A Magician, a Scribe & a Knight Walk into a Tavern
Darius sat in a corner of Ye Olde Tavern, fruitlessly trying to turn his nuggets of chalk into silver coins. He’d managed two or three previously, but for some reason he just couldn’t get the hang of it. He never had been much of a magician, more of a good-for-nothing, lazy drifter really. He tried, he really did, but he never managed to do very well at anything really. He’d managed to pick up a little trick recently though, a little secret that a fellow magician had… unwillingly shared. All he had to do was practice, and then he’d be able to present himself at court and become The Royal Highness’ most favoured magician! A sudden hush fell over the tavern, just as Darius let out a little cheer, he’d finally managed to turn seven lumps of chalk into fourteen pieces of silver! He looked up to see what had caused the sudden hush and saw a tall, armoured figure hunching through the entrance, followed by a squat man with one hand. Darius dropped his silver pieces, this was it! This was his opportunity! Not only was The Royal Highness’ favourite Knight, Leopold, in the tavern, but their favourite scribe (and many said advisor) Nepomuk was here too!
Nepomuk glanced around the tavern with a barely concealed air of disgust. “What kind of establishment have you brought me to, Leopold? Don’t you know we have to deliver a Very Important Message to a Very Important Person?”. His voice had a nasally quality, the type that screamed ‘I am your superior’ and upon hearing it many eyes in the tavern became firmly glued upon Nepomuk. Leopold shrugged, “it’s the only place we can afford since I, er, well, you know…”. Nepomuk glared at him, the fool had managed to lose all of the money on some ridiculous bet – actually, he didn’t want to think about it – it was just lucky that he had secreted some silver on his person. He took in the room, everyone looked so… poor. A flash of silver caught his eye, and then someone in what would have been considered fine robes fifty years ago came shuffling towards him. “Lord Nepomuk, may I introduce myself? I am Darius, the Magician. Please, come sit at my table, allow me to buy you and your companion an ale”. Nepomuk looked around again at the rather full tavern, “very well, Darius. Very well.”
The three sat down at the table; they made an odd group – a rather round, one handed man; a shining giant and a slightly ruffled, befuddled magician. Still, their evening ended up being an interesting one, with Darius fawning over Nepomuk and ordering the finest of everything the Tavern could provide. He even showed Nepomuk his little chalk to silver trick; and somehow managed to convince Nepomuk to allow Darius to travel with them.
To be continued.
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