On The Summoninge Of Entitae Malefic (How Not To Do It)
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Tristifan Comeuppence stared longingly (and hopefully) at mugs the barkeep was washing out. She was having none of it.
When Tristifan had heard that the King's Scale inn- the most prosperous inn the town of Vicham sported- had hired a woman to work the bar (replacing the old inkeeper, who had quite a case of gout, and preferred drinking his ales to pouring them in any case), he had rather hoped for a blushing young lass he could court for free beer. He was dissapointed. Gemla was a stout, broad-shouldered woman with a permanent scowl and a truncheon to match. She had not responded well to his loving importunings, and his hand still ached.
"Eheha, Tristefan!"
The slim youth turned in suprise. It was the innkeeper, and he was seating himself on the bench opposite himself. "Goodman Varn, it's good to see you're well!"
"More well than you, looks like. I see you finally had to sell that stupid oversized knife." The inkeeper snorted, and waved toward Gemla. "Two ales, Gemmy. I've got to douse the fire in my joints."
Gemla approached, and carefully deposited two mugs on the table. As Tristefan reached for one, Varn slapped his wrist. "Bah! Who said that was for you, lad? I've got a powerful thirst!" The old man peered at Tristefan's reddening face, then chuckled and waved at it. "Hah! Nay, it's yours, boyo. Tell me, though, are times really so hard for you? I see that your clothes are a bit ragged, but haven't you even a copper lion for a quart?"
Tristefan sighed. "Times are worse than that, I'm afraid. I've got debts. Almost two crown's worth."
Varn's eyes widened, and he spluttered. "Oh, you stupid lad! You tried to gamble? Your father must be turning in his grave, bless his soul! Listen, lad, I know a way out of it for ye."
"Oh?" Tristefan asked, not with a great deal of hope.
"Aye. I'd best be going, but... ye can read, right? Over on the door. Man came in, only today. It's an offer, lad, and in writing, so the magistrate would judge for ye, I think. Go have a look." The little inkeeper slipped off the bench, wincing at his gout, and tottered off.
For some time, Tristefan sat, brooding. The ale was gone in the space of a minute, but he stared thoughtfully at the other bench for a while longer. Then he hopped off the bench himself and walked over to the door, to inspect the notice.
To all ye men of stout and good disposition, and womenfolk also..
'Workers of Odd Jobs required at Winstrom Vale. Bedding and Stables availible free for workers, and meals provided thrice daily. Take on these honorable tasks, and you shall have memories certain to last all your days, and wealth as well. One gold half crown to be distributed daily, and also one silver lion of hazard salary for dangerous work. Please apply with Lord Winhab at Winstrom Manor.
Tristefan began preparations that very day.
