Keldric clutched the heavy pouch of 60 coppers in his hand. It felt like a fortune. It felt like victory. After a day of non-stop humiliation, they finally had some money. They had options.
First on the list: a roof over their heads.
"Alright, team," he announced, trying to sound like a proper leader "Let's find an inn. Someplace cheap, some place clean."
He led the search through the evening streets of Brightcrest, the setting sun casting long shadows between the timber-framed buildings. His simple goal of "cheap and clean" was immediately met with a barrage of conflicting, high-maintenance demands from his companions.
Strut, easily the top of the list when it came to 'high-maintanence', pointed a dismissive skeletal finger at the first inn they passed, a respectable-looking establishment called 'The Gryphon.' "Darling, absolutely not. The signage is tacky, the font choice is utterly pedestrian, and the colour palette screams 'last season'. We must find somewhere more luxurious, somewhere that reflects our emerging brand."
"Bro, look at this one!" Chad countered, peering into the rowdy, noisy common room of "The Orc's Head Tavern." He shook his head in disappointment. "Nevermind bro's. No space for bodyweight exercises. Zero gains potential. We need a place with good floor space for late-night workouts."
Keldric's eye twitched. "Guys," he said, voice strained with forced patience. "We have sixty coppers. Total. We are not looking for luxury or a gym. We are looking for the cheapest place, so we can sleep."
"A pragmatic, if fiscally limited, approach," Specs noted. He was studying a grand-looking building across the street called "The Weary Wanderer." "However, while its proximity to the main gate is convenient, a preliminary calculation of its estimated cost-per-square-foot versus its probable guest turnover rate suggests a suboptimal value proposition."
"Specs, what are you talking about? can you just calculate which one is the most optimal for our situation?" Keldric pleaded.
Seeing the Heroes mounting frustration, Bones decided to take matters into his own heroic hands. He trotted up to a man walking past, a kindly looking fellow with a round belly and a friendly face. "Excuse me, good sir!" Bones chirped. "My Mr. Hero and our party of brave adventurers are seeking lodging! Can you tell us where the cheapest inn in this fine city is?"
The man blinked down at the tiny, talking skeleton, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. "The cheapest, eh? Well, that depends. How much coin are you working with?"
"We have sixty coppers!" Bones announced proudly, as if it were a king's ransom.
The man's friendly expression dissolved. He let out a hearty laugh, loud and booming. "Sixty coppers?! Son, the cheapest room in any decent inn in Brightcrest will run you at least a hundred coppers a night! For sixty coppers, you'll be lucky to get a spot in a stable!"
Keldric's heart sank. A wave of theatrical despair, one he didn't even have to fake, washed over him. He clutched his head dramatically. "Homeless! We're going to be homeless! Sleeping in an alley! Our first night as an official guild!"
"I would rather perish," Strut declared, her voice a low hiss. "I will not sleep outdoors."
The man seemed to take pity on their pathetic display. "Now, hold on," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I said no decent inn would take you..." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "However... there is one place that might take you for that price. If you're not too picky. And you don't mind the occasional... character."
'The Salty Spitoon'.
The party stood staring at their destination.
It wasn't so much a building as a collection of weary timbers leaning against each other for emotional support. The inn was dingy, slumped between two taller, cleaner buildings like a rotten tooth. A faded, barely legible sign creaked mournfully in the breeze, the words "The Salty Spitoon" just visible under layers of grime.
Keldric stared at the grimy windows and the door that looked like it had lost a fight with an axe. "I don't like the look of this," he muttered.
Elara, standing beside him, shivered slightly. "I agree," she whispered, moving closer to Keldric, her voice barely audible. "It feels like the kind of place you go into, but don't come out of."
Keldric, taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm his nerves, led the party forward. He pushed open the inn's heavy, splintered door, which groaned in protest, and stepped inside.
The interior of "The Salty Spitoon" was even dingier than the outside suggested. The air was thick with the smell of stale ale, old sawdust, and unwashed bodies. A few shady-looking patrons huddled in dark corners, their eyes following the newcomers with open suspicion. The whole place was dimly lit by a few sputtering tallow candles that seemed to create more shadows than light. It was less a place of rest and more a place where you'd wake up missing a kidney.
