Chapter 1: The Pickled Foot

The Chronicles of Vyronis

Chapter 1: The Pickled Foot

The taverns and inns within Numorhold were well known across all of Tyra for being places of ill repute and skulduggery. Hives of swindlers, gamblers, rogues and dwarves with drinking issues; with a few well-chosen words and a bag of coin, there weren't many services you couldn't buy.
         The Pickled Foot was one of these establishments. So named after the owners well preserved foot which was kept behind the bar in a place of honour, it was perhaps the dirtiest hole in Vikenguard, a title not easily won. The Foot sat just off the main market road of Lower Town and from outside in seemed quaint and inviting. With stained white walls, dark wooden panelling and a fraying thatched roof, it was one of Numorhold's oldest buildings.

         The owner himself, Ned, a name short for something, but he kept that a closely guarded secret, was a large, thoughtful man. With his balding head, patches here and there, a long twirling moustache and a belly you could stand three mugs of ale upon, he had watched over his beloved Pickled Foot for decades. He had a short wooden peg to replace his lost foot, and so couldn't move around very well. But it was good enough to stand on and serve his customers. If anyone asked him how he came to lose the foot, he would launch into a grandiose tale that changed on a weekly basis, but it usually involved a hungry ice troll and rather curious shrew.

It was a quiet night in the foot as a lone snowflake drifted lazily past the window; autumn was fading and the freeze would soon be upon them. Ned was currently wiping out a mug with a small tattered cloth and gave a little sigh as he looked around the empty Inn. The Foot was in bad need of repair. The chairs and tables had not been replaced since his grandfather had been alive and the floor was so dirty the timber underneath could no longer be seen. But with so little trade, he hadn't the money to even fix the wonky bar stools.
         Ned stopped wiping his mug for a moment and gave his moustache a nervous stroke. He had a feeling that something was wrong, and over the years he had learnt to trust the feelings that arose from his considerable gut. He fiddled with his moustache once more and looked around the Inn.
He glanced over at two men who were sat in the corner beside the hog roast, muttering quietly together, occasionally looking up before continuing in haste. They were not from around here, perhaps Alvar Elves from Dal Emet wondered Ned. He had seen his fair share of Elves recently, though they did not usually venture this far north during the colder months. Ned had no doubt that they were up to something, but after examining them for a while, he was sure it wasn't them who had him worried.
Across from the elves, sat on a large round table in the middle of the inn, was a merry bunch. Travellers of some kind, they had spoken in an outlandish tongue when asking for a drink and paid with golden square coins. Every so often they would break out into a merry song and dance around the table. They were indeed a strange, but Ned was used to strange and they were not the ones troubling him.

He threw his cloth into the washing pile and picked up an equally dirty one and began to absentmindedly clean his mug, which had now been the same one for the last fifteen minutes. A few more patrons were scattered around place, some passed out, some eying up the Harlots leaning seductively over the balconies above. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary and Ned couldn't understand why he like something was wrong.
         Then Ned spotted him. Right at the end of the bar, nearly out of sight, a man stood leaning hunched over on the corner of the counter. He had completely forgotten about him; he hadn't said a word since ordering a drink maybe half an hour ago. His face was hidden by a low hanging dark hood, but Ned could just make out some long blonde hair poking from within. He got the distinct feeling that the man had been watching him this whole time. Then as if he knew Ned was on to him, the man picked up his mug and moved casually to lean on the wall, facing away from him. A card game was being played in the corner next to the open fire, and he appeared most interested.
Now Ned was used to serving customers who wished to remain anonymous, in fact if he stopped all suspicious types entering then he would probably have to shut the doors and call it a day. But this man bugged him, he didn't belong. His travellers cloak was well used and worn through, but his boots appeared new and expensive. Far too expensive for the usual type around here, men had been killed for less in these parts. His shoulders were broad and he stood above most men, confidence seemed to exude from him.
The man continued to watch the card game, which had quite a reasonable crowd. The game itself was being played on an upturned barrel with both players sitting on rickety wooden chairs. Ned set down his now thoroughly unclean mug and hobbled over to get a closer look at the game.

