15 – Pyee’s inn

Pyee was located deep inside a valley, nestled between the carved walls of the Turtle mountain range, where the river Ortha had long ago melted away the stone and made the lands fertile and hospitable. Still most of the food that went into the city came from the abundant farmlands to the north and west, through the wide road that eventually plunged deep into the forest and towards the lands of Calamity.

The farmlands stuck to the side of the mountains, for the most part. They were not the most fertile of lands, or the flattest, but the distance from the forest was comforting. The stories coming from the farther lands were not forgotten yet. They were fresh in the memory of all but the youngest, and even in a large city like Pyee, they advised caution, and a healthy dose of fear. Most of the population was of simple origins, and simple living. Farmers, fishermen and miners that worked inside the rich mountains.

Just a few were fighters or adventurers. This led them to, during the days of the Doomsday calamity, call in outside help. Most of the mercenaries and adventurers were already long gone, as gone was most of the profit to be made from the forest and the lands beyond. Some remained, and some were people from Pyee itself, be it the most adventurous and the bravest, or those who did this as their job and calling, and they had taken upon themselves to try and reclaim the lost lands.

They braved the danger in search of riches, fame or just adventure, opening up a path for the rest to follow. And indeed, following just a little behind the professional adventurers; farmers and rangers scouted the lands left behind after the threat was vanquished. The forest, although very well outside of the Calamity wasteland, was home to a large collection of exaggerated stories that gave it its air of danger and mystery. It would be a long time before those stories would be forgotten.

But the greed of men didn’t know of any forest or story that could keep people away for long. And thus, many fields were being farmed, now dangerously close to the forest itself. It was silent and immobile, yes, but no less scary in its dark corners and shadows. The people kept well away at night, and ventured curiously during the day, to see if the news the rangers brought were true.

And they were. The tension of the last years was melting away like snow under the midday sun, and chatter in the inns and pubs was cheerful and optimistic. News from the capital came and went, narrating the lives of far away people and heroes. The ears of the many regulars were always attentive when it came to this kind of gossip, especially the farmers and the simple people who couldn’t help but romanticize the adventures of people who they thought greater than themselves.

There were a great deal of people at the inn when Mateus and Tommy arrived there. Men and dwarves from the nearby mountains, who came here to have some good ale before returning to their settlements under the rocks, after having sold the days’ worth of minerals. The ale here was worse than they were used to, but it was cheaper. The rest of the city was similarly collected in other inns and pubs, and the streets were empty.

Mateus and Tommy had seen this, the deserted streets dark and cold, despite the few lamps that tried to stave off the night. When they entered the inn, and asked for forage and shelter for their horses, the chatter died down for a moment before returning to its usual noise. The heads of the regulars and the drinkers followed the two new faces as they paid for their room and went inside. The innkeeper warned them about some tremors that were happening through town, and not to fear because it was all normal. As soon as they were off, all heads returned to the center of the attention. Most of the men in the room, in fact, had made a large circle around a burly man in an unkept beard and look, and were listening to his stories.

“All right, all right.” Said Pascally Ron, the innkeeper, who most people had come to call Rascally Pom for his love of mischief and all sorts of innocuous yet funny jokes. Jokes that, more often than not, involved some poor sod getting all dirtied up with beer and whatnot, just for the sake of a few laughs. Rascally always made it up for his pranks, some would say that it was even worth it getting pranked by him, all the reparations considered. “One at a time, come on lads, don’t crowd the ranger! Or I’ll have to enforce order.” He said with a sly grin. His face was old and rotund, yet his demeanor and tone of voice had never grown up beyond those of a teenager. “And you all know how I do that.” There was a collective sigh, but order returned.

Up on the second floor, unable to listen to the banter from below, and thankful for that because it sounded like it was going to go on throughout the whole night, the two travelers settled on their beds.

“Handy, your ability.” Tommy said.

“What? Oh, right.” Mateus said. He was feeling a little bit guilty for making money out of his nanites, and even guiltier still when he had it disintegrate into grey ash while still in the innkeeper’s pockets. It was Tommy’s idea, so that they would not leave behind anything that might be used to prove that nanites still existed, but it left a bad taste in the hero’s mouth.

“Don’t be down! Didn’t you see the room below? It was chock full. He won’t even feel the little loss we are costing him.” Tommy said, and this little attempt at cheering him up made him smile a bit.

“You’re right.”

“Handy, as I was saying. What else can you do, beside surviving a blast that would have reduced anyone else into paste, having super strength and making anything you want out of your strange silver?”

Mateus shook his head. “I think that’s it.” He laughed lightly. “It’s more than enough, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. That blast… I saw how you acted after you got wounded by it. It almost got you, didn’t it? You’re hardly even close to the level the doomsday weapon was at its prime.”

