Snippet #1780747

City: Vestern
Location: The Bent Sickle Inn
Mood: Nostalgic, Happy, Slightly Intoxicated


Dante stood outside of the Bent Sickle, looking to the sky as the sun began it's final descent. He'd arrived in Vestern just a day before, having made the journey from Jervaise with the only person close enough to be called a friend. The man's name was Samuel; entrepreneur, proprietor of the Cracked Shovel in Jervaise, and trader of any odd or end that ended in profit for him.

What a journey it'd been though, these last few weeks in this strange, new land. Dante had spent the first two days and nights in Jervaise, begging and sleeping in the street. Finally Dante had made his way into the Shovel, desperately needing a beer and some decent food after two days of scraps and water.
Dante sat on the nearest stool, still dressed in the clothes from home and dirty as hell. Sam had been standing a few feet from where he sat, absently whittling at a piece of wood. "Get somethin' fer ya son?" Sam had asked, to which Dante had fished out a handful of copper and silver coins from his pocket. "A beer, or ale, or whatever the hell you've got. And something to eat; again I don't care. As long as it's hot." Dante had started scooting forward the entire pile of money. 'Boy ain't from around here, to be sure..' Sam thought to himself, as he plucked a few coppers and a silver coin from the pile. The coppers would buy him a big mug and plate, the silver would buy him a bath and a room. By Samuel's assessment, the boy could use all of it.
"Aye, keep the rest of your coin son. This isn't the 'Inn on the Palace Garden', to be sure! But you look lost, and by the gods ya stink like the pens." Samuel handed him his beer and a room key. "Take your time, I'll have some bath water ready for ya in about a half hour. Give ya enough time ta get somethin' in your belly first." Dante just looked back and forth between him, the mug, the pile of money, and all around. "Thanks.." Dante said quietly as he put the rest of the coin back into his pocket.
As Dante looked up at the man again though, he saw him grinning from ear to ear. "What?" Dante asked, trying to hold down the sound of irritation starting to rise. The man was being kind to him after all, obviously not allowing him to over-spend on anything. Dante knew that everyone around him knew he was a foreigner, to say the least. The fact that he'd been lucky enough to not fall victim because of that thus far was a miracle.
Samuel responded, "Aye, not to be rude, but where the hell are you from? I can't say I've ever witnessed such dress as you've got, and the way you speak sounds very foreign.. I'd venture to say that, you're a very far way away from home, aye?" Dante just took a long pull off his mug, and after swallowing said, "Yep.. Or, aye, as you say." Sam grinned and said, "Haha, well that's a start."
Just then, a shout was heard from the back, and Sam turned around. "A plate's ready for ya. Let's get ya fixed up there lad."
That night, Dante was fed and bathed, with a decent bed to sleep in. Of course, it was no Tempur Pedic or anything of the sort; a simple straw mattress with a wool blanket, and some kind of animal skin on top of that. But it sure beat the cold stones of a street underneath him, and Dante slept better than he had in years.
The next morning, Dante arose and found that the chest he'd stored his clothes in was empty. Standing in nothing but a pair of socks and boxers, Dante was quickly becoming agitated. Before he could voice his irritation with a string of swears though, he spotted folded clothes on a chair sitting next to a small wash basin. A note had been left in the bowl, and it read, 'Some clothes that won't make ye look like a sore thumb. Holler for washing water. -Sam' Dante sat the note down, then unfolded and examined the clothes. Some pants, a few shirts of varying sizes, a pair of boots, all he'd need to be fully dressed as a 'local'. Dante pulled the pants on and tied the drawstring, then opened the door and called for water.
A young lady, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen, came striding up the stairs with a pitcher of warm, steamy water a minute later. She wasn't ugly, but her smile was a bit crooked and her brown hair had many split ends and looked like a wreck. Even though she'd obviously tried with pulling it up into a bun of some kind. 'Such is life without dentists, stylists, and conditioner I guess..' Dante thought to himself, smiling and thanking the girl. "Mister Sam said to have ye come on dow' when ye're up. Anything else I can bring ye?" she asked, slightly nervous of the foreigner but eager to serve. "No, but thanks hon." Dante responded, smiling and then shutting the door as she gave a slight bow and made her way off.
After cleaning up and fully dressing, Dante made his way downstairs to find Sam sitting at one of the dining room tables. He was reading a small book, with a pipe in his free hand. He sat across the table from Samuel, at which time Sam put down his book. Sam could see Dante looking back and forth at the pipe, and offered it to him along with a small wooden figurine. It was of a dragon. "Stroke the back of the ol' wyrm's head. Beats a boring ol' match, to be sure!" Sam said with a grin. Dante did as he bade, and was astounded when a small, gentle stream of flame spouted from the figurine's open mouth. He lit the pipe, taking a pull of the contents. He sputtered a bit, but didn't make a fool of himself. The herbs tasted of a mostly tobacco, although very strong tobacco taste; but there was another hint of flavor that Dante couldn't recognize. But of course, this being somewhere 'far from home', it made sense that things wouldn't be the same. Not even the tobacco.
Sam couldn't help but chuckle as Dante sputtered a bit. "What's that called?" Dante asked. Sam replied, "Called Dragon's Hair by most." Dante smiled, saying simply, "Back home, we have something that tastes alot like that. Called tobacco." "Toe-back-oh?" Sam inquired slowly, after which both of them laughed a bit. "Aye, well you're a long ways from home laddie... That's to be sure."

