Exx

Pulling the two coins from his pocket, he laid them on the table. “I’ll take whatever that’ll bring me.” He held up the mug. “Along with this.” She crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Didn’t the guards tell you your first day’s on us?” “Yes, but—” “You don’t ‘but’ me,” the woman snapped, then added a smile. “By the way, my name’s Berta. Not Bertha. There’s no H.” “No H. Got it. And your job here is?” “I run this place.”   “You do?” Henry chuckled. “I thought this place was run by D’Jacques.” “He runs the compound, but this lodge is my domain.” She grinned again. “He’ll even tell you that himself. I’ll be right back.” She vanished through the doorway.

“Henry Elder.” Henry held out his hand. “Are you Cavender?” “I am.” They shook. “Mother told me to be expecting you.” Henry blinked. “Your mother? ”Cavender pointed in the direction of the dining hall. “Berta. You met her last night.” “How did she know I’d be coming to talk to you?” The swordsmith chuckled. “Estelle overheard Barbazin and his friends talking to you this morning at breakfast. He suggested you come talk to me. Estelle told Mother about the conversation, so she sent Estelle over here to let me know.” “Oh, my. News does travel fast around here, doesn't it?. Uhh, do you suppose the battle lord and lady also know—” Cavender laughed out loud. “Oh, yeah. They know you’re here, and why.” He cringed. “I’m out of order here, aren’t I? I should have asked permission first from the battle lord.” The weapons maker grinned. “Son, if either Yulen or Atty hadn’t wanted you here, you would’ve been shown the front gates first thing this morning.”

Henry got up and walked over to where the man sat and offered his hand in greeting. “How do you do? My name is—” “I know who you are,” the guy abruptly cut him off, but not gruffly. “You’re that author fellow who’s writing stories about Yulen and Atty. Excuse me. Collecting stories about them.” Henry withdrew his hand. “It sounds like you don’t approve of what I’m doing.” He’d learned long ago that, although a lot of people supported and liked the idea of learning more about the Battle Lord and Lady of Alta Novis, there were a few cynics who felt the couple’s private life should be left out of the limelight, per se, and more focus placed on what they accomplished. The old man eyed him from top to bottom. “I don’t have an opinion either way of you, Mr. Elder. Just repeating what I’ve heard.”

Henry watched as the big man changed before him. This confident, strong, and well-seasoned warrior had been struck down with a major case of PTSD. Yet Renken was determined to relate the rest of the story. It was as if he needed to get it out of his system, like it was a poison fermenting in his soul. And the only way to cleanse himself was to get it out. To share it. To vomit it up until he’d gotten rid of every ounce of it once and for all. At that point, Henry knew the guy had never spoken about this event to anyone. Not until now. This was and may be the man’s only chance to find the peace of mind that he could finally live with. After a long pause and several more sips of beer, he was sorely tempted to nudge the ex-mercenary on with a simple question, but something told him to hold back and let the man gain his footing on his own terms, in his own time.