Hank ascended the stairs, his heart racing in his chest. The thought of sharing a room with a stranger teased him with the feeling of anticipation and dread. Let alone, he had barely known her, even learned her name, and now they were about to share a private space...
"This doesn't feel right," he muttered to himself as his feet stumbled across the creaky steps of the stairs.
As he reached the top of the stairs, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, her silhouette, her steps as if she had vanished from the entire corporeal realm. Or… in a more reasonable approach, she probably just entered the room.
Hank began to count the number on the door, "106... 106..." he muttered, trying to locate the room he was settled in.
Followed by the faint memory of what he memorized of what the innkeeper said, "down the corridor, and to his left," he began to hasten his steps, skipping past many rooms that notably failed to account.
With another round of steps of advancing. There, he finally spotted the door labeled "106," literally the room right at the bottom of the corridor.
It seemed that the innkeeper wasn't lying, the toll of the Hughen's Road did bloom in this inn's business, occupying the rest of the rooms.
With a deep breath, Hank turned the doorknob, wrapped his fingers around it and pushed the door open.
The room was small but cozy, gentle light filtered through the split of the wooden frame window, and the heavy aroma of the warm, earthly wood, with a single double bed and a small table. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
His eyes scanned the room, taking in the simple furnishings. Then, right at the corner, he spotted her. Cassandra was standing by the window, her back to him. She was naked, her body a testament to the hardships she had endured. Scars marred her skin, muscles sculpted through her skin, a true body of a warrior and not some delicate princess.
Meanwhile, Hank froze, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never seen a woman so... exposed. Cassandra turned, her chest flaunted before him, her gaze meeting his. "Oh, you're here just in time," she said nonchalantly as if she hadn't just been caught fully naked.
Her casual demeanor only heightened Hank's embarrassment. His face flushed his sanity plundered, "What… what…" he stammered, unable to find the right words.
"What... what... what are you doing?!" Hank exclaimed eventually, his body instinctively recoiling backward, his eyes bursting with shame.
"Can't you see? I'm taking off the bandages," Cassandra replied, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Then! I... I... I'll wait for you outside!" Hank stammered, turning towards the door.
"Wait!" Cassandra called out. "Before you go, grab me some bandages from the dresser. These were spoiled from the journey."
Hank hesitated, his face flushed. "Sure, as long as you tell me what you're going to do next time," he said, his voice dripping with mortification. "You know I'm staying here with you, right?"
"And?" Cassandra retorted, her eyes narrowing.
"Have some self-respect," Hank snapped. "You're a woman, for crying out loud!"
With a slam of the door, Hank found himself outside, his heart pounding. "What in the world have I just witnessed?" he muttered to himself.
Inside the room, Cassandra couldn't help but be confused. "What's gotten into him? Acting like he's never seen a woman before," she mused. "If it were Gørg, he would've just laughed it off and said something like 'the body of an orc.'"
She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. It was a strange situation, to be sure, but at least she had someone to keep her company.
Meanwhile, Hank, shaken by the experience, mumbled a nursery rhyme under his breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "Green apple ripens on the wood, pineapple ripens on the foot..." he repeated, the words a mantra against his prodigious embarrassment.
A few passersby glanced at him curiously, but their eyes spoke disconcertingly. Hank ignored them, his mind still reeling from the encounter with Cassandra.
To many, Hank was the epitome of a stoic guard, a man who lived for duty and honor, pleasure, and leisure were supposedly scratched from his handbook of living.
Marking his knowledge of the world outside his guardsman training was limited, especially when it came to the intricacies of human relationships, never mind the bare-body of a woman.
After a few moments, Hank finally regained his composure, his mind cleared from those adulterations. He straightened his shoulders and descended the stairs.
Despite straining his way to collect his thoughts, his mind immediately replayed the scene in his head subconsciously. Cassandra, naked and vulnerable, had caught him completely off guard. It was a moment of pure embarrassment, an utter disgrace to the stoic image he had always strived to maintain.
By the time he could cleanse himself from another wave of embarrassment, he reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, his gaze scanning the bustling tavern.
The innkeeper spotted him and called out, "Ay, lad! What can I do for you?"
Hank turned towards him, his face still flushed with embarrassment. "What do you want?" he snapped, his voice a touch harsher than he intended.