It was from that day forward that things had been alright for Dante. Sam had agreed to give him a job helping around the Inn, in exchange for a place to stay and a reduced wage. He'd schooled Dante so to speak, in the mornings and late nights when others weren't about to interrupt. Dante obtained a understanding of the money, what city he was in, a feel for the current events; nearly any question he could've had, was answered by Sam.
When Dante finally asked him, "Why do you help me? Why did you take me in?" Sam replied simply, "Because son, I'm supposed to." He refused to go into further detail in his reasoning.

Which brings us to the now. Sam had been speaking of a festival or fair happening in a city a ways away. Vestern, where Sam's cousin Marcus lived. Sam had scored himself a coveted merchant reservation for the fair, where he'd set up a stall and sell food and drink to the crowds of the festival. With a place to stay with Marcus at the Bent Sickle, and nothing but profit to be made from going to Vestern, Sam had offered to take Dante with him. "I could use the help anyways, loading and unloading that damned wagon. Besides, be good for you to stretch your legs beyond Jervaise.. And I'm not as young and fit as I'd like to say, so if there's trouble on the road I'll need someone more able bodied than I to be at my back."
Dante agreed to go with him. He had been saving his wages and the tips he occasionally got, and took his earnings and purchased equipment. It was a hodge-podge of varying types, styles, and grades of equipment; but it would do for now. A iron dagger and a short mace for weapons, with cloth armor and a chain-mail vest for body cover. The rest of the money was used to buy various random things and some basic survival gear, should he get separated from Samuel along the journey. Or for when he might need them in the future.
The trip was quite uneventful, except for when they'd gotten a wheel stuck crossing through the mountain range. No bandits, no giants or tree people from Lord of the Rings, nothing. Sometimes, Dante didn't know what to make of this world. It was all like a crazy fantasy book come to life. But he wasn't being harassed by figures in dark cloaks, or being robbed by bandits on every stretch of country highway.
It was just like, a normal life.. Aside from the setting, of course.

So much in so little time. So many thoughts in but one man's head. Dante wasn't sure of everything still, but he was enjoying this new place. This new life. He had started shifting his thinking from, 'This'll be a cool vacation, a cool story for when I figure out how to get back.' to, 'I could get used to this..'

"Ah, fuck it.." Dante mumbled to himself, putting his small pipe back into one of his belt's many little holding pouches. He strode back into the Sickle through the side door, making his way through the kitchen back to the main hall of the Inn. It was in a bigger building than the Broken Shovel, and was very evident from the main hall. A dozen tables with four to six chairs each, along with benches and the bar to seat customers. A large hearth, with a stage at the far end of the room. It was a pretty packed house tonight, more people coming into Vestern daily for the coming festival.
"Excuse me, 'scuse me.." Dante said, as he made his way through the crowd to where Sam, Marcus, and a couple of their old friends sat at one of the tables. They'd been teaching Dante some card games, with Dante making mostly a miserable attempt at victory. But it being a friendly game, he didn't get too upset when he kept losing. They gave him a hard time for it, but they took it just as well when Dante let out a shout of victory when his hand was sound. "'Ey there youngin'!" Sam cried out as Dante sat down once again. A fresh round had just been brought, and Dante grabbed the mug that was at his place. "Hey old-school!" Dante cried back, clapping him on the shoulder. Sam liked that monicker of Dante's, 'Old-School'. It was funny; things he'd said on a daily basis back home, were completely new sayings and words in this place. It made Dante obviously different, but that much more endearing to the people he'd met thus far.
Dante jumped right into the small talk taking place, and also began shuffling the cards idly.