A small tavern, weathered and built of old timber was squished between two stone buildings, an unassuming place, not adorned with any intricate carvings or any meaningful embellishments, but a rather modest establishment with a plain sign board lifted high above its entrance, that creaked ever so slightly in the breeze, with faded black ink the sign wrote "Garth's tavern". It was old, older than most of the buildings that lined the cobblestone streets alongside it, visitors who hurriedly passed by didn't understand its value, while locals would flock to the place as night fell, a refuge for the common folk to share stories and banter, while enjoying the rich aroma of finely brewed beer and freshly baked bread.
The subtle smell of aging wood and the smoke from the fireplace lingered in the air, mixing with the strong musky smell of spilt ale. The loud chatter of the tavern's patrons was occasionally interrupted by the clacking of mugs, and the soft crackling sound of the fireplace in the corner.
Jim looked around before locking his eyes on the familiar backside of Michael, alone in the corner.
"Micheal, yer hear 'em priests talk lately?" Jim leaned in, his voice rough and aged but it hung with a hint of intrigue, as he sat down and gestured for a drink.
Michaels long fingers hovered over his drink, eyes fixed forward, as if he'd heard the talk before. He let out a heavy sigh, "you as well, huh?"
"Yeah, Been seeing them prancing around everywhere lately, preaching whatever nonsense been flying about" Jim retorted
Micheal's brows narrowed "you know my brother-in-law?"
Jim smirked, " the fat one?"
"Yeah, that's the one" Micheal muttered, shaking his head "he's as dull as a brick, and twice as loud. bloody idiot can't get through a meal without turning it into a sermon"
Jim chucked, taking a swig of his bear "figured he'd at least be silent when he ate…. considering his size and all"
"Ha, if only" Micheal's voice dropped, "his got opinions I'll tell you that, and not the ones worth listening to"
Jim leaned back on his stool, staring at the wooden ceiling, before straightening his gaze "It's that bad huh?, I'd just enjoy the show, the worlds never too short on fools these days"
"You can say that again," Micheal snorted, "but enjoy?" His eyes knitted together, " the man's a walking mouth. He can't hold a spoon, without Blessing this, cursing that, and he's convinced he's got all the answers. Yesterday, he was going on and on about how the gods must be punishing us with a "flood", cause we're not devout enough?"
Jim grinned slightly "Flood? my yard's been drier than a desert, ain't nothin been growing lately, and he's calling it a flood?".
Micheal grabbed his cup and took a slow drink before replying "that's exactly what I told him, but oh no.. it's a 'spiritual flood', whatever the hell that means"
"Priests must be preaching well aye" Jim laughed, as he placed his empty cup on the table, gesturing for a refill
Micheals eyes tightened "it's not even that, everyone's been on edge lately, with the war and all, and the priests know this, you ever wonder why they ain't preaching goodness anymore"
Jim's chuckle slowly turned into a sigh. He stared at his bear watching the foam settle, ".... ain't nobody good anymore these days, and the priest least of all, all they've been spouting lately, been about the end days"
Micheal turned his head to look around the tavern before leaning in "all they care about is lining their pockets, a greedy bunch, feeding on others fears, while more men get called to the army, their filling their bellies and getting fat" Micheal's grip tightening on his cup.
The news of pending war had loomed over the common folk for months now, and the encroaching stench of death was getting ever so closer. The Priests had banded together but rather than spread the world of the gods, they spread truths mixed with lies, twisted words and made it sound as if the world was ending, calling it a plague, upon which humanity will die. Many ignorant fools bought into it and began going crazy, crazy with the falsehood of salvation if they donated to the church, it was mass hysteria, and the war had yet to truly reach them.
"Ain't that the truth" Jim's tone dimmed, "but they should fear the king more no ?, a bloody butcher he is" whispering under his breath.
Micheal learned in his voice hushed "Honestly butchers an understatement, I'd heard he watched the villages burn and smiled"
"Good thing the dukes are marching, Huh?, been hearing the priest calling them devils lately, I'd take the devil over a butcher any day" Jim's voice resolute and serious.
"Dukes?, ha," Micheal spoke in a bitter manner, " there's always something else. You think the dukes care about us? About the people? Hell, they're probably just as bad as the king. They've got power, the money and influence but they wage a war, people are dying Jim, maybe devils a fitting moniker"
The news of the marching Dukes was spreading like wildfire, though truths were hard to come by, everyone knew that the two most powerful men beside the king were in open rebellion and opposing the crown's power. The priests who were on the crowns side, spread blasphemous rumors about the dukes, preaching how the dukes were the spawn of evil, 'how they rose up to defy the very gods themselves', it made people around Hatbanth fear and detest the dukes, though Priests spoke nothing but lies, to the common people they were nothing but the utter truth, but in truth anyone with even an ounce of integrity knew otherwise, and a movement was beginning to surface those that wanted the current king gone.
Jim stared at his mug filled with beer, his weathered and worn hands hovering above before grabbing it and chugging it down in a single go, "I'd take the dukes any day, 'em common folks didn't deserve to die, ya hear the stories, the screams? king killed them in cold blood, better a sane man then a bloody killer". Jim's face flushed red, slurring his words
"Quiet down" Micheal scanned the room " never said I'd prefer the king, it's just people are dying, men of the north, hard working men".
Micheal loved the north and its people who worked tirelessly to uphold the kingdom, and he detested the idea of a war pitting northern brothers to kill each other over some petty noble squabble for power.
"Ha, please, ya a king lover now? damn loyalist, bloody why yer ain't got a woman to warm your bed" Jim's eyes were flickering open and shut, his head swaying back and forth, like a ship on the open seas.
"Mmhmmm!" A voice in front of them grunted, it was the barkeep, he gave the two men a sharp and long stare, while cleaning a mug with a rag, he had a tall and intimidating presence with a scar running the length of his face.
"Quiet down you two" the barkeep spoke, in a deep and commanding tone "want the whole damn tavern to hear your thoughts?, get gone if yer gonna cause scene"
Micheal looked at Jim, his lips clenched shut and eyes tight, he let out a loud sigh, "we'll get going, here's the payment"
The barkeep gave Micheal a slight nod, as he reached out to grab the coins.
" Jim we're leaving, ya hear, bloody drunk"
Jim didn't reply, his head kept swaying, Micheal helped him get on his feet, pushing with all his strength to get the much bigger Jim to stand, and they made their way towards the door as Jim struggled to walk and started to ramble about nonsense, "shut up" Michael spoke as he tightened his grip on Jim.
Micheal opened the door As a gush of cold air swept past them, chilling them to their bones, it was dark out, the cobbled streets were barely lit by the illumination of the half crescent moon above being half covered by dark clouds that lined the night sky, shadowy figures could be seen pacing about through the streets, some held lanterns that created a subtle glow, the cobblestone streets exuded an earthy musk that filled the air outside, with other unpleasant smells in the mix, Micheal could still hear the chatter within the tavern, however as they began the chatter slowly faded out to the sounds of night life, though the lingering thought of the looming war hung over him.