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Chapter 1: Face Off in the City of Hope

A clear morning, birds chirping over the white stones of the city streets of Avignon. Merchant's were busy setting their stands, the sounds of wood against wood could be heard for a distance around the calm Market Square. The smells of flowers and spice filled the air as stores began their preparation for the day, ready to welcome many an oncoming guest with appetizing bread, and delicious sweetmeats. And in the swing of this morning, the rhythm of clattering jewelry and other such things, an elf swayed in an alleyway and groaned.

"Oooooh...." he moaned as he put his head against the cold stone wall of the Inn he could not remember if he was staying at. His hands weakly felt the pockets of his longcoat, and then felt along the strap that lead to his book. Everything, for the moment was accounted for. Even this wicked hangover.

The elf, Bardus, hiccuped, and made a pained noise. Vowing silently to himself to never drink that much again. And smiling when he realised that vow might very well break before the end of the day. He was thirsty already, but more for water, and less for the drink. Still he did not want to move, and alas, did not move, from the alleyway while the rest of the world sprung to life around him.

Bardus' response was to face her and open his mouth in one long, low, burp. He even had enough time to hold one finger up towards the elf while he did so, an indication for her to wait until after the current event.

What smell from his mouth washed over her he would never know, but he could imagine it was something between honey, brine, and pure, strong alcohol. What a gentleman.

"Ah," he said, "Excuse me." his voice wavered and took him with it.

A bell tolled off in the distance, but to him it sounded as though it was right above him. He squeezed his eyelids together and furrowed his brow. "Ma'am," he paused and blinked at her, trying to focus, "if you are a ma'am," he continued, "what?"

Hangovers.

He narrowed his eyes at her, in the wobbly hearing provided by the drink, he only heard half of what she said. Bardus was amused, mostly because to him, it sounded like she complimented his demeanor, and it was hard to find a woman, outside of concubines, that would tolerate such nonsense.

He put his arm around her in a gesture of camaraderie, if she liked his burping, she'd love where he was taking her next; she wanted a place to eat, and he knew where to go.

"Why, there's places to eat all over here, everywhere. You can eat everywhere." his brain's fog disallowed any clear reasoning. So he was thinking about eating people, places, and things. If it was a noun it could go in your mouth.

"Everywhere." He attempted to shuffle her away with him with his arm loosely draped over her.

They tromped along through the crowd, past the marketplace, and through the streets until they stopped in front of what looked to be an abandoned building. There were boards on the windows and the door, but the ones over the door were broken. The people in the area wore poor clothing, and dirt. The entire district looked as though it had been washed with a Lord's chamberpot and smelled like cattle.

It wasn't the happiest of places Bardus had sauntered the unwilling elf into, but it was about to get a little better. He shuffled both of them up to the door of the house and knocked twice and then paused, then twice again. An assortment of clicks and clatters could be heard behind the door and it gave way into what looked like a rather normal, albeit filled with books, interior of what could be considered a bar. There was the scent of spices and cooked meats as well as fine smokes and literature. It sounded as if the kitchen was beginning lunch preparations.

There were very few people there, but it was still early morning and the day had yet to begin. What few there were looked as though they worked there, but for a small group of gentlemen sharing tea.

One of the workers, the human bartender, made an exclamation towards the couple. "Bardus! Looking a little worse for the wear eh? I told you them slogpits in the marketplace would give you quite the knacker. Why don't you find your room and wash up?" the bartender turned his jovial gaze to the horrified woman as Bardus mumbled something about bubbles and vinegar and slipped out of the room to take the bartender's advice.

"Now then, young lady, what misfortune happen by you Bardus?" said the man, his handling of the elvish language made his syntax rather clunky, "You seemed to hold up the lad. Might you be hungry?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow, "Bardus? No, he was celebrating, I can't remember what. Afraid I was having a row with me friends at the time." The bartender grinned and pointed to a bruise on his arm, "That's where my friend Cadigan punched me, I swear that b*****d loves to start a fight." He laughed and then paused, "What's it you want to eat miss? We've breakfast just now, right old time for a good sausage pastry." He patted his stomach at the thought.

"Also, a drink, what would you have?"

The bartender, who we'll now call Gerard, went to go tell the kitchen the elf's order. Somewhat a connoisseur, Gerard selected a nice spiced wine to compliment the sausage pastry, and served it to her so she could drink while she waited.

"Now Bardus, I would not know, he's only been in town for a few days, and I met him yesterday. I would say, if I had t'guess, that he is a happy man, mage type who carries his book around, you've seen his big book on a strap haven't you? What do they call'em...." He trailed off and one of the gentlemen who had become bored of his colleague's conversation and was eavesdropping on their piped in, "I do believe 'lorekeeper' is the term you're looking for Gerard."

The bartender's face lit in content, "yes, that's it, lorekeeper."

Gerard put his hands on his rather shapely sides (for a bartender that was, he was neither fat nor skinny, but somewhere in between) and smiled, I could tell you all about this place though. I'll give you the short version; a mage made it as a place for his study, he could get to it anywhere in the city of Avignon, and when he passed other mages kept it and turned it into a sort of hideaway where they would go to share a drink not amongst the common folk. It expanded until it became what you see today, we have a kitchen, wine cellar, and even rooms to let! We're a regular inn I'd say."

He patted his stomach again as he leaned back on the counter behind him.

"Well, apart from knowing the magic everyone knows," Gerard scratched his head, "I've got a bit of sleight of hand, and maybe I'm a little gifted with ice magic, but nothing that would make me a mage. I just work here because I can keep a secret and serve well." He said as he did just that, placing the sausage pastry, complete with an extra, in front of her. The plate had slid out of a little slot on the top of the counter.

"Ah, it seems you get one on the house." He smiled at the elf.