Bring out the MoHPs

Thanks for reading! This blog shouldn't be taken too seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

That said, here's where we are:
Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

A tavern. I hesitated, unsure if I should risk the knock or the trip inside. Taverns presented a habitual problem for Broo Fang Tane. The man was on a journey to find peace, but there were still many, many steps ahead of him. 

He sensed my concern. "It will be...well," he said. 

"Well? When was the last time you were in a tavern and it went 'well.' Not since I've known you."

"There is always a...first...time," he said, and pushed through the door.

"Spoken like a true optimist," I muttered and followed him.

The room inside had already gone silent. All eyes were on Tane as he moved across the floor, heading toward an empty table near the far corner. He kept his head down. 

"We're not looking for any trouble," I said. There weren't too many people in the tavern, which I counted as a good thing. I glanced around, still wondering why we had been shown to this place, rather than the audience with the queen I had been expecting. There was nothing regal--or even much that was clean--about it. 

"What are you looking for, then?" A woman behind the counter called it out. She was short, thin, with gray hair pulled into a single tail that hung over her left ear. She wore a stained, vaguely colored shirt over patched stockings. 

"Uhhh..." I was not sure how to answer. 'The queen' seemed like a ridiculous thing to say. Clearly, for some reason, we had been misdirected. I did not think it sensible to brandish the symbol for the Ministry of Human Preservation, either. If there was some code word to utter, I did not know it. 

"How fresh is your spider?" Seymuhr asked, shouldering me aside.

"The spider is always fresh," she answered with, I thought, a touch of pride. 

"Good! Hurry it up, then. A man could starve waiting for a good bowl of spiderfat soup." 

The woman lingered, gazing pointedly at Tane. "Not a word out of you. I know your type and we've got more pressing things on our minds than, than..."her voice rose and she continued in a mocking tone: 'good tidings'."

Tane nodded, a glum gesture, tucked his hands into his sleeves and sat on the bench with his back facing the room. Seymuhr followed him. 

"Worry not," I told her. "We are just here for some food, apparently." Some of the other patrons returned their attention to their bowls, but a few others looked our way, whispered amongst themselves, and snickered. I motioned for Seymurh to lean in. "I don't think I thought this through."

He shrugged. "Perhaps not. But I like this place."

"I think we should leave. This can't be where we're supposed to meet the queen."

"Oooooh, meeting up with the queen, are ya?" The tavern wench said, much too loudly, as she plopped down three bowls of grayish liquid in front of us. "Well, why didn't ye say so? I'll just go and fetch her majesty right away!" She leaned in, cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered in a tone that was half conspiratorial, half understanding. "She's just finishing up some dishes."

"Queen?" I announced with a nervous chuckle. "Why would you say that? Meet the queen. Us? Why would three humble travelers expect to meet with the queen? Why...why we wouldn't presume to speak to so much as a land baron...What I said was 'I hope the meat is clean'."

She blanched at this and the room went deadly silent. "Well now. I serve the finest spider flanks this side of the wall, missie, and I'll cut anyone who says otherwise. Now I can fetch the queen, like I said, but if you're going to go around insulting my food, then we are going to have a quarrel."

I held up my hands. "I meant no disrespect to you or this, um, fine place, madam, I just..."

"So now you call me a madam? Is that it? I defend my business and you suggest I peddle in flesh?" Her voice was rising and more of her customers were looking at us. Some shifted in their seats, as if they were ready to leap at us. 

"No. No. Of course not. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if you do..."

She suddenly lifted her head and cackled, then walked away.

"Pay her no mind," a man had appeared behind me. "She doesn't own the place. Nor does she work here. She just wandered in one day, said her name was Jasper and she had spent most of her life as a goat."

"Explains the laugh," Seymuhr said. 

"But nothing else," I added. "What are you talking about? A goat? She does not work here? Where did she get those bowls of soup?"

"I don't know," the man answered. He was tall, with a belly that hung over his belt and black hair that resembled an overturned plate of noodles. "A better question, for you, at least--and I would think carefully before I answered it--is this: What have you done with my brother? Where is Merrick?"

Through the gate

Thanks for reading! 
This blog shouldn't be taken to seriously. I don't always put a lot of thought into the entries; they are merely a way for me to: (a) test out a few jokes (b) work on dialogue, and scene (c) build up the world of Korin, where my fantasy stories take place and (d) appear busy while I eat lunch, so I can avoid human interaction. Feel free to let me leave a comment or critique. 

That said, here's where we are:
Reunited with their companion, Broo Fang Tane, the freelance historian Esmiralda and Seymuhr, the odd brawler known as Skullsquasher, resume their journey to the palace in Veral Ski, where they would report to Queen Phedora on the death o their companion, Merrick, a leader in the mysterious Ministry of Human Preservation....

The bauble worked, although it took some convincing to get Seymuhr and Broo Fang Tane to come with me. Seymuhr earned the most suspicious looks from the guards at the Noble Gate. They walked around him, slowly, sizing him up and down as if he were a cow they wished to purchase for meat or milk. Both guards were taller than Seymuhr--as was I and, in fact, most adults--but the well-used maces hanging from his hips drew a few questions. In the end, they tied them in place with some stout twine.

Tane, the poor man, was the subject of open scorn and a stern warning. "If you speak one word of cheer, I'll make mittens out of your tongue," the taller of the two guards snarled at him.

"I only have...one," the monk replied. "My...tongue woul...d not make a com...plete pair."

"That's the spirit," the guard answered. 

"Maybe a pirate could use a tongue-mitten," Seymuhr suggested. "Most of them only have one hand, anyway."

"Perhaps," the glum monk agreed.

We fell in step behind two more guards, who had answered a summoning bell as soon as I displayed the symbol of the Ministry of Human Preservation. I was left to wonder about the power of it; even I, a freelance historian well-versed in the ways of Korin and many of its cultures, was not familiar with the secretive group, yet the mere showing of it at the gate was enough to gain us passage. Was it only known to a select few who manned this post? Was it widely acknowledged in Veral Ski? Or had the queen been expecting to hear from Merrick who, until recently, had been an agent of the MOHP?

There was also this puzzle, which I had just entered my mind. Queen Phedora was, technically, my employer. It was her charge to preserve the history of the land that created the mission of the falcuhns to begin with. Falcuhns were people, gifted with observational skills and who could read and write, who were tasked with going out into the world of Korin and documenting what they saw. Why had Phedora not discussed this MOHP with me? Did she not think I was worthy?

I would find out soon. The Shieldsmen took an abrupt turn ahead of us, guiding us off of the main street that led to the primary castle gate. We found ourselves in shadow, following a tight alleyway between two buildings, past piles of stinking garbage. They stopped in front of a door set back into the wall so far that it might not have attracted notice had we not been guided to it.

"What is this? Aren't we to be guided to the queen?"

He gave a stiff nod, then backed down the alley way. 

I looked back to the door. I could hear, barely, the sounds of muted music from the other side, and conversation. I was about to raise my hand to knock on the door when I realized what it was.

"Bones of Barnok," I said, glancing down at Broo Fang Tane, who in no way mixed well with others. "It's a tavern."