up around the table.
“Sure. Gin we're eatin food from yer home, let's also share our own. Prepare yerself for the finest cuisine from the under-mountains.”
Before long the table was filled to bursting with food, drinks, and well-deserved laughter.
