I shook as much water as I could get off myself before a serving woman smiled warmly and waved me over to a table.
"Thanks, Ella, how's the business today?" I asked sliding into my seat.
"Eh, same people as always," Ella said with a shrug. "Now, can I start you off with anything or are you just waiting out the rain?" she asked with a knowing smile.
My cheeks colored, and I gave her the usual response. "Maybe tomorrow, Ella. A little short on coin today."
Ella gave a sad smile and walked away to the other several patrons crammed in the small serving space. I recognized the usual bunch of men: those who drank to drink, those who drank to escape their wives, and those who drank to escape reality.
Another clap of thunder sounded just as the door burst open and a new guest entered. Looking around the same age as me, the young man was clad in a soft green robe accented by gold swirls. Huh, I didn't think anyone from Dravenfall would come the week before the Acceptance… I thought to myself. Usually they would wait as long as possible to avoid our "stingy rooms" as those attending from years past had commented. Behind the young man appeared a rough looking soldier, most likely a bodyguard.
Both took a step into the establishment before flipping their hoods back and attempting to dry their hair. The young man, likely as close as you could get to nobility in Dravenfall, a town marginally larger than Aurelia, ran his fingers through tough locks of chestnut brown hair. After a few moments, the possible noble and assumed bodyguard followed Ella to one of the couple booths round the back of the tavern, passing right by me. I caught her flashing them her best hostess smile. Finished jotting down their order, Ella bustled herself back behind the counter and into the kitchen.
After Ella disappeared, one of the men drinking, Elijah, set his cup down and stood suddenly. He stumbled towards the new arrivals. Letting out a belch, Elijah tripped on a loose floorboard and barely managed to catch himself on the chair of the table in front of him. One of the men enjoying their drink at said table pushed him away with an angry mutter. Elijah straightened himself as much as possible, ran a hand through his greasy hair, and then continued his adventure. Before he got two steps closer, the soldier type of man stood suddenly.
"Woah, woah, woah, no need for aggression, guys. All I'm trying to do is let you two know that your coin bag is lookin' a little heavy. I would love to take it off your hands, no problem." Elijah slurred, putting his hand to his chest.
"No need," the man in black stated.
"If I'm being honest, it wasn't optional…"
Elijah slipped his hand to the back of his trousers and pulled out a curved sickle-like dagger.
"Elijah, stop this. You know how uncomfortable the jail cell is! Don't start something you're not reckoning to finish. You know just as soon as the sheriff comes, you're going straight back to that cement block of a bed." This comment came from one of Elijah's drinking buddies.
"Stop, stop, stop. You know I need this money, Ron. Else I'll be forced to become one of those wandering beggars, going from here to any town with generous people." Elijah's voice wavered as his eyes flicked from Ron to the man in front of him.
Elijah took another step, but before he could use any more words of "encouragement," everything froze, literally. I gasped as the room's temperature plummeted by what felt like twenty degrees. Frost crept across the wooden floorboards, and the torches all hissed as cold crossed the room in ripples. Elijah was locked in place as he finally studied the man in front of him. What he found was not a stoic soldier, but instead a mage with a floating grimoire, its pages turning of their own accord.
Although the tavern had quieted from the moment Elijah had pulled his knife, the silence became deafening when a grimoire appeared. The only time anyone saw a mage was when the acceptance commenced. Then a single "organizer of magic" would visit to ensure the proceedings unfolded correctly.
Elijah quivered, covered in the blue ethereal light emanating from the open book. The light illuminated the rest of the room as well casting a glow upon mugs of ale and their shocked buyers. Looking to the man's waist, I realized the mage had cleverly hidden his grimoire in a nondescript satchel wrapped around his midsection.
"L-look I didn't mean nothin' okay? I wasn't actually going to cause any harm. You know that right?" Elijah stammered as his eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.
"Cause no harm? Is that what the knife's for? Hm? Do you know what the punishments are for threatening a mage?" He prompted, stepping closer. The floorboards crackled under his boots, coated by a thin layer of ice.
"Ruel, calm down, you can see the man's about to soil himself." The young man finally spoke up with a shake of his head.
How can he be so disinterested when a man just tried to rob him? I thought incredulously. Then I reasoned that having a bodyguard could indicate a pattern of e.
"Listen Acklin, your daddy's paying me to stop things like this from happening, so give me room to work, alright?" Ruel replied as if he was babysitting a toddler. Acklin dealt with, Ruel began flipping through his grimoire, the blue light casting shadows on the wall behind him. Another bang of thunder and flash of lightning only furthered the fear striking the room. The fear was apparently too much for Elijah, who turned to make a run for it.
"Icicle entrapment," Ruel stated, having landed on a page within the grimoire.
Blue symbols flared on the grimoire, and another blast of cold blue energy flashed through the room unfurling from Ruel's feet in a semicircle. Elijah was immediately stopped as spears of ice raced up from the floorboards to halt his movement. The ice glittered under the grimoire's light, cold and unyielding, just like it's owner.