Greenwood's Favorite Inn

In the Realms, inns held a special place. In nearly every medieval or fantasy story, the protagonists stopped at an inn, met all sorts of people, stumbled into all sorts of trouble, filled their bellies with ale, bread, and roast meat, then rested for the night before setting out again.

More often than not, they even recruited their companions at an inn rather than at the Adventurers Guild.

Were those protagonists out of their minds?

Not at all. The real reason was that an inn—or tavern—was a better place to recruit companions than the Adventurers Guild. An innkeeper's network of personal connections was far more reliable. He could find you suitable teammates and vouch for them.

Likewise, a large coaching inn like the Kalan Inn was far more than an ordinary inn.

Its keeper, Tama-Choya, owned a fortress with walls three meters high. Besides serving as an inn and tavern, it was a freight station and part of a trusted supply chain.

The innkeeper was also a merchant and part-time notary, offering safekeeping and services much like a bank's.

An inn was a trading center too. Merchants often struck deals at large coaching inns out in the wilds. It was also a relay station where royal messengers stopped and patrols rested.

Finally, inns were vital places for social life in the Realms. People gathered to share news and opinions, making them breeding grounds for culture and politics. Secret societies often sprang up in inns, bathhouses, and similar places.

That was true in the Realms, and it had been true from the Middle Ages well into modern times.

"When German could be heard in the tavern..."

—A classic joke

Sometimes these groups were benevolent. The widely respected clerics of Ilmater, for instance, often appeared at inns to raise money from the rich and offer Divine Magic and much-needed charity to the poor.

Other times, such groups preferred clandestine activities. Evil clerics, for example, were forever trying to please their deities, even if it meant stirring up unrest.

All this gave the keepers of large inns considerable standing in the Realms. They were often charismatic, influential local celebrities: members of a city's elite, powerful allies of the local nobility or at least servants of some status. They also acted as guarantors, notaries, and trade brokers.

So when Tama-Choya, the Half-elf innkeeper, took Aaron by the arm to introduce him to everyone in the common room, Aaron had to do him the courtesy.

They pushed open the inn's doors. Roughly twelve to fifteen long tables filled the spacious hall, where at least thirty travelers were enjoying dinner. Among them were three elves who, judging by their dress, appeared to be Sun Elves from Cormanthor. Even these people, notorious for their arrogant prejudice, could not help giving the radiant Aaron a second look. They marveled that humans could be handsome or beautiful too, if rather less often.

Candles and oil lamps were already lit. Aaron was surprised by the hall's lofty ceiling and magnificent crystal chandelier. The scents of ale and food washed over him, along with the reek of rotting wood and human waste—a complicated blend of sweat, urine, bad breath, and body odor.

The innkeeper had tried hard to mask it with rose petals and lavender, but Aaron immediately noticed the keen-sensed young cleric wrinkle her nose.

The last of the Salians stood beneath the chandelier and greeted the people in the inn.

"Dragons soar over Cormyr, and warhorses race through the birch woods. Aaron Salian, son of Manuel, greets you all. Cormyr welcomes you!"

His Extraordinary Charisma quickly won over most of the room. When he wished everyone a pleasant evening, scattered applause even rose from the long tables.

By then, darkness had fallen outside. The Bard, whose performance Aaron's arrival had interrupted, resumed playing his Tambura and oud. He told the famous epic "The Archmage Elminster's Torrid Affair with Queen The Simbul."

Elminster was a legendary archwizard known throughout the Realms, a Chosen of the Second Goddess of Magic and wielder of Silver Fire. Even Aaron, who knew little about the Realms beyond a handful of web novels inspired by works inspired by yet other works, knew his name.

The Bard was supposedly telling the archwizard's epic tale: how, during the Time of Troubles, he had drawn on the remaining power of the Second Goddess of Magic to defeat Bane, kill Myrkul, guide the world toward peace, and oppose evil.

But the Bard skimmed over every part Aaron wanted to hear.

Instead, he went into lavish detail about how Elminster had gotten together with The Simbul, one of the Seven Sisters of the North, what concoctions he had used, and how he had cast Enlarge on himself to show the queen he still had it in him.

He dwelled especially on how they had fallen for each other. How had the peerlessly beautiful queen of Aglarond, who always wore ragged clothes and kept her hair in a mess, ended up with Elminster? How had the mysterious The Simbul, one of the Seven Sisters of the North, become involved with an archwizard who had walked the mortal world for more than a thousand years and left countless epics and legends behind? How had sparks flown? How had they met in secret in the forests of Cormanthor and enjoyed holidays in the Dalelands? The Bard spared no detail.

He even made several suggestive gestures onstage, drawing cheers from the entire hall.

Aaron smiled helplessly and joined the applause.

He really was interested in Elminster.

