Jorikford, 14th of Searing 4614, an inn on the road from Leiden to Dunwich, evening
Andros should have been moving faster than this. It had been two weeks since he gave his mage friend Hakon a swimming lesson and he returned the favor by curing Andros’ arthritis. He should have taken advantage of his more youthful body to make some money. He could have driven hs cart further, hauled more loads in and out, and made more sales. This couldn’t last forever. Soon enough the aches and pains would be back, so best to take advantage while he can.
Instead, he has been enjoying himself. He was spending his nights having the time of his life in tavern after tavern along the road, able to drink without getting a vicious hangover. In the day he found the company of younger men with nothing better to do - swimming, playing ball games, riding, challenging one another to races. It made him feel young again, and rather manly too. He was a head shorter than most men in Radenor, but beating a 20 year old in a footrace was something of an equalizer.
On this particular day he’s spent his time swimming, mostly alone, enjoying how fast he could go and how loose his muscles felt. Then returned in the evening to the tavern where he’d spent the previous night enjoying himself. Unfortunately, his companions from last night had all moved along. A new crowd had moved in. A little rough-looking, he thought. There were three of them, traveling in a group. They said they were from Daravin, which set Andros immediately on edge. He hated the place, not least because he was robbed by a rogue mage the last time he was there.
That wasn’t fair to these travelers though. They weren’t so dangerous. Yes, they had shaved heads, they were all well over 6 feet tall, and they all wore knives openly in their belts. But they were also good company. When Andros sat next to them at the bar, they all got to talking and had a rollicking time. They had good stories, which always pleases Andros. And they liked his stories too, which pleased him more.
Eventually they moved to a table. The biggest Daravain, whose name was Galderic, pulled out a deck of cards and quickly taught Andros a game. He lost the few few hands as he learned, but he had a way with cards and picked it up fast. After another half an hour he’d taken a small pile of coins from his new friends.
But the atmosphere changed as he racked up his winnings. The men’s faces grew dark. They stopped sipping their drinks and glared at him. He realized, perhaps too late, that playing to win had been a mistake. The fun of competition had overwhelmed his good sense.
Andros tried to backpeddle. He took some of his winnings and bought the table another round, then begged off further playing. That seemed to help. So did asking questions designed to flatter the men. You look fit under that leather vest, how do you keep in shape? That knife looks well-made, is it an antique? . They seemed to lighten up a bit. Relieved, Andros went outside to relieve another problem on the side of the building.
Before he could finish his business, he heard footsteps behind him, then felt something sharp press into the back of his neck.
“You’re a thief, old man,” came Galderic’s gruff voice, pitched low and quiet. “You cheated us. Give us our money back or I’ll cut you open like a pig.
Andros buttoned up his pants and tried not to panic. He’d been in worse danger than this. He could figure this out. He didn’t move, lest Galderic drive in the knife, but tried to talk his way out of trouble.
“Boys, it’s just a game. It wasn’t much money anyway. Why don’t we all go back inside and I’ll get us another round or two. We can toast to safe travels and be on our way in the morning. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
