Path of Their Own Ch. 01

Everyone was all smiles, especially Felyn as she counted more holes in her target than Petra's. A proud smirk broke through on Flak's bearded face as he observed the results of his thorough instruction.

"How's everyone doing? Ready for more?" he asked, looking at the Tree Elf in particular. "Not so bad, eh?"

Petra and Feyln nodded in firm, even eager agreement, but knew who he was really talking to.

Celia blushed but nodded as well. "Practice, less fear...um, not bad, enjoyed it."

Galen was smiling as the Sergeant nodded. "Good! Reload."

His students swapped the empty magazines from their weapons with fresh ones from their webbing. When everyone was ready, he said, "On your own time with your remaining ammunition, go on."

.....................

The light of the setting sun poured through the shutters of the Ricton's local inn and tavern and lit the interior of the wooden building with a brilliant, orange glow. The young, fair-skinned woman standing alone amongst the tables sighed as she finished wiping down the last mess left over from her previous customers. She had to use some vigor to get a dried stew stain off the tabletop before wiping the sweat from her brow after a job well done.

Stuffing her cleaning rag into the apron hanging off the front of her pale, blue dress, she returned to the bar to stash away what earnings she obtained this afternoon. Pulling a key from the black bun loosely tied around her nape, she knelt down and unlocked the strong box anchored to the floor under the counter. The pitiful collection of coins inside the iron coffer was a depressing sight but there was little she could do about it. Creditors had to be paid whether she could afford to or not.

Her best hope at this point was to try and have a profitable evening. A few gold coins at the least so she could afford to pay her evening assistants and keep her food stores stocked through to the next eve. Just a few more travelers passing through town looking for a room could make all the difference to her right now. It would certainly make her feel better as she locked her strong box and returned the key to her hair.

As if on cue, the front door opened and she almost jumped. Two men walked into her tavern and shut the door behind them. Quickly wiping her light, blue eyes to ensure there were no tears in them to betray her, she put on her cheeriest smile and stood up from behind the bar.

"Welcome to the Slizzed Stag, I am Rose. What can I do ya for?" she asked, leaning against the bar.

The two men looked to her, the one in the green and black-striped shirt cocking an eyebrow at her whereas the one in all green clothes just smiled. Both of them had military looks about them with the manner in which they walked. Light foot falls, straight backs, their shoulders squared at all times. The one in the striped shirt, between his black, thickening beard and powerful blue eyes, definitely seemed more the more "hardened" of the two compared to his younger, brown-haired friend who barely had a layer of stubble over his cheeks.

"Evenin', ma'am. How much for a room?" that younger one asked in a most peculiar accent.

"Three silvers a night," she answered with a bit of glee. "That gets you a room and a bed. Five silvers for a room with two beds, fifteen coppers a person get you a hot meal come mornin.'"

The young man nodded as his grizzled friend cast an appreciative smile in her direction. Rose returned the gesture, but then averted her eyes and focused on the man who was talking with her. He had approached the bar and pulled a gold coin from his pocket. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it when he slid it across the counter to her, speaking in that funny charm of his.

"Two rooms, one with two beds, the other with just one. Got three more friends comin' in and we're feelin' pretty hungry so if the kitchen is still open, we'd appreciate a good meal."

She blinked in astonishment, but then quickly nodded as her faux smile brightened into a natural one. "Of course! I'll get you your room keys, your change, then get started on your supper. Do you have any room preference, mister...?"

"He's Galen, I'm Flak," the tough with the black hair introduced. "I was hoping to have that single room away from the stairs, with a view of the street outside if I could. And preferably keep that double room as far away from it as possible."

She passed this "Flak" a questioning look, but then Galen nodded in agreement. "What he said."

"Alright then, just a moment," she muttered, taking the coin off the counter and grabbing a pair of keys from a rack under the bar.

With two room keys in hand, she circled around the bar and led the men up a set of stairs that ran up the wall opposite the front door. On the second floor, she continued on down a balcony above her bar past three doors to a fourth one at the end. Opening the lock, she led Flak inside and tapped a helmet-sized piece of glass hanging in the middle of the ceiling. The ornament lit up with an appreciable amount of light, illuminating the bed against the wall opposite the door along with the trunk beside it. There was a desk against an adjacent wall as well, along with a stove in the corner.