In his previous life, he had known little about the Forgotten Realms. Aside from the familiar deities, the Time of Troubles that nearly every writer mentioned, and Netheril, he could name only two people from the official setting: Drizzt, the Drow Ranger, and Elminster, the Sage of Shadowdale.

Drizzt almost never appeared in the web novels. Their authors did not seem particularly fond of him.

Elminster, on the other hand, received sharply divided reviews.

Some writers saw him as a great sage, a guardian of peace, and a remarkable Mage. He had played a pivotal role in many major events—the Gandalf the White of the Realms.

Others thought Elminster was a useless coward. Despite receiving the Goddess of Magic's love and power, he had done next to nothing. Though one of the greatest archwizards in the Realms, he had rarely acted personally since growing old. Instead, he sent novices into deadly danger under the guise of guidance, while he stayed in his tower in Shadowdale enjoying tobacco, fine wine, and the long life granted by the Goddess of Magic's divine power.

Aaron wanted to hear Elminster's story, not gossip about his love life!

Ignoring the young cleric's forbidding aura, Aaron led her to a seat in the corner of the hall, smiling all the while.

She wanted to punch him. Badly.

"This is the sort of thing you people like, isn't it?" After what had happened earlier, the young cleric was clearly in a foul mood. Aaron could hear the displeasure in her voice even through her mask.

Not far away, Ferrara, Montero, and the others were having a wonderful time. They loudly demanded that the Bard describe Queen The Simbul's favorite position. Golden Lions bearing the likeness of the former king, Azoun IV, flew onto the stage one after another, and the Bard beamed.

"What else?" Aaron signaled a server over to take their order. Handsome and smiling, his eyes gleaming violet-gray, Viscount Salian asked, "Would you rather the Bard talk about the Sage's plans, his magic, or how he negotiated among the great powers and used the Harpers to balance good and evil? Would they understand any of it? Even if they did, would they want to hear it?"

The young cleric fell silent. Pressing her pretty lips together, she nodded reluctantly and looked toward the Bard, who had won cheers and a fair number of tips. "I know. He has to eat. He has to make a living."

More than eighty percent of the humans in the Realms could not read. Waterdeep and Silverymoon, both in the Lords' Alliance of the North, had the highest literacy rates, and even there they barely exceeded forty percent. Everyone else was illiterate.

People could not follow complicated subjects like arcane magic and the tangled relationships between powerful factions. Nor did they enjoy hearing about them.

Aaron left it there. He handed Eleanor the menu the server had brought. "Order whatever you like. It's fine."

"Whatever I like? Are you sure?" The young cleric took the menu. Her eyes went straight to the first item on the recommendations list.

"Premium gingerbread with fruit preserves—imported from the Flying Dragon Empire. Two Golden Lions per ounce."

Bread in the Realms came in eight grades. The hard, dry, unappetizing black bread so many people knew was not even the lowest.

The finest was "queen's bread," made from rich dough of finely sifted pure wheat flour, then leavened with spices, butter, and fruit preserves. Light and delicious, it had a delicate sweetness.

Below that, bread fell in grade according to how thoroughly the wheat flour was sifted. The less wheat flour it contained, and the more bran and barley flour, the harder and darker it became, until it reached the familiar black bread.

Yet black bread still was not the worst. Below barley came rye, below rye came buckwheat and oats, and below those lay "dark bread" made from ground peas, ferns, soil, sawdust, or acorns. That was truly the lowest fare.

The young cleric usually lived on vegetable porridge, fish, cured meat, fruit, and black bread. At the sight of such luxurious bread, she snatched her hand back as though bitten by a snake. How many poor people could be saved if this gingerbread were exchanged for the same amount of ordinary black bread?

The thought changed the way she looked at Aaron.

An enemy!

Aaron was an enemy!

"Don't look at me like that." Aaron raised an eyebrow. "If I remember right, the finest cheese popular in the kingdom is Death Cheese, made by the Lady of Silver's monks in the marshes along the border between Zambia and Cormyr. You charge a fortune for it. Five Golden Lions won't even buy a whole piece. When I was little, I only got a thin slice on the Lady of Silver's holy day."

"The handsome profits from Death Cheese are an important source of income for the Church of the Silver Mother's Cormyr branch, aren't they?"

"..." Once again, the young cleric had no reply. Fuming, she jabbed at the menu at random before giving a cold laugh. "You're really not afraid I'll order whatever I want? I seem to recall someone admitting outside my lady's altar that he couldn't possibly afford a Miracle. Why are you pretending to be rich now?"

"You're right, but this trip is official business." Aaron laced his fingers together, a sly gleam in his eyes. "I can put my meals on account. The royal household will reimburse me afterward."

Lady of Silver above! I want to punch him right now! Right now!!!

The young cleric threw the menu onto the table. Her tone shifted. "No. I'll order for myself."

