Damsel Indeed

9. No Rest For the Weary

The village of Pilk was a shamble of peasant houses leftover from a once thriving farming fief. Their lord having been overthrown and the castle burnt until all was left but the bare black stones of its fortress walls, the serfs had shrugged their shoulders and decided the land was as good as theirs. They'd built, planted more trees for coverage, and soon had themselves an excellent tax free way of life with a town hall where they could sort out their problems without some know it all's interference.

It was a market day when the trio arrived. Stalls of wares and people traipsing between them. A small inn was in the main square and its dining hall boasted the smells of stewed meat and garlic butter. It didn't matter they'd eaten heartily this morning, Merit went straight for it.

"The Boar's Snout has the best mead and grassflower wine this side of the mountains, gents. Anything you order will be good, but I always try the special."

Eric chuckled at the two as their steps matched in a quick pace.

"Hungry? Merit, I do believe you are easily swayed by good food."

He didn't grace his question with an answer, but when Philip got to the door before him he did have a hand on the hilt of his sword. The prince pondered this and wondered if Merit was small because he'd grown up poor and had to fight for every scrap. Or if he was like the blond giant and had so many siblings he had to fight them off his food.

Inside the Hog's Snout was a much livlier crowd than the inn they'd stayed at last night. Being a market day, merchants and craftsmen from the area who'd traveled here were piled in to enjoy the lunch rush. Even a few cold lunch pails could be seen cast to the side in favor of this kitchen. One look at the plates and bowls scattered throughout, and you knew why.

"Two meads and a grassflower wine."

The barkeep wriggled his mustache as if it had tickled him and blinked.

"Merit! Good seeing you! Since when do you have friends to bring here?"

Eric smirked at the man and offered a hand in greeting.

"Rick, and this is Pip. We're being shown some trade routes by this fine man."

The man, who introduced himself as Wigglesworth, took it and shook it with a brawny hand and a wide grin.

"No finer will you find these parts. Merit here is a regular whenever he happens to find work this side. Cleaned up a few messes and kept the peace even. You're in good company. Just don't touch his plate."

"Anyways..." Merit cut off their chatter.

"Right, there's a table upstairs for you in the balcony. I'll bring up your drinks and three specials and a basket of bread."

"Many thanks, Wig."

The three made their way through the din and up the wide plank stair. Merit seemed far more at ease here. Not looking over his shoulder or seeming to check his weapons like he was won't to. They found the bare table and pulled out the benches to sit. It was quieter, with no one else present.

"I take it he doesn't know you're a highwayman?"

Merit merely shrugged, staring at a painting off to the side.

"This place seems to love you, why not just stay here and keep it clear of the rabble?"

His fists clenched and he pulled his arms back to cross over his chest. Eric thought he saw a vein in his temple twitch, but couldn't tell with the lighting.

"They don't really know me. If they did, they'd know what would happen if I stayed."

The ginger pursed his lips and crossed his own arms, bringing a knuckle to his mouth as he contemplated this. Whatever it was his friend was hiding from, he was sure his status and kingdom could protect him. But was Merit just being overly cautious? Perhaps his past was darker than even he could see.