"Come on, lad! Loosen up! Stop acting like you're in a war or something!" the innkeeper chuckled, his voice full of good-natured teasing.
Hank's face remained stern. "We're in a dire time," he replied.
"Oh, I get it," the innkeeper said, nodding. "You're one of those sober and stern types. 'Honor and duty,' right?" He burst into laughter, joined by a few patrons at the nearby tables.
Hank's expression darkened. "It's not funny," he hissed.
"Come on, lad, don't be such a stick-in-the-mud," the innkeeper continued. "It's like you've never been in a bar before. It's nothing but harmless banter!"
Hank hesitated, guilt crossing his face. It was true. He had spent most of his life training and guarding, leaving little to no time for socializing. After all, his world only revolved around duty and honor, and the idea of relaxing in a tavern was foreign and expandable to him.
With a sigh, "Anyway, I've got to go now." Hank turned and walked away, leaving the innkeeper's laughter ringing in his ears.
"Don't tell me… You're really one of those types, aren't you, lad?" The innkeeper's voice turned down, pinching the bridge of his nose and swiveling his head, surprised by his speculating traits.
"Come on, lad! Have a seat before you go!" he called out, gesturing towards a stool.
Hank hesitated, his resistance wavering. "Sorry, I don't have time," he replied, his stern expression persisting though it softened slightly.
"Come on, now! Just a bit!" the innkeeper insisted, his voice rising. "I promise it won't take long."
The crowd joined in, urging Hank to sit down. After a moment of hesitation, Hank sighed and capitulated. "Fine," he grumbled, sinking into the stool.
"What's the hurry anyway?" the innkeeper chuckled, pouring a tankard of ale. "You know, it's one of the rules around here. No commotion, no arguments, just fun. A paradise for soothing your worries!"
Hank's expression remained stern. "We're in a dire time, I don't think such amusement could fix that," he replied.
The innkeeper chuckled. "There's always a dire time, isn't there? That's why we need to enjoy the good moments while they last." He slid the tankard across the table. "Here, have a drink."
Hank hesitated, then took a sip. The ale was cold and refreshing, a welcome break from the tension.
"You know," the innkeeper continued, "sometimes it's okay to relax, to let yourself go. It can be the fuel that keeps you going through the tough times. Or well… you never know you would collapse one day."
Hank thought about it. But he resisted the temptation, but his counterpart within spoke volumes, maybe the moment of unwinding was healthy for him.
With a sigh, Hank took another sip of ale. Perhaps the innkeeper was right. Sometimes, a little relaxation was just what he needed.
"At least with these refreshing ales, you can have another day to look forward to now, won't you?"
The innkeeper continued his conversation, "Isn't it, Lüri?" he asked, nudging a dejected drunken patron next to Hank with his elbow.
"Yeah," the man mumbled, his face stuck on the bar. "Another drink, another day to look forward to..."
Hank couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man. He seemed lost.
"He doesn't look alright," Hank commented, his eyebrows raised in skepticism of what the innkeeper said.
The innkeeper laughed. "Nothing's alright in this world," he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "If you've been exposed enough to reality, you'll know how rough it is, how stupid it all is."
"But look a good ol' ale might be your best companion to deal with that! Momentarily fleeing from those perpetual tormenting times. Keeping you sane enough to trek through many more tough journeys ahead!" he continued, his voice flaunting sheer optimism.
Hank's mood sank, "That doesn't sound promising… It sounds irresponsible, sounds like a way of escaping reality, really." He had known the world was harsh, but hearing it confirmed from a stranger's lips made it feel even more bleak.
"Now, now! Sometimes keeping yourself away from this reality is the most humane way to keep yourself sane now, wouldn't you say? After all, sometimes peace is what we conceived, not something naturally blinking out of existence." The innkeeper clarified, his grin stretched further.
Hank sighed, "Anyway, thanks for the drink, I've got to go now," Hank said, standing up abruptly. He finished his drink in a single gulp and reached into his purse for coins.
The innkeeper stopped him. "This one's on the house," he said with a warm smile. "Just remember to stop by again."
Hank nodded, though remained stoic, he felt a sliver of gratitude. As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. Maybe this place, this town, this inn, wasn't so bad after all.