He recognised the player facing him as Angus Edgarsson, a regular in the foot. With a shiny bald head, arms the size of tree trunks and a long rough beard, he could have passed for an ogre. Indeed there had been a rumour going round Lower Town that his mother was in fact a troll from the Windcrest Mountains, but no one had dared ask him if that were true. He had fearsome reputation and was not a man you wanted as your enemy.
Ned strained his neck to see the other player but his view was blocked by the crowd. He could just make out a dark figure, hooded, his head bowed towards the floor. Angus was talking fast and his eyes seemed to be bulging, this didn't look good. Angus raised his hand, pointing at his opponent before slamming his fist down on the table and rising to his feet menacingly.
"You're a filthy cheater" he cried accusingly. "You've got card hidden somewhere on ya I know it!" He was shouting so loudly the whole Inn could hear him. "I've never lost three games in a row, never! You've got some trickery or magic about you I can feel it!" Angus spat. He glared at is opponent, as if daring him to call him a liar.
The watching crowd had taken a collective breath in, enthralled by the drama before them. The hooded player hadn't moved an inch throughout all this; he hadn't even raised his head. There were a few seconds of silence, Angus breathing heavily, before the man also stood. He was about the same height as Angus, but far leaner and wiry.
He looked up to meet Angus's gaze.

From the light of the fire, Ned caught a glimpse of two steely blue eyes underneath his hood. These eyes bore no signs of fear; on the contrary Ned got the feeling the man was slightly amused. The man very slowly and deliberately raised his arms, and did a little turn on the spot, showing that he had nothing hidden.

He spoke very calmly and softly "My friend I assure you I have nothing on me, no cards or hidden tricks. May I present the idea that perhaps you are losing because I am outplaying you." Steam seemed to sprout from the Angus's ears and an eye came very close to popping out.
"May I also suggest that you are accusing me of cheating because you know you have lost and do not have the stones to admit it?" He continued. There was a little chuckle from the crowd. Angus turned his head to look for the culprit and the laughter quickly subsided.

"If you don't shut your wise crackin mouth I'm going to shut for you, ya hear!?" said Angus pointing his menacing finger again before curling it into a fist. However Angus could tell this man wasn't going to be easily bullied into submitting. He composed himself a little before talking in a much lower voice.
"Now may I suggest you give me back my share, you can keep yours, and we'll avoid any unpleasantness? Deal?" Angus let out a rare toothy grin; he was clearly trying his best to be reasonable.
The hooded man didn't move; considering the offer. The crowd had now doubled in size, and were all watching in bated breath. Behind the bar Ned had brought his trusty bat to his side, just in case. Then the hooded man threw a bag of coin on to the barrel, reached into his breast pocket and threw down another. The crowd let off a few whistles and Angus eyed the bags greedily.

"I propose one last hand, a game of all or nothing. I've put my initial coin plus my winnings on the table." He picked up the first bag and jingled it about. "And I've added a second bag, doubling the amount on offer." He picked up the other bag and showed it to the crowd; he was clearly enjoying himself. Then, after staying still this whole time, aside from sipping his drink, the man Ned didn't like the look of leaned in and whispered something into the player's ear.
Ned noticed for the first time that they were wearing very similar clothes, same cloaks, same boots. They even moved in a similar way, they held themselves different to everyone else in the room. The hooded player nodded and gave the man a quick pat on the back, who returned to his quiet watchful leaning on the wall. Angus hadn't taken his eyes off the money this whole time, his brain working furiously.

