Private Under the Eaves of Pinedew

[Syr Galen Calloway]

Cold autumnal air was already seeping through the closed window. The early morning sun was also peering through the gaps. Galen had been awake before he noticed, that was normal for him. But he did take advantage of the extra rest before the sun came up. Since that time had passed, he decided it was time for his day to start. A groan escaped him as he sat up and threw off the worn blanket. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Galen rubbed his eyes before standing up. He was immediately greeted with the cracking of his knees and back, getting another groan from him.

On his feet, he put on the rest of his clothes. A fresh tunic, then his hauberk, and then the tabard. The rest of the armor he’d add once they were on the road. The belt next, fastened around, yet missing his sword. It was inconvenient to walk around with it in the inn’s hallways, so he had left it off. Packing up his bags, he through it over his shoulder and kept the sword in hand as he left the room.
Down the stairs from the third floor, he found himself in the inn’s common room. A few people were up, but not many. Before settling there, Galen went to the stable outside where his horse was. There were a few other horses there, and a sleeping stable hand was tucked into a corner. They looked up groggily at him as he entered, but he waved them down to stay where they were.

“Morning to you too Typha,” Galen said stepping next to his palfrey, leaving his bags in the corner of the stall. He let a hand trace over his horse’s side before he met their eyes and gave a few pets to their head. “First breakfast and then we’ll be on the road again.” His voice was gentle as he whispered to them before leaving the stable back to the common room.

There was slightly more activity in the common room, a few of the merchants and other travelers had entered and were getting their breakfast. Galen found a seat and and took his spot, setting his sword down against the table. He put both his elbows up and leaned on them as he waited for the next time the proprietor walked by, taking food to some of the others. On their way back he put a few coppers in their hand, asking for the morning stew. He got a gruff nod and then a few minutes later the bowl was delivered in front of him with some bread.

He kept an eye open for his sister-in-arms that was also here, hoping that she would have woken up by now. While waiting he began eating and almost regretted it. The bread was stale and the consistency of the stew was not what he thought. It left him questioning what exactly he was eating, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was better than nothing, and he wasn’t the type to leave it. There was just the hope that he wouldn’t have to be waiting here long for his fellow knight to get downstairs.

The sooner they were up and about, the sooner they could be on their way to Pinedew to begin their investigation

 

[Selene Vera]

“Oh, shut it…”

The little songbird which had perched on the sill of her window only chortled a few extra high notes in response. The absolute bastard. With a heavy sigh, Selene pulled the pillow from over her eyes and finally opened them. Thin spears of dusty light pierced through the window’s closed shutters to trace glowing paths across the ceiling, telling the woman that morning was already well upon her, and the sight elicited a second, albeit slightly more resigned, sigh.

Bastard bird or not, she had best be getting on anyway. No doubt her partner was already awake, likely for some hours even, and she would prefer not to hear about it later while on the road. One bastard was enough for today.

With a lazy flick of her wrist and the smallest tug of the Shroud the shutters briefly rattled, the sudden and frantic flutter of wings on the other side of them bringing the slightest curl of satisfaction to Selene’s lips, as the woman then pulled herself out of bed. She took a moment to lightly stretch and enjoy the subtle warmth of the inside air on her bare skin. In truth, the room was almost foully musty, smelling of old ale and piss and sweat, the bed had been lumpy beyond reasonableness, and the thin wooden walls had left little room for imagination at what the lovebirds next door had been up to for far too much of the night, but…it was still four walls and a roof. Still a modicum of comfort. Knowing Galen, this very well could have been the only one they enjoyed for some time, so Selene took just the slightest of moments to savor it all. Though, gods knew that smell was really making it hard to bear.

Eventually, though, the woman begrudgingly moved to dress from the only chair in the room and the stack of clothing she had carefully laid out upon it the night before. A dark blue tunic and darker pants made of linen were first pulled over her undergarments, feet wrapped and then slipped into tall riding boots, before a long, padded cloth and leather jerkin and accompanying pair of embroidered bracers were pulled over top it all and carefully laced down. A tie of her belt and dagger at her waist finished things. Then, she just stood there, taking a slow, deep breath, almost just to see if she even could. Though it was two years on, dressing like this still felt…restrictive sometimes. Wrong. Uncomfortable in the same way that new clothes felt before they had been properly broken in. Hers, though, were not new. At least, not physically.

Exhaling, Selene turned to grab the bronze locket lying on the nearby nightstand and latched it at her throat with deft, familiar motions. The cold kiss of metal against her breast was somewhat calming as she then tucked it underneath her shirt, pushing such musings aside with a loud click of her tongue.

It was too damn early for an existential crisis.

Throwing the rest of her belongings into her small rucksack, Selene then slung it over her shoulder before exiting the room. The hallway outside was still blissfully sparse with patrons - the privileges of the drunken and aimless on display - and she briskly made her way down the few flights of stairs that separated her room from the inn’s common area. Finding Galen from there was easy work. While a few more folk were milling around here, they were mostly commoners: petty merchants, a few hunters, and the like. The sword leaning against the table he was at was enough alone to set the fellow knight apart from the rest, not to speak of his mail and tabard as well. A few heartbeats later and Selene sat herself down across from the older man, placing her rucksack on a nearby empty chair.

“Galen.”

The man’s name, spoken with a touch of morning resentment, was the closest to a cheery good morning that he was going to get. Leaning forward, Selene then reached out across the table, tearing, with some noted difficulty, a piece off the end of his bread, and then dipped it into the man’s stew before popping the sodden piece into her mouth. She made a face as she chewed. It was…vile almost seemed too nice of a word. Quickly and dismissively waving off the proprietor as they neared - hells no - the woman just about managed to swallow that particular mistake before resting her cheek against a hand.

“Sometimes I wonder if the world would be a decidedly better place if everyone just learned how to properly make use of salt. How many murders and wars do you think were started over a bad bowl of porridge? Can’t be zero.”

She paused, absently tracing a finger across the rough woodwork of the table as she changed subjects.

“We are to reach Pinedew today, no?”