Mateus glanced out of the window, and instinctively gazed at the street below, as if he half expected something to go wrong very soon. What the boy was saying was true, and even though he hadn’t really thought about it too much, he was still aware that something was amiss. Maybe it was his humanity that was hindering the nano-robots, or maybe it was something else. A small tremor made the room shake, but he paid it no mind.

Radio.

Uh? Radio? What is it?

It was what made the nanites so powerful before.

Can you make it again?

I am working on it. Knowledge is coming back to me, slowly, and I might soon be able to equip the nanites with radio.

The hero sighed.

Tommy wasn’t pursuing the argument at the moment, and he hardly felt like revealing that he had another entity living inside his mental space together with him. He briefly wondered just how and why was the boy making all those arguments, thinking about things he himself was not paying attention to. Was he the odd one? He remembered the other heroes mocking him for his inability to make tactical decision and strategies, and for his naivety.

Perhaps this was what they were talking about, back then. But then again: should a boy from a frontier village of demi-humans even know these things? It looked like Tommy either had the mind of a strategist, or was educated that way.

Outside, the wind started to sweep the roads. Little plumes of dust rose from the dry dirt, gravel and stones of the town. Pyee, with its many inhabitants, was all inside either homes or inns, as if already aware of the gathering storm that took Mateus, with his enhanced senses and another mind in his head, unaware until it was right above his head.

A storm enhanced by the mana and magic in the air, as was custom in winter. The thunder seemed to be even more ominous, because every time it struck a small tremor followed.

Thunder rolled in the distance, echoing and reverberating against the harsh and steep slopes of the Turtle mountain range, followed by yet another tremor. But inside the inn, gathered around the ranger by the bar, the many farmers miners and the few freelance adventurers paid it no mind. There was news from the capital, there was gossip to be said, rumors and whispers to be spread.

Mateus was sleeping already, dreaming of a strange land he never saw before, exploring its skyscrapers of steel and its machines of fire and heat, while down below the crowd talked and cheered.

“A storm’s coming, I tell ya.” One of the men said.

“Coming?” Rascally laughed, a loud and raspy laugh that was almost unpleasant to hear. “It’s already here.” The thunder shook the windows for a moment. “See?”

“Yeah, well—”

“Well,” a short man, a dwarf said from his stool. “You wouldn’t know, now, you’ve been here drinking for how long?”

“Come on!” He swayed in an attempt to turn towards the offender. “Mipny.” He said, and belched.

“It’s Nipmy.” The dwarf corrected him.

“Whatever. I haven’t been here longer than you have.”

The crown roared in laughter. “That hurts.” The dwarf said. “I spend my days cooped up under the mountains, mining the ore, making the town so big and rich, and you dare say that to me?” he tried to get up, but eventually failed.

“Order!” Rascally shouted, bringing another round of beers steaming hot from the kitchen. Another little tremor made them almost topple over and spill their contents on the ground.

“It always gets worse when the mana is upset in the air.” The innkeeper muttered.

The others paid him no mind. Feeling menaced, the dwarf fixed his beard. “Rite, rite, geez.” He retreated, fearing the treatment that could arrive at any moment in the form of a steaming and sticky shower.

“As he was saying, before y’all interrupted him so rudely, our friend ranger brought news from the Capital. Isn’t that right?”

One of the fishermen, who had worked all day by the river Ortha and was just now allowing himself to relax a bit here, making him among the most sober in the room, shushed the rest of the unruly and yelling crowd.

“Lads, shut the hell up. This ought to be interesting. I heard those returned heroes have been up to a few pranks and mischief themselves.”

“Victims. That’s what they were.” The ranger said.

“Yeah, sure. Victims, the heroes? And what would that make us poor sods?”

“Nipmy! Silence. He’s speaking.”

“Tell them, then!” The dwarf yelled. “That those teenager assholes get their nobility titles and their pretty land while we rot here, working all day.”

“First off, they ain’t teenagers. Well, mostly. I agree that they are all a bunch of inbred rascals and so forth, but they saved all of us, didn’t they?” one of the usually quiet men said, getting to his feet before being dragged back down by his wife next to him.

“You side with them, Lorry? We work hard here, and yet nobody even thinks to thank us.”

“Come on.” The innkeeper said, removing the alcohol from the dwarf’s reach. “Enough of you. If you keep this up, I’ll have you take those useless remarks elsewhere.”

The dwarf grumbled, but stayed silent.

“Yes,” the ranger began. “They have been made nobles. There was a grand ceremony, in the stadium and all. But that ain’t the juiciest part.”