"I have no more coin to put in" he said gruffly. "I have nothing to match your bet with." The hooded man sat down on his chair and considered this for a moment, looking Angus up and down.
"Your clothes" he said after a while.
"Excuse me" Angus said half laughing "your coin against my clothes? Which aren't even worth half a penny by the way?" he said pulling his ragged cloth shirt. The hooded man smiled and nodded.
"Yes that's my terms" he replied quickly. The crowd began to egg Angus on, wanting to make this show go on as long as possible.
"Take that Angus mate, you'd be mad not to." Shouted a young voice from the back of the crowd.
"Yeah, what have you got to lose, I've seen ogres with better clothes than you." Laughter broke out among the gathering.
"I've seen ogre's mums with better clothes than that..." Said a sly voice from within the safety of the group." More laughter erupted from the group.
Angus turned bright purple "My mother isn't an ogre!! He bellowed "she just moved to the mountains because she likes the fresher air." This did nothing to curb the assembly's amusement, who were close to tears. Two gnomes were actually on the floor clutching their sides, though gnomes are known to find the simplest of jokes hilarious. Rarely did the local crowd get a chance to taunt Angus in such a way. The hooded man coughed to get Angus's attention who was staring furiously at the gnomes.
"My proposal?" he said quietly. A rather red in the face Angus thought about it again for a quick moment before sitting down on his chair and slamming his fist on the barrel once more.
"I'll take your offer...all or nothing." He growled. The crowd cheered and there was a quick hurry to buy more drinks before the action started.

Ned finished serving the last member of the crowd, who hurried off back to watch the game, before also moving closer himself. They had already started that much he could tell, but he wasn't sure who was winning. Every now and then the crowd would give out an over exaggerated gasp or a light round of clapping in approval.
Ned wanted to see what was going on, but he also didn't want to take his eye off this hooded stranger who still remained leaning on the wall. He once again stroked his moustache and hobbled a little closer still; he could see the game through a small gap in the crowd.

"I play a Cycian nine" said Angus with a huge grin across his face. The crowd let out a ripple of applause, he was almost there he could smell victory. The hooded man lent back in his chair with a sigh and looked thoughtfully at his cards. His face was still mostly covered in darkness, but his blue eyes shone from within, like stars against the black night sky. After what seemed like an age, he plucked a card out from his hand and placed it on top.
"Kargerak nine" the man said a smile playing on his mouth. The crowd could barely handle this; one of the watchers actually threw his full mug of ale clean over his shoulder in excitement, much to the displeasure of the elf behind him. Both players could win, and it was down to the last card.
The hooded man had the upper hand, as Angus had to play first, but if Angus could produce the right card, the money was his. Angus looked at his cards; his face was bright and he was obviously trying to supress his delight. A few of the people behind him let out little nervous giggles as they knew what was about to come. Angus very slowly and deliberately lent right in close and placed his card down.
"Numorhold ten" he said with glee before standing up and raising his arms triumphant, taking in the applause from the crowd. The hooded man hadn't moved though, and the crowd quickly settled, it was not over yet. It was nearly impossible for him to win, nearly. The man eventually stood up looking forlorn, cards still clutched in his hands.
"Well it seems you have played a very good game." He said quietly
"Ha ha yes! Roared Angus "I got you this time you sneaky rat!" He shook hands with the crowd and received many claps on the back taking in all of his justly deserved praised. He lifted a mug ale to his mouth and downed it in one before throwing it into the air. He then turned his eyes on the moneybags.

"Indeed!" shouted the hooded man, stopping Angus as he moved towards his prize.
"A very good game; your best of the evening in fact. However sadly once again, you will have to concede defeat."
The man threw down his last card.
"Tyra ten" he pronounced gleefully. The colour seemed to drain out of Angus's face. The watching crowd erupted into hysterics; they had never seen a game like this before. Angus didn't know what to do; he just stood on the spot boiling with rage.
"Now I believe you must remove your clothing I'm afraid my friend." Laughed the man. This was too much for Angus.

"Me!" He thundered, spraying ale everywhere. "Never mind me taking my clothes off! You've sat there all night with that hood over your face!" Angus Yelled.          
"There's something off about you, let's see who you really are!" Angus lunged forward to knock the man's hood off, but quickly and deftly the man caught his hand. As he did so a fan of cards flew out into the air from his sleeve and fluttered down gently to the floor. There was silence. Angus seemed to grow ten feet taller, the muscles in his arms twitching.
"You cheating lying scum" he said slowly "I knew you were swindling me! No one gets that lucky with cards." His teeth grinding together.
"And you wanted me to take off my clothes...well I'm going to take off your head!" Angus leant back and took a massive swing at the man.

