There was little in the way of profit in slaying goblins because they rarely had anything of value. The bounty didn’t make it worth the risk to him, so Karas moved on quietly from the area leaving the goblins to their argument of treasure division. He put his horse into a gallop down the trail, no doubt spooking the goblins, which brought a smile to his face.
He approached the next town as the light was disappearing from the sky and hoped the villagers hadn’t shut their gates for the night. He wouldn’t blame them with all of the dangers lurking in the woods all around them. They were technically under the protection of the king but the king gave them little other than an occasional patrol or a mercenary like him to take care of a particular threat. The villagers were visited far more frequently by tax collectors so they had to take care of their own safety and security. Not having a wall was close to suicide for a community out this far from the capital.
The gates were just starting to be closed as he came around the curve, but they halted at his approach. Their crossbows were quickly at the ready at the arrival of a heavily armed stranger, drawing a smile to the fighter’s face as he thought about having a warm feather bed tonight instead of the hard and rocky ground.
“What do you want with the town of Green Vale?” a large man asked in as gruff a tone as possible.
Karas flipped a gold piece to the man, “A soft bed, warm food, and cold drink if they can be found.”
The weapons were quickly lowered as smiles formed on the faces of the men. The fighter loved how much more hospitable people became when they were offered money. One of the men offered to stable his horse which drew a coin from Karas’s pocket. The other went back to closing the gate and Karas made his way through the town.
Most of the shops were closed for the night, but he could hear activity at the blacksmith as he walked by and casually thought about if he had any weapons that needed repair, but quickly moved on to the local bar and inn. The noise came to a stop as he entered as the locals took some time to size up the stranger. Ignoring their stares as natural worry, Karas order a room as well as food and a drink with plans to enjoy the evening. It didn’t take long for the conversations and music to start up again as the crowd decided he wasn’t going to commit any acts of violence, at least not until he put some food and drink in his belly.
The tavern girl looked like she was having a hard time of things as several of the patrons made grabs at her, drawing laughter when they made her spill something. Karas didn’t want to get involved because the men had been drinking heavily, and would likely want to start a fight. Karas didn’t really want to tangle with him because Karas played for blood and even though he would be on the right the town wasn’t likely to see it that way.
Karas watched closely as the girl approached his table with food and drink. He saw a man preparing for a powerful pinch to the lady’s rear, drawing snickering from his companions and he could contain himself no longer. The fighter moved with great speed across the room grabbing the man’s head as he passed and slammed it hard into the table, drawing some blood and possibly breaking the nose.
The room fell silent as everyone waited and wondered what would happen next.
“I apologize,” Karas said as he dropped some coins on the table. “The lady looked like she might spill for . . . some reason, so I came to help and bumped into you. I hope buying your table a round of drink will make up for the . . . accident.”
Anger at being hit rose in the man but his thoughts changed as the sound of the metal-clad hands of Karas drummed away at his sword grip, waiting for the man’s decision. The man grumbled something and went back to drinking. The lady would be safe for the rest of the night as none in the room had a great desire to take on the heavily armed man. Karas for his part was glad he still had a bed in his future as well as a warm meal. The stew was made from some of the local wild game, and the brew was a nice and heavy imported northern brew. He was careful to keep an eye on the man he had hurt in case the alcohol he was taking in like a fish gave him some liquid courage.
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