John Adavahr's Story

It had hardly been half a day since John had returned to the city. After what he heard happened to his family all he could do as he walked around the city was look over his shoulder and attempt to stay away from the guards. The armor and cloak he wore would allow him to avoid showing everyone exactly who he was but it wouldn’t keep him safe if they found out. His uncle was the leader of the resistance and it was very recently that him, along with the rest of John’s family were slaughtered by the queen’s men. From the sound of it his uncle had found a way to kill the current tyrannical queen however the Adavahr family paid a horrendous price. From everything he could find out he was the last survivor of the Adavahr name. He wondered what he should do now.

As he used stealth to get around the city, he looked around for any large groupings of guards that would cause him too much trouble. John could take a couple guards but if they called for backup he would be overwhelmed quickly. In truth he wasn’t even sure the guards knew to look for him, but it was better for him to be careful then locked up or worse. He looked down at his sword at his waist,
“I’ll die before I let them take me.” He said resolutely.
He wondered what to do next. As John continued down the street past the main plaza in the center of town he looked over his shoulder one last time to make sure he wasn’t being followed. To the best of his knowledge there was no one there. About twenty feet in front of him was an inn he had known since he was little. John debated whether it was a good idea to go in or if it would be too dangerous. It was beginning to turn dark out, and the tavern part was getting livelier. Due to how tired he was getting he shrugged off his suspicion. As he opened the large wooden door of the inn with a loud creak he could hear boisterous laughter of the patrons. He almost thought his entrance into the inn would make more of a commotion, but his fears were unfounded. He took a quick glance around the tavern and conveniently the front desk was near the door. He walked over to the innkeeper which was clearly preoccupied thumbing through a large leather-bound book. The man was a bit large with unkempt hair and a small pencil goatee. John cleared his throat to get the man’s attention.

“Ah-hmm.” John said as to get the man’s attention.
“Yes?” The man said without even looking up from the book.
“I’d like a room for the night.” He said putting ten gold coins on the table.
Without looking up the innkeeper took the coins and put them in a pouch behind the counter.
“Name?” He said.
Luckily, he had thought of a name to use before he attempted this transaction.
“John Lightheart.” He said without hesitation.
The innkeeper wrote something in his book and handed the knight a key.
“Room 13, up the stairs to the right. It’ll be on your left,” He said, finally looking at John.
John took the key and went straight to his room. He wasn’t sure if the innkeeper knew who he was but there wasn’t much he could do about it, he couldn’t go back home now. His house was still in tatters and his father’s blood still lay on the floor. He opened the door to room 13 and walked over to the oil lamp on the table. John lit the lamp and set it down, then went back to the door. He shut and locked the old wooden door, took his pack from over his shoulder and set it on the floor. John took off his sword belt and placed it in arms reach of the bed. He was so tired, and he would have a very dangerous thing he had to do tomorrow. As soon as his body hit the bed he passed out, not even caring enough to take his armor off.