As they took a few steps in, a brown, furry blur scurried across the floorboards right in front of them, its tiny claws making a scratching sound on the wood.
Elara let out a small gasp. Keldric just sighed. Of course, there are rats.
Then came a sound none of them expected. A piercing, high-pitched shriek of pure, undiluted terror.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!"
Chad, the muscle-bound skeleton, the one-man wrecking crew, did not run. He did not fight. He did the most unexpected thing possible. He leaped onto the nearest, sturdiest-looking person for safety, who just happened to be Elara. Clung to her robes like a terrified toddler, trying to scramble up her body to get away from the floor.
Elara let out a startled "Oof!" as a three-foot, muscle-bound skeleton suddenly used her as a climbing frame. She staggered, trying to keep her balance with a frantic, bony creature attached to her leg.
"GET IT AWAY!" Chad screamed, his voice three octaves higher than normal, pointing a trembling finger at the spot where the rat had disappeared. "IT'S A F@#$ING RAT! ELARA, SAVE ME!"
Keldric stared. My tank. My party's only tank. The one who lifts boulders for fun. Is terrified of a mouse. We are so, so screwed.
At the far end of the room, behind a long, grimy bar, the gruffest, hairiest innkeeper Keldric had ever seen just watched the spectacle, completely unfazed. The man was built like a barrel with legs, his face almost completely obscured by a wild, untamed beard. After Elara managed to pry a still-shaking Chad off of her, Keldric, trying to salvage some shred of dignity, stepped up to the bar.
"Good evening," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'd like to inquire about your rooms. I'll need two, please. One for myself, and a separate one for the lady." He gestured politely towards Elara.
The innkeeper let out a short, barking laugh. He slammed a dirty tankard down on the bar. "Two rooms? For you lot?" He gestured vaguely at their bizarre party. "You think this is The Gryphon? You got the coin for two rooms, pretty boy?"
Did he just call me pretty? Keldric thought, a strange mix of flattery and indignation bubbling up inside him.
"We must not split the party, Mr. Hero!" Bones objected, his voice full of heroic indignation. "It's a classic trope for the villain to pick off the heroes one by one while they're separated! We must stick together for safety!"
"Yeah, bro!" Chad agreed, having regained some of his composure. He flexed an arm for no particular reason. "Total tactical error. Plus, what if you need a spotter for some midnight gains? Gotta stay close to the team!"
The innkeeper squinted at Chad. "Who in their right mind does 'midnight gains'?"
"Excuse me!?" Chad shot back, deeply offended. "Only those who take their gains seriously! Gains never sleep, bro!"
Strut, who had been surveying the room with an expression of profound horror, let out a theatrical sigh. "While this establishment is an affront to the very concept of interior design," she announced, "I will not be sleeping in a stable. We must secure some form of accommodation inside. I refuse to expose my couture to the elements."
The innkeeper crossed his massive arms, unimpressed. "That's nice. Price for two rooms is one hundred and fifty coppers. Up front."
The number hit Keldric. One hundred and fifty. More than double what they had. His plan, his attempt to be a gentleman, his last shred of dignity. Evaporated in an instant. Defeated, he slumped against the bar.
"Do you..." he began, the words tasting like ash. "Do you have a single... large room? The cheapest one you've got. For all of us."
The innkeeper grunted, a flicker of something that might have been amusement in his beady eyes. He reached under the counter and slapped a single, large, incredibly rusty iron key onto the wood.
"The attic room. Got one 'master bed'," he said, using very deliberate air-quotes for the word 'master'. "Big enough for all you weirdos if you ain't picky about personal space. Fifty-five coppers for the night. And I don't wanna hear a peep out of you lot."
Keldric pushed the majority of their hard-earned money across the grimy bar. The innkeeper swept the coins into a drawer without counting them. The deal was struck. They had a room.
And they were, once again, almost completely broke.
-
-
-
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Keldric's adventure, don't forget to Follow and Favorite the story to keep up with new chapters.