The inn was a lot busier that Kel thought it would ever be and he was working a lot harder than he thought he would have to in his first night.
Almost everyone in the village — which is what the locals apparently called it — and quite a few more people from the city — also a local expression — were in the inn and Zallo seemed to know each and every one of them.
Yes, "The Dragon's Trove" — a name which Zallo was quite fond of — was extremely popular for such a seemingly nondescript inn.
Kel found himself doing most of the work actually, he wondered how anything was done without hired hands as Zallo spent most of his time catching up with his many acquaintances and friends.
His roaring laughter could often be heard over the bustle of the nearly-full inn. Zallo had even hired a fiddle player, the rapport between the two told Kel that he was a regular employee though. He couldn't have been older than his mid-twenties but he played and sung like a seasoned adept. The songs he played were fast-paced and jovial, charging the inn with an energetic atmosphere. The crowd clapped and sang along, often requesting the more commonplace songs that everyone knew for just a Cep.
Kel couldn't help but look at the fiddle player repeatedly or more accurately the fiddle. It had been over a year since he had played, having to sell his fiddle to afford a physician's opinion on his mother's sickness. A waste of time in the end.
Still, Kel felt the corners of his mouth move upwards at the memories of him playing upbeat tunes as the convoys rolled along, everyone singing together. The same around the campfires, only with a lot more dancing. Or, on those rare occasions he wouldn't trade for anything, he would play a sad beautiful ballad by himself or for his mother. He always brought her to tears, and himself when he was alone.
Zallo came over to the bar and began filling a couple of mugs.
"Is it usually this busy?" Kel asked over the noise.
"Aye, on the weekends at least."
"Not on the weekdays?"
"Oh, it's still busy on weekdays, just not this busy." The dwarf grinned and winked. "What are you doing in Olania anyway, lad?" he asked as gathered himself his third bowl of stew and began slurping it, not even bothering with a spoon.
"Just getting by, earning some money, stocking up on supplies."
"Bah! You Daedwreni, always on the move! Don't look so surprised kid, our cousins cousins are probably married!" The dwarf roared with laughter.
"You dwarves that live in Thesmiera aren't that different. You're just about the only one I've met that isn't an adventurer, mercenary, pirate or nationless gypsy."
"Who's to say I'm not all four?" The dwarf laughed again, as did Kel. "So, what are you and yours really doing here lad?"
Kel took a second but really saw no downside in the end. "My mother's sick, just trying to find some help is all."
"I'm sorry to hear that, lad. Life has a way of knocking people over and repeatedly kicking them while they're down," Zallo sounded as if he spoke from experience and Kel believed him wholeheartedly.
"Oi, red! Another one!" a villager called out, his mug raised in the air. Though it somewhat annoyed him, he was used to people calling him red or gypsy or thief, it still perplexed him why they didn't just ask his name though.
"Listen, lad. I've got some contacts, I'll ask around for ya. See if I can't get a good physician or maybe someone of the magical persuasion to take a look at yer ma."
YOU ARE READING
Without the Beauty of Us
FantasyA gypsy boy trying simply trying to survive in a harsh world. But his mother's unknown sickness grows worse with each day and so he must do what he has to in order to earn enough money to find her help This was my main WIP up until a few months ago...
