Chapter 203: Storytelling (4)
"So that is what became of you." Ronan pushed Ger off him and hopped back to his feet as he stared at Axel and registered his side of the events leading to how they came to be now. He never did find out until just this moment. "Cilv could have killed you."
"Could have," Axel replied pensively. "But she didn’t. I’m not saying what she has done is right, but we know nothing of the lass. We do not know what life she has lived-"
"Spare me of this talk, Axe. I will not think more of it. She is not some girl needing to be rescued. She may ’steal to survive’, but Cilv got greedy and made her choice," Ger snapped, glaring at Axel from his position on the ground. He extended his legs out towards the fire, sitting with one bent knee, resing an outstretched arm while refusing to look at him again, watching the blue flames instead.
Evanna looked down at her gloved hands. She was conflicted by the battle of emotions in her chest. She understood Axel’s point clearly, feeling some sympathy for the shapeshifter but then she thought of the gem and her dying mother, and she quietly stared at the flames like Ger. Cilv chose gold over a life and that she could not forgive her for.
The camp had grown quiet at the mention of their former ’comrade’. Evanna didn’t like it. She didn’t want her reunion with her friends to turn so gloomy, leaving each to their own thoughts. "What happened next?" She asked, not directing her question to anyone in particular.
Ronan cleared his throat. "I went to the Rose and Crown the following morning without Axel and Ger. They did not return, but I wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity.."
Like usual, greying clouds loomed over the streets of Kuramji, as though the miserable town itself could not go without a day of rain, snow or storm. But Ronan could not deny that maybe it was a blessing in disguise as the rain washed away the stench and dirt of the streets. With the morning sun barely shining out of the rain clouds, Ronan set off to the Rose and Crown.
He remained hidden, his hood covering his features even though the streets were sparse. The only life was of vendors readying their stalls and grubby-looking street urchins returning from a night of thieving or preparing themselves for the day ahead. Ronan continued, going down twists and turns of streets until he found himself in front of the inn ten minutes early.
Slipping inside the inn so early caused a stir of curses, pans and cutlery echoing through double doors that he presumed was the kitchen. "We’re not open!"
No, they weren’t. Ronan glanced at the empty bar, stools and chairs lifted on the tables. A burly man with a shaved head and long beard burst through the doors, a mallet in one hand and knife in the other, a white apron tied to his front. "Get out. There are no vacancies, and the bar ’n kitchens not open for another four hours."
Ronan placed his hand in his pocket, the action too quick for the man who raised the mallet, ready to defend himself. "What if I am not here for food, beverage or bed?" Ronan pulled out a large coin purse and shook it. The man’s arm faltered, his eyes looking intently at the small bag. "I will not be a nuisance. Do you know the meeting this morning.. Sir?"
"I am no sir nor gentleman. Ruth is me name. Will that small bag cover any damage to my inn?" The man responded gruffly, still expecting there to be trouble. Ronan’s lips twitched. It was Kuramji, so he could see the man’s reasoning for such reluctance to get involved.