Page 82 of I Ran Away to Evil
For you.
I’m just a humble bard, they say.
But, Adventurer, I’m on my way!
Bronwynn the Bard, my best friend back home, also known as Brownie, had released an entire new evening’s worth of songs for her performance at Peldeep’s Lunar New Year show. It must have been a huge success if people were already starting to sing the lyrics here.
I, of course, had gotten to listen to all of the songs before anyone else.
We waved Lady Amy off. General Quinton arranged the guards, and Keith tucked my hand into his arm.
“Ready for the best stew in the entire Dark Enchanted Forest?” he asked.
“Lead the way.”
Keith took a second to wish the General of the West a good evening with his children, and then he led me up the road to the Damp Gizzard.
I wasn’t expecting things to get steamy. I also wasn’t expecting the glitter.
And I certainly wasn’t expecting the musical number.
CHAPTER 52
A Real Princess
Keith
Keith led Ria through the main street of Gren’s Keep and pointed out the shops that might interest her.
Keep was a bit of a misnomer, as it was the remnants of an old fortress once owned by Grendelyn the Grey. He’d been a crotchety old sorcerer who’d collected interesting people. The people, including an unorthodox amount of beastfolk, had not been impressed.
They’d burned it down and cleared it out and built a quaint country town on the spot of the ruins. It had been the first metropolis of beastfolk on the continent, and over the generations, more people had moved there. Apparently, they kept the name because the old sorcerer had always despised being called Gren.
And then the Pixie Prim had moved in.
The entire city now overflowed with flowers and vines and beautiful gardens thanks to the influence of the Prim. Even the Damp Gizzard had morning glory dangling off its low-hanging eaves.
Keith gently guided Ria off to the side of the entrance as he pushed open the front door to Olen’s place. A mug missed his head by a full hand’s length and crashed into the street.
There was a brawl going on inside that came to a comical stop when Keith walked in. A partially transformed bearman in the process of wrestling an angry drunk ratkin to the ground looked up at them. “Yer Viciousness, I didna see you there!”
“Don’t stop for me, Olen. I’ll grab us a seat.” Keith brought Ria over to a table against the wall close to the bar.
“Oh, is Olen from the north country?” Ria asked upon hearing his dialect. It resembled the folk north of the Baldorin mountain ridge. “And did that otterfolk just smash Olen over the head with a chair? What if he breaks the chair?”
“He has to pay for it or repair it,” Keith replied. He contemplated pouring them a cup of water while they waited, but Olen had already tossed the drunk ratkin out the conveniently still open door and picked up the otterfolk to do the same. They would have their drinks shortly. “And I think he inherited the Gizzard from his uncle. He moved here about a decade ago to take over. If I’m remembering his paperwork correctly, he’s from the bearfolk village, Orsons Pass.”
Olen Orrin clapped his hands together twice and wiped them on his apron. He gave the room an intense once over to make sure no one else was getting uppity. Either Keith’s presence had settled things down, or no one else was in the mood.
“Sorry about that, my liege.” Olen picked up the not-broken chair and pulled out a notepad that looked tiny in his giant bear paws. “What can I get you for dinner?”
“Let’s start with drinks. Ria?” Keith tried to get his princess’s attention.
Ria was staring, captivated by the bearman’s clothes. “What? Oh. Did you know I have the same apron?”
Olen gave a self-satisfied grin. “Did you win it off Gerda in a tablero game?”
“No!” Ria laughed, and Keith settled back, enjoying her enjoyment. “She gave it to me after we baked bimbleberry scones together. What’s tablero?”
