DUSK. A fine time for a bit of a smoke, accompanied by red wine and roasted duck.
A flock of weary adventurers strode into The Tavern, armed to the teeth with gold and silver, seeking out the finest lodging they could find tonight. An attendant tended to their needs and promptly led the group up to the available rooms.
At the same time, man and his female partner feasted on a merry spread of gorgeous food; red meat, white meat, fruits, broth, stew, beer and wine, and salads on the side. It seemed like the meal would never end, as though the pair were a both the Earth itself and the magma within, the both of them chewing and digesting and swallowing everything that crossed their paths.
Observing these activities before its eyes, the coming and going, the dining, the cheerful singing of homesick odes, the dancing that came with the singing, was a figure seated in one of the secluded corners of The Tavern’s main hall. A wooden chalice rested on the table by its hand, containing a bluish drink that was as ethereal as his hidden features. His hood was pulled low and gloves and clothing covered every inch of his skin.
Then again, the observer was being observed. A woman a few tables away conducted idle chatter with her companion, but now and then her eyes would hop away from her friend and land on this solitary figure, if even for just a second. She could smell bad news a mile away, and that lonesome figure emanated an aura of metaphorical disease.
When the figure emptied its chalice and left its seat, the woman whispered something to her companion before beginning her pursuit. On passing the table, she spied the coins that the figure had left beside its drinking cup.
Modest, she thought, but not good enough.
She found the figure exiting the arched entryway of The Tavern, that arch that was never closed, always welcoming new and familiar visitors alike.
That was a security defect, albeit a convivial and friendly one, she thought.
For a second she thought she lost the figure, then realised that the person went around a corner of the building, probably hugging what little shadows the night had drenched onto the well-lit walls. Her silent footsteps followed in its wake.
It was at the back of The Tavern when it happened. While she managed to avoid the blow to her head, she didn’t expect the surroundings to change at that precise moment. First she was sidling in an alleyway, going around the corner of the building. The next second she was stumbling in sand, fighting off the scaled reptile as the scorching desert floor broke away under her every step.
After wrestling the sentient beast to exhaustion, the woman and the beast both parted their blades and glared at the other across an empty distance. Neither was prepared to submit and neither wanted their face to be pressed deep into the burning sand.
And then a window of The Tavern opened and a man called out to them, “Oi! No fightin' on tavern premisesees, or you’ll ’ave to watch out fo' the Magus!”
The woman had to admit, she had never been to this building before, the place simple known as ‘The Tavern’. She happened to stop by today to hunt down this beast, this living, thinking, sentient bipedal creature. Though she had done her research on The Tavern and knew that the building was able to change its location, and that fighting was frowned upon in its vicinity, she had no idea who this Magus was. No idea except you don’t want to tango with the Mago.
She looked up and there he was, the man in elaborate cloak and tailored garments, standing on the roof of the building and looking down on them without so much as a moving finger. Even the flapping of his clothing in the desert wind was devoid of sound.
The beast took this opportunity, the woman with her lowered guard, to lunge at its prey. But the claw to the throat never connected. With the blink of his eyes the Magus engulfed the creature in bluish flame, flame that didn’t disintegrate the creature but nevertheless made it vanish.
The man at the window didn’t so much as look amazed by this superior display of magic. Instead he called out again, “You, girl! What was that all about?”
She replied, “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“What was that about?”
“That’s my business.”
>Continued in Part 2
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