This choice: Anya, She who would be Grand Prince? • Go Back...Chapter #5"Welcome, traveller, to Novograd." by: hedkrakka   "Thank you," the tall man said as he dusted the snow off his great coat. He was quite a thin figure, and as he unwound his scarf, he revealed a short, red beard and a pair of piercing blue eyes. "Cicifus' mind numbing hells, it is cold out there! I thought winter had broken!?"
"It has. This is spring," the old inn keeper chuckled. He was not as tall as the traveller, but far broader. His arms were thick with muscle, and as he took his coat, the traveller noted the thick callouses on the man's hands. "I'll admit I'm somewhat shocked to see a peddler wandering the roads in this weather. I should warn you, you'll probably be stuck here for a time. This blizzard is a freak, tis true, but it'll melt soon enough, then the roads will be impassable."
"That's fine, I'm just glad I made it," he said, trying and failing to blow a little warmth back into his hands. "Can you set me up with a room and meals for the duration?"
"Certainly. What name should I put you under?"
"Michael Kensington. And don't worry about payment. I have both pepper and true silver. What about stabling for my mount?"
"That'll be included, though you have to pay for the feed, naturally. My name's Ivan, by the way," the old innkeeper said as he hung Michael's coat. Ivan poured a slug of ale into a copper warmer, placing it on the fire. "So what brings you so far from Roiling Bay?"
"Potential business. How did you know I was from the South?"
"It's the name," the keep said as he tested the temperature of the warming beverage. Satisfied, he poured it into a pewter tankard, and offered it to his guest. "This should get some warmth back into your bones. And I wasn't always an innkeeper. In my younger years, I saw a lot of the world as a carpenter on various trading vessels. I reckon I've set foot in every port in this land at least once, and quite a few more then that. And the only place I ever heard names like yours was down in Roiling Bay, usually Cluny or Tuxley."
Michael laughed, and took a sip of his drink. "Well, you're spot on, mate. My family's from Cluny, and I moved to Tuxley about five or six years ago. Joined up with the Merchant Guild there, and barely been home since."
He was, of course, giving Ivan the extreme cliff notes version of what had actually brought him here. The young merchant had proven very successful in his chosen profession, and had even convinced the council of masters to allow him to travel to the far north to establish trade with (what he assured them was) this rather rich and untapped realm.
It had been the new Prince, Anya, who had invited him, of course. The two had met in Adinah, her an academically poor foreign student with an atrocious accent, and him a new merchant apprentice who spent more time getting his superiors tea then doing anything constructive. The two had quickly become fast friends, and though their association was short, the two had kept in touch, frequently sending letters between them.
For the last several months, Anya's letters had all but dried up, Then, out of the blue, he'd received a heavily encoded and multi-page document, written in Anya's heavy handwriting. It had taken him almost three days to decode it, and was shocked upon its contents. She'd listed off the death of her father by an unknown assassin; the murder of her siblings by her brother, Sergei; her overthrow of Sergei in turn, and her struggles with her new court.
She'd ended it by inviting Michael to come to Novograd, capital of the Meshcheri. Beyond being a good excuse to see each other again, she also promised a sizable business opportunity, one that would benefit both the guild and her realm, as well as making both of them quite wealthy. Michael had been quite intrigued, and sent back his own coded message stating he'd arrive in the spring.
And this, of course, brought the tanned southerner to where he now sat.
"Your travels have certainly taken you far, then," the old man chuckled. "Well, I have an early day tomorrow, so I shall leave you for the night. My wife and son are in the kitchen. They'll see to your room and food."
"Much obliged, Ivan."
"Oh, there's no need to thank me. You're paying for it, after all." And with that, the old keep wandered off, leaving Michael sipping his piping hot beer, wondering what tomorrow's meeting would bring.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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