"Good feather and wool stuffed mattress and warm blankets, trunk in the corner, tap the torch glass once to light, once to dim, again to put it out. Questions, Mister Flak?"

He looked at the amenities and shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"Then I'll show your friend his room. Enjoy your stay, Mister Flak."

She left him his key on the desk and headed back onto the balcony over the main room where Galen was. Seeing her step out of the room, he moved aside and motioned for her to lead the way. Giving her guest a polite bow of the head, she led him back to the stairs and went up another level. After taking a short hallway that returned them to the top balcony over the bar, she brought him to one of the two doors on the floor.

Opening the door closest to the stairs, she led Galen into a much more spacious room with two queen-sized beds and a sizable stove between them. Each bed had a pair of trunks beside it, and that same "torch glass" mounted to the wall above them. There was also a table in the center of the room with four chairs surrounding it.

"Is this room to your liking?" Rose asked, and Galen quickly nodded.

"It's perfect. Now, the other three that are still comin', they aren't exactly... Human. That's not an issue, is it?"

The barmaid quirked her head at him with a questioning look. "Why would that be a problem? Only guests I don't allow are Drakians that can't control their tails and men who can't control their liquor. Which reminds me, the mining folk usually end their shifts around sunset so it can get busy here in the eve. If any drunkards give you issues, then just remember that there's no fighting in the bar. Take it outside."

Galen almost chuckled, "Not a problem, ma'am. Now baths and latrines, where are they?"

Rose pointed to the bottom floor of the tavern, to a door in the corner that led out back. "Outhouse is in the rear. There's none of that fancy plumbing, but it serves its purpose. If you need a bath, let me know and I'll draw up the water in a washroom beside the kitchen. It's thirty coppers for a warm tub."

Thinking about how happy his group would likely be at the aspect of a warm bath, the soldier replied, "Again, not a problem. Keep the change for that gold coin for now, if you serve drinks then I think my friend and I might run be running up a tab."

"Of course," she said while bowing her head. "Thank you, Mister Galen."

...

Stepping out from the tavern, the two soldiers looked around the dirt street of Ricton with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. The town fit the medieval Europe theme just as the city of Redding had, except here there were more houses made of brick and stone than lumber and clay. That and there were no actively patrolling guards here, just modestly dressed men and women going about their evenings and preparing for that cool mountain wind that blew over the area at night.

According to Pretayus' notes, the Tree Elf he had sold here had gone to a "Baron" and the man in charge of the town was known as "Baron Sloss." Going by title alone, that narrowed it down. All they had to do was find where he lived.

"I have the magic that lets me sense people nearby, I'll wander around town and see if I can find a trace of the Tree Elf," Galen said, turning to Flak as he kept scanning the buildings around him.

"I'll go get the girls from the stables. One hour, be back here. Give me my AK."

The weapon and its ammunition appeared in the paratrooper's outstretched hand, and Flak quickly threw it all on over his shoulders. Racking the action to chamber a round, he set the selector to safe and gave his fellow soldier a nod.

"Remember, one hour. Stay out of trouble, Galen."

The Private nodded and the two split up heading different directions down the street. Rather than wander blindly however, Galen went straight for the center of town. The western part of Ricton where they'd chosen to stay was a lower class area. Cramped housing, poorly clothed people, no patrolling done by anyone that looked to be part of a local guard or militia. It seemed the perfect place to hide away.

Just a few blocks to the east however, the dirt roads quickly turned to cobblestone. People were wearing higher quality clothes and houses started looking like they were in much better repair. Many buildings started containing glass in their windows rather than them being covered by shutters. Glass was a sign of wealth, and wealth usually gathered in one aristocratic center. When he came to an open area that he figured to be the Ricton town square, he finally found what he had been looking for.

There was a two-and-a-half story log house complete with a balcony circling the entire second floor on the south end of the square. The whole place was twice the size of any other in town with two men wearing chain mail and carrying swords stood guard at the front door. Several windows throughout the place were lit with shadows shifting across the drapes to show movement inside. Just looking at the small mansion had Galen shaking his head as he started walking toward it.

