The Inn of Sin

Reiea walked up to the inn, looking up at its doors and then back at her waist. She did not have much money on her... and it was not from around here.

They're a religious brotherhood. They'll take our currency, conscience reassured.

Yeah, that's the problem! wailed conscious. They're a bunch of lunatics with strict codes... what if they have something on foreign coins?

Fine, believe what you will, conscience conceded. She sighed inwardly (as one's mind tends to do), then told conscious, Look. I don't care what you think anymore, okay? Just stop standing here and staring at either the dirt or the scenery. You keep doing this, and it looks awkward.

Conscious was sharp to retaliate. That's because I am awkward! she screamed at conscience. I'm lost, I have no money, no food, and no friends, and I keep having to argue with my moral compass about every little thing!

Whoo, conscience returned. With a mental laugh, she said, Is it that time of month already? Step in the door like a strong woman or walk away like a housewife who can't take liquor.

Conscious drew herself up, indignant. Housewife? Housewife? Resorting to insults, now? You'll pay for that... I'll get you so drunk, you'll never remember today.

Conscience laughed, and neglected to tell conscious that she would forget the day, too.


The Varan woman entered the inn and secured a room and meal. Anyone among the patrons who dared shoot her the wrong look would have his vision quickly directed to her sword and shield, and a rude gesture to boot.

Volquin hitched his horse to the wooden post outside the Inn of Sin and then lazily strolled in. The room was warm as opposed to the the cool Fall weather outside. Some pork roasted over the central fire. Conversations were spoken all about the inn, making it feel busy, but it was not overly loud or obnoxious. Most of the people here were knights, servants of the order, or local civilians of Salem, with a few travelers and merchants.

Volquin sat at the bar and order a mug of ale. He would sip at it slowly, savoring it and enjoying every bit of it.

"Aye!" A half-drunk Brother Knight spun around in his stool. He balanced himself with one hand, while he struggled to keep his drink from spilling with the other one. "Lookin' for the mine then, eh?" The innkeep, whose attention was originally grabbed, turned away and went back to work.

Volquin was drunk, sure, but he was not so drunk as to stammer or stumble; he could handle himself. He took a seat across from max. "Name's Volquin, Brother of the Audrian Order. Was told to muster some men to clear out a mine just past the Vorstuga River. So, ya willin' an' able? Order pays its mercenaries good."