59th of Winter, 514
Late evening
Late evening
With a slight slouch in his spine and an apathetic gaze, the cloaked squire walked the streets of Syliras in an unfortunately familiar pattern, fulfilling his routes for what was certainly not the first time. It had only been a few chimes, maybe a bell or two, since Aventis had set out, armed with his shortsword and rapier, from the dormitories and out into the cold evening, ripe with chill and empty of people. Once or twice now he had passed The Rearing Stallion, which had been busy for a long while now. There must have been something about a warm hearth and cheap drink that attracted the masses on a cold winter evening.
The squire held his cloak taut around his shivering torso, doing his best to remain warm in the biting cold. The rounds were devastatingly dull, and the hearth looked more and more welcoming with every turn of the rounds. The sun had begun to set over the hills and the torches upon the walls glowed brighter in a dim comparison, which seemed to increase Aventis’ fatigue. He was close to turning the corner and seeing the bustling tavern, lights gleaming through the windows and merry laughter through the walls, for a third time, and he wasn’t to keen to do it.
He could hear the chorus before he could see it, muffled voices breaking through the walls and reaching the Eypharian’s ears, much to his contempt. Upon rounding the corner and setting eyes upon the old tavern, Aventis felt a sudden desire to desert his rounds, step into the tavern, and enjoy the hearth along with the many others that had before him. The people were off putting and undesirable, yes, but the hearth would make up for it.
The squire stepped a bit closer, his stern expression softening as he set eyes upon the happy little building. He stood there, for a moment, wondering about the tavern, what would happen if he went in. Of course he wouldn’t, oh no, he would never desert rounds, but it was certainly tempting. He had found himself getting hungry, as well, and that could easily be remedied with a moment of time in The Rearing Stallion…
No. No, of course not. he thought, his jaw locking and fists, those that were in sight, at least, tensing at the thought. I’m not leaving.
But… Maybe a moment more of looking wouldn’t harm anyone.
The squire held his cloak taut around his shivering torso, doing his best to remain warm in the biting cold. The rounds were devastatingly dull, and the hearth looked more and more welcoming with every turn of the rounds. The sun had begun to set over the hills and the torches upon the walls glowed brighter in a dim comparison, which seemed to increase Aventis’ fatigue. He was close to turning the corner and seeing the bustling tavern, lights gleaming through the windows and merry laughter through the walls, for a third time, and he wasn’t to keen to do it.
He could hear the chorus before he could see it, muffled voices breaking through the walls and reaching the Eypharian’s ears, much to his contempt. Upon rounding the corner and setting eyes upon the old tavern, Aventis felt a sudden desire to desert his rounds, step into the tavern, and enjoy the hearth along with the many others that had before him. The people were off putting and undesirable, yes, but the hearth would make up for it.
The squire stepped a bit closer, his stern expression softening as he set eyes upon the happy little building. He stood there, for a moment, wondering about the tavern, what would happen if he went in. Of course he wouldn’t, oh no, he would never desert rounds, but it was certainly tempting. He had found himself getting hungry, as well, and that could easily be remedied with a moment of time in The Rearing Stallion…
No. No, of course not. he thought, his jaw locking and fists, those that were in sight, at least, tensing at the thought. I’m not leaving.
But… Maybe a moment more of looking wouldn’t harm anyone.