That has to be the place. First Fretheim, now Sloss. One rich asshole to the next. At least he's not expecting us, and at least he doesn't have a fenced-in yard.

Few people were gathered around the square at this late hour. With the sun nearly set, most had already gone home though a few were still mingling around the fountain in the middle of the area. Not wanting to attract much attention beyond what his uniform would already, Galen perused the fronts of the closed stores around the square. He took his time to window shop through all the displays until he found one place close to Sloss' house that was still open. Hoping to avoid the attention of anyone who may have been watching, he stepped inside what he quickly found out to be a general goods store.

Behind the counter was an old man with barely a few silver hairs left atop his head wearing a beige apron over his white shirt. He was counting out the coins in a strong box when the door with the jingling bell on it drew his attention. Quickly finishing his count, he locked up his earnings and moved the box down to the floor before squinting past a fat nose at his new customer.

"What can I do yer fer, young feller?" he wheezed.

Looking around at the goods for sale, Galen asked, "Do you have any maps of Astiko available here? Or large tents?"

Thinking back to the chilly nights they had crossing the Marching Hills, he definitely wanted more coverage from the elements than what one pup-tent, the wagon cover, and a blanket could provide. Thinking to how cold he got and how Celia stayed wrapped up almost the entire way, he added, "And cloaks as well, going to need a few of those."

The shopkeeper frowned at him before he moved to the end of his counter and knelt down to sift through a cupboard. "I got paper maps fer ten silver a piece, or a board o' cartography fer thir'y gold."

"Board of cartography?" Galen repeated.

The old man lifted a flat of wood from under his counter and motioned him over. The board was a half-inch thick and a foot square made of maple or some other smoothly sanded hardwood. With the shopkeeper saying the word "Ricton" to it, its surface shimmered with a map of the town and an "X" right over the shop.

"High Elf made these a long time ago. Any map yous ever seen, jus' say its name an' touch th' board. If yer on it, it'll mark ya like it did here. If nay, then it jus' shows th' map."

Galen blinked and looked at the enchanted device in bewilderment. Even when the old man let the board go, it still showed the map of town in detail. When he touched it though, he discovered the image would shift with his finger to allow him to explore it until he reached the edge of the map the shopkeeper had seen. Whispering the word "Atzla" under his breath brought up a perfect copy of the Willher's map of the forest in miniaturized detail. It even put the X over Ricton.

Just out of curiosity, Galen then whispered "Vietnam," and though the board hesitated, it brought up a map of the south-east Asian country. But no mark came up on it to indicate where he was. When he whispered "Earth," it showed a copy of world map he'd seen of his planet. Again it had that same lack of an indicated location.

With a sigh escaping him, Galen looked to the shopkeeper and asked, "How much?"

"Rare magic item. Thir'y gold," the old man said sternly.

"How long has it been sittin' here?" the trooper questioned, unwilling to fork over that kind of money as he noted the dust on the board. The old man went tight-lipped, prompting another question. "What's wrong with it that nobody wants it?"

The old timer grumbled, "The... enchantment needs a magic user to charge it for a zetran af'er every twen'y zetrans o' use."

"Is that it?" Galen pressed. "Is there something better I can get? Cheaper, maybe?"

The door's bell jingled with it opening and another voice interrupted, "You could save yourself a load of money and purchase a Map of the Eagle."

Galen turned as a younger man stepped through the door, one not much older than him. His clothes were much finer than what the other people in town wore, with a red-silk shirt, black trousers and smooth, felt boots. His black hair was drawn into a small tail at his nape and his face was clean shaven with an obnoxious amount of cologne permeating the air as he approached them with confidence. It was a wonder to Galen how his intense blue eyes managed not to water when he leaned on the store's counter and grinned at the soldier.

"Map of the Eagle?" Galen repeated, trying not to breathe too much. "Who are you?"

"Ahh, forgive me." The man gracefully bowed his upper-body as he said, "Manning Sloss, son of the Baron."

"Galen Martin," the Private answered courteously, returning the bow.

