Page 15 of The Song of Sunrise
Long Meadow Inn
Redrock is a relatively large town nestled between the pine covered hills and the Grass Plains that expand toward the western horizon. Breaking the two landscapes with a sprawling village centered around a small grid of mismatched store fronts, inns, and taverns.
With the Grass Plains taking up the majority of Midland, the Lus’Civitas devalues the territory compared to its Eastland large cities and Westland lavish culture and riches. They will never admit their favoritism, but it is apparent in the lack of infrastructure investment leading to deteriorating village walls and roads—and apparently—abandoned WatchTower posts. Even Goldenpine, as one of the main trading hubs of the north, has been slowly crumbling.
There has to be something I can do. It’s one thing to be overlooked by the Lus’Civitas, but another entirely to be left undefended, attacked by the Underworld.
A territory that is supposedly our allies!
The Lus’Civitas must not know about these attacks. That is the only logical conclusion as to why they aren’t holding the Underworld accountable for their actions. I have to believe it.
“The Long Meadow Inn is right up here,” Leaf says as we pass through a heavily armed gated entrance. Like Goldenpine, the town is surrounded by brick walls, except this one is fortified and still functioning. City officials are walking along the parapet, patrolling the entrance with rapt attention.
It’s as if I’m walking through an ancient village in my Tellings. Holdings where the humans once defended their territories against the Elves during the Great Wars. The time after the Breaking, yet before the New World Peace Treaty was signed between the humans, Elves, and Underlings and territories were drawn.
The Humans Territories were split in three: Midland, Westland, and Eastland. Then Elven Tribes to the expansive north and Underworld Courts maintained control underground.
Peace at last. Though I’m beginning to suspect otherwise based on the extra amount of security.
The huge metal portcullis opens as we walk into Redrock.
Though it is well past nightfall, many townsfolk are frequenting the shops, all of which appear to be made from a variety of materials. Some wooden, some stone, but most uniquely, they all seem to be painted in a variety of once-bright colors now muted by years of enduring harsh winters. Through the window of one establishment, two women are being measured with large swaths of matching orange fabric. Across the road, a merchant is selling sugar-dipped pastries to giggling children likely awake well past their bedtime. Music flows from a large stone tavern up the slightly inclined road.
An aura of excitement charges the air. People are laughing, dancing and eating. I cannot help but be enthralled by the livelycommunity of Redrock, already imagining how I could spend my days exploring the different shops.
You would never know that another town two days’ ride from here was raided and pillaged. As I take in the sights, I bite my cheek until the copper taste of blood fills my mouth.
This is real.
Marrow is gone—I take a long shuddering breath—and I am safe.
Leaf leads us down another block to a three-story wooden building that is squished between two other much larger establishments, as if the owners decided to make the space work to the best of their abilities after the fact. The large front porch is sloping significantly, but no one seems to mind.
Two people in thick cotton aprons jump from rocking chairs on the far side of the porch to take our horses to the stables around back.
As we walk up the creaking stairs, Castor and Leaf take off their blue Watcher cloaks and tuck them discreetly under their arms.
I’m not so sure that will really make them less noticeable. Two tall, muscular men walking in, carrying at least tenvisibleweapons a piece and splattered in blood, isn’t exactly discreet.
I suppose I also might not look too great right now either. I look down and cringe at the sight of my beautiful white dress now stained with blood, mud, and who knows what else.
I blow away the loose strands from my braid and let out a breathless chuckle. We must look utterly ridiculous.
Leaf leads the way through the foyer. I follow, and Castor trails behind me, placing a light hand on my back for support or comfort or protectiveness, I’m not sure which.
But I don’t… hate it.
I try not to fixate on his fingers practically searing through the thin fabric of my dress.
A small check-in desk is nestled in the corner of the crowded room, and I’m hit with a fierce sense of familiarity. Like I’ve been here before. Or at least have an unspoken kinship with these people.
The entire floor is bustling with staff carrying large trays of food, half-naked women sitting on the laps of customers, burly men massaging the shoulders of travelers and townsfolk, and a smattering of occasional cats.
What type of Inn is this exactly?
As if hearing my thoughts, Leaf gives us a sly smirk over his shoulder before turning back to the desk, his shoulders bouncing in laughter.
“How can I help you, sir?” the boy behind the desk asks. He has to be no older than thirteen. It’s normal for children to work, but in a place with so much exposed skin, it seems a little… odd.