"Two standard Knight's meals, then. Oh, and extra bread with mine, and two cups of mead." Aaron returned the menu to the server.

"Miss Eleanor, your money doesn't blow in on the wind either. We should learn to spend what little we have where it matters." Aaron spoke kindly. "Think of this as a tiny expression of thanks for saving my life. Please? I'm asking you. We need healthy bodies and good nourishment to serve the great Lady of Silver better."

"It's all for the great Lady of Silver. Eat, Miss Eleanor. It's our duty!"

"..." The young cleric had been left speechless more times today than in the entire past year.

She knew Aaron was playing with words, but she could find no way to argue. She even knew he was giving her an excuse.

Just eat. I'm tired.

The server soon brought two standard Knight's meals: roast lamb with onions, hare stew with beans, leeks, bacon, corn, and cheese, soft buttered bread, two large cups of mead, and preserved pear pudding flavored with cinnamon and cloves.

Once they began eating, neither spoke. Only the Bard's music, the laughter around the hall, and the servers' footsteps could be heard.

Out of the young cleric's sight, Aaron let his smile fade.

He had suspected it before, but today's events had clarified certain things about himself.

He could not grow stronger through killing.

Many people who crossed into another world gained an ability like that of a Bhaalspawn, letting them gain power through repeated slaughter.

Aaron could not. Slaanesh liked neither combat nor killing. The Prince of Pleasure considered slaughter a crude, boring experience. Unless it brought Aaron something new or the thrill of a brush with death, killing meant nothing to him.

So how was Aaron supposed to grow stronger?

Today had given him an answer. When he had killed those hyenas with Magic Missile, he had felt no improvement. But when Ferrara and the others gazed at him in admiration, he had felt himself absorb a little Chaos energy.

And while the Bard recounted Elminster's legendary exploits, something inside Aaron had stirred restlessly. The restlessness was not his own. It came from Slaanesh's power within him.

Slaanesh liked the feeling of being famous throughout the world!

Slaanesh liked renown, liked having stories spread far and wide, liked showing off outrageous exploits, and liked having legends told in every corner of the Realms.

Slaanesh wanted Aaron to become the most dazzling man in the Realms, just like Elminster.

Slaanesh wanted Aaron to rack up glory and make a great name for himself! Only then could he grow stronger and unlock more of Slaanesh's power!

That ran almost directly counter to Aaron's original plan: keep his head down, grow steadily, and join the fight later.

But did Aaron have a choice?

He had none. He knew using the power of Chaos came at a price. He knew it was a cup of poisoned wine, a slow-acting venom that could quench his thirst. Still, he had to drink it.

This was a race. Either he used the Chaos divine portfolio to ascend to godhood before the Four Gods came for him, absorbed their powers, and became strong enough to challenge Them—or he was doomed.

That was why Aaron had barely engaged with the young cleric before. After meeting Ferrara, though, he had begun teasing her now and then, making her flustered, angry, and speechless.

Slaanesh liked that thrill!

Tears or laughter, either would do. What mattered was getting a reaction!

And... the young cleric really was rather cute. Aaron considered it privately. She had undoubtedly been sent by the Church of the Silver Mother to watch him. If they were on bad terms, everything he did from here on would be constrained. If he won her over, things would be much easier.

I've already broken through the young cleric's defenses. Next comes the second step of the plan...

To think long is to crave knowledge; to know too much is to thirst for thought. Only holy Tzeentch can keep you from its snare!

While Aaron plotted his "grand plan," the mood in the inn's common room changed.

During the Bard's break, a young man in a gray robe, with strings of tooth pendants hanging across his chest, rushed onto the stage. He waved his fists and shouted to the crowd.

"People of Cormyr! Glorious people of Cormyr! Hear me out!"

"I stand here today to warn you, to offer a warning from the bottom of my heart."

"Our people are losing what binds us together!"

"The vile Alusair, Princess Regent of Suzail, is stripping us of our freedom, our pride, and the dignity that belongs to us Cormyrians!"

"We are not slaves to the royal family. We are free—"

Before the young man could finish, two fully armed guards appeared, pinned him to the floor, and stuffed a rag in his mouth.

"Queen's Blade, sir. You're coming with us."

"Mmph! You have no right to— I—mmph!" The young man was knocked unconscious by a few punches from the Queen's Blade guards, then dragged away.

Aaron's mouth twitched.

So you really could hear German in a beer hall?

But that was not the end of it. A military official in ornate dress, clearly of higher rank, emerged from the far side of the hall and approached Aaron.

"A pleasure. Hendry, captain of the Queen's Blade."

"Viscount Aaron Salian, regarding your current assignment, we've received an anonymous report alleging that you colluded with Dark Sun, or perhaps even certain beings from beyond this world, to murder War Wizard apprentice Hicks and patrol captain Volk."

"Would you cooperate with our investigation and answer a few questions?"