"A pleasure, Mister Martin. I run a shop across the square and try to save people from wasting money on this old swindler's cartography board. If you pay ten gold for it, you're paying double what he did to get it from the caravan."

Eyebrows rising, Galen glanced to the old man, whose face was slowly going red from the potato-like protrusion of his nose to the top of his freckled head. The Private suspected he was getting the truth from the junior Sloss when the shop owner didn't even try to protest.

Turning his attention back to Manning, he asked, "So what's the Map of the Eagle?"

The sly man grinned, "Simple, really. The same man who created those boards turned it into a larger, foldable, parchment map. Touch it to any other map and it will remember all its details, and it when desired, it will show a map of your immediate area as though through the eyes of a watching eagle."

Hanging his head in defeat, the old man tucked his board away under his counter.

Continuing on with his sales pitch, Manning was almost boastful as he added, "And one doesn't need to bother a wizarding type to charge it. You can get two zetrans of use from it, then it 'sleeps' for twelve until it is ready again. All for twelve gold pieces."

"Ten," Galen corrected.

"Sold." He pushed himself off the counter and offered his hand, which Galen gladly shook. "Come by my shop in the morning, I will have it ready and take your payment then."

Almost as an afterthought, the soldier asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find some cloaks an' tents, would you?"

"Of course! Come."

He led Galen out of the general store into the crisp evening air, the old man swiftly moving to lock the door behind the both of them. Standing in the middle of the town square, Manning pointed to a small store on the northern end of the area opposite from the big house.

"There is where you shall find what you seek. A little lady owns that store and she has all your tailoring needs. For adventure gear," he turned and pointed to another store on the east-side of the area. "See the gnome that works there in the morning. My store is next-door on the right and I can make sure you get a fair deal."

"That's mighty appreciated," Galen said, grateful for both the hospitality and the breeze that was clearing the air of his cologne.

"Not a problem," Manning replied, turning to face Galen with a hand planted on his hip and a questioning look on his face. "Where you from that you don't have tents or cloaks?"

"Atzla," the Private admitted. "First time coming this far south. I didn't expect the nippy winds."

Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, the junior Sloss said, "Well, don't leave town without proper preparations there, friend. If you go any further south, well... They're called the Roaring Peaks for a reason."

"Thanks for the advice." Galen crossed his arms. "You said you were the Baron's son?"

Manning nodded, "I am. His one and only."

"So you live in that big house over there," he guessed, motioning his head toward the building and earning a proud smile from the man's face.

"I do. Have you ever seen such a majesty?" he wondered as he turned to gaze upon his residence.

With a smirk, Galen said, "I have. Been to Redding once and I saw all kinds of big mansions. Never got to see what one looked like on the inside though."

As if to answer a challenge, Manning stiffened up and turned to him while puffing his chest. "Well then, would you like to? The nobles of Redding may be too prudent to deal with what they think to be peasant folk but here in Ricton, the Sloss family watches out for the common man!" He threw a finger up into the air and tapped the side of his head by his eye as though emphasize his point. "Grandfather Ricton was one himself before he founded this town, he proved that there is greatness in any who are given a chance and seize the initiative!"

All too proud of his play, and rather impressed by the young man's words, Galen responded, "A tour would be fantastic."

Motioning him to follow, Manning started walking toward his home with his chin high and a swagger to his gait. At the manor's front door, the two guards straightened up and raised an open palm parallel to their brow in a manner similar to how Earth's armies saluted. Seeing the familiar gesture had Galen half-tempted to return it. Without having a headdress on, however, he opted to respectfully tip his head to them instead.

"This is the main floor," Manning said as they walked inside and Galen's eyes widened in wonder.

The first room they entered was nearly as wide and deep as the entire house itself. There was a family area to the left with its walls graced by a few fanciful paintings and pair of showcases for some rather magnificent gemstones. In the back of that room were two doors, one marked with a symbol that looked like a staircase and the other with a series of foreign symbols that looked to be the local script. Sitting in the center of the room was a horseshoe of couches around a fireplace on the far wall, and on them sat a quartet of men in armor playing card games with mugs in front of them.