Rosanni's Adventures, chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Humble Barmaid and the Cloaked Man

The wooden walls of the old tavern creaked as the wind blew past. The warm light of summer came through the windows as golden shafts. Standing behind the bar, the barmaid knew not of the events to come. These winds carried something ominous, dark, evil with them.

The barmaid, Rosanni, lived a humble life in the country. She had always expected more from her life, she wanted something to happen. She resigned herself to the life she thought boring and dull, letting out a sigh as she brushed the dust off the bar.

"Why do I stay here," she asked herself, "No one comes here anymore." The bar is in disrepair, the door wouldn't open, and even the well had almost dried up. She wanted to move, she felt she needed to, only the lack of money kept her at the rundown tavern.

She went outside, the wind blowing her auburn hair, the breeze cooling her face. The flat plains had served as a simple, but nice, home. She had always wanted to travel to the capital, but lacked the finances to do that. She lamented this fact but worked as hard as ever to keep the bar running, as her father would have.

Her father was a kind, hardworking man. He raised Rosanni all by himself. Her mother went missing a year after she was born, leaving the child without a mother. Rosanni's father would often speak of what a beautiful women her mother was, with a solemn smile on his face.

Those times were gone; her father was dead, and she was going to turn homeless as soon as the bar inevitably closed its doors forever.

She labored through the day, preparing stew for the guest that would never arrive. Or so she thought. The doors creaked open, and in walked a cloaked man. He took a seat in the corner, shying from the light. Cautiously, she approached him.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded and pointed at the pot hanging over the fire, "stew," he said in a hushed tone.

"Anything else, sir?" she asked.

He waved his hand dismissively. A mysterious man wearing a cloak isn't something she saw often. After had had finished his meal, he left coins on the table and got up. For an instant, Rosanni thought she saw a spark of blue from under the man's hood.

"He couldn't be. . ." she said to herself, "I must be imagining things."

The next day came, and the man came back. He ordered the same thing and left the same amount of coins. For a week he came and went in the same fashion. This sparked Rosanni's curiosity, to almost a fervent pitch.

The next time he came, she approached him. She pulled out the chair opposite his, and sat down. From under his hood Rosanni could see a smirk.

"Work up the courage to approach me, finally, I can see you're tired of being here." He said.

"A strange man hiding his face enters my bar, isn't it only natural of me to be curious," she said.

"I wouldn't expect much else from someone as curious as you are."

"What makes you so sure that I am as inquisitive as you think I am?"

"My instincts told me. I can also tell you seek fortune and adventures. I can bring you both those things."

She was intrigued by this statement. He could almost tell what the exact thoughts she was thinking. This was strange. She had to ask, ask more about these promises. "why do you think you can bring me these things?"

He started laughing. "You can be most sure of it," he said as he lowered his hood, "I am quite certain I know what I am talking about."

She gasped as she stared into the glowing blue eye. The eye of a prophet. The eye of a king.