Then suddenly, after leaning on the wall for almost an hour unmoving, quick as a flash the other man caught Angus's arm, delivered a punishing blow to the stomach with the cracking of ribs, before a well-placed elbow on the back of the head.
Angus swayed on the spot for a moment before going crashing down into the barrel sending splinters everywhere. The watching crowd were paralysed in shock at what they just seen. Then, one of the gnomes hobbled out from behind the crowd and stool on one of the rickety chairs. He took a in a deep breath, raised his hands to his face and yelled out one single word.

"FIGHT!"

The Pickled foot erupted into absolute mayhem. The crowd that moments ago had stood motionless, began to launch themselves on each other. People were punching and kicking, eye gouging and ball booting. Friends who, seconds earlier were talking quietly to one another were now charging, with crazy looks in their eyes, as if they had hated each other for years. It didn't matter who it was you were punching, or who was punching you, it was a free for all.
         Ned ducked as a mug of ale came soaring over his head. The strange travellers had leapt on to the tables and were now singing a hearty song whilst the place around them was being torn to pieces, oblivious it seemed. Ned gave a small sigh, he had been through this many times, and there wasn't much he could do but wait for it all to blow over. He noticed that the two hooded men were right in the thick of the fighting, one with a bloody nose and the other on the floor, trying to wriggle free from two persistent gnomes who had hold of him. Ned noticed that incredibly both the men were laughing. The one with the bloody nose dodged out of the way of a wild swing, and in same motion floored his would be attacker before looking down at his companion.

"Need some help down there Jakob" he shouted above the racket, grinning widely and dodging a stray bar stool. The man on the floor was still wrestling with the gnomes.
"NO! No I'm fine, I've got this!" Jakob wheezed as he managed to prise one of the gnomes from his leg and sent him flying through the air across the bar.
The other Gnome released him immediately and ran off in the direction of his friend. Jakob stood up, his hood had now fallen down revealing shoulder length black hair. It was the card player; Ned recognised him from somewhere but just couldn't place him. He watched as the two men stood and observed the havoc they had created. Once again they were joking about something.
"Hayden you've seen me pull that off a hundred times before" said Jakob "The cards must have come loose this time is all."
"Anyway isn't this what we really wanted" he laughed gesturing to the small riot.

Hayden deflected a fork which was heading his way with a small flick of his hand."
"I suppose so" he agreed. "I was getting a bit bored leaning against the wall, you could have finished him of quicker!" Hayden said
"True" replied Jacob "But where's the fun in that."
Suddenly the door to the Pickled Foot burst open and around a dozen, fully armed men, came charging in.
"GUARDS!" someone screamed from underneath a pile of bodies. Like rats running from light, the whole Inn began to make for the exits. Hayden and Jakob gave each other a quick look before turning on their heels and heading for the nearest window.
However just as they were about to jump through it a large, very well fed woman launched herself at the window from the balcony above. She had made a horrible misjudgement; her head and arms were free, but the rest seemed to want to stay, lodged in the small hole. Jakob could help but burst out into laughter.

Wasting no time though, Hayden grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down the corridor leading the back of the Foot. The guards were breaking up fights quickly and were nearly upon them. Dodging some scrapping dwarves, and hoping over Angus's still unconscious body, they jumped out of the back window without even looking.
Ned gave one last weary sigh, before very carefully reaching up and taking his prized pickled foot from the shelf, clutching it around his waist like a baby with its teddy. He slid through a door and out into the back just a mug narrowly missed him, smashing into the wall. There was nothing he could do; he was off for a drink.

Hayden and Jakob picked themselves up quickly from their fall and rushed off down the pebbled road, into the dark cold night. More smashing of windows could be heard as people made their desperate bids for freedom, and guards shouted to one another trying to head them off. Snow was beginning to fall heavily now, and off in the distance, towering above the rest of Numorhold was a magnificent fortress, its lights blinking warmth in the night. This was Dalmasund, the hall of the king, Hayden and Jakobs destination.