Season of Lights

OOC - Not much in this one to move the story along, but there's a little world building and some character stuff. Feel free to jump in with a character.

IC -

Jasper awoke to a loud thump in his room. His hand traveled quickly to the hilt of his backsword stashed under the bed.

“de Luc, it’s just me.” A very drunk Harrig attempted to sit on the bed, but only managed to bounce off the side of the mattress and land the floor. “Hmm…That bed seemed taller a minute ago.”

“I see you accomplished everything on your list, save the bath.” Jasper supposed Harrig could have bathed before starting his drinking; in which case he would still smell as if he had drunk half the ale in the King’s Grace by himself.

“Plenty of time for that today my friend!” He said, too loud in the small space, “The suns are out with not a cloud to be seen.”

“I don’t see what the weather has to do with your bath.” Jasper said, irritated.

“Hmm.” Taken aback Harrig went deep into thought on that quandary, and before long was snoring loudly.

Jasper tried, for a moment, to sleep with his head under his pillow, but the sawing worked its way through. Nudging the sleeping giant had no effect. When a final attempt at upending the wash basin over Harrig had similar results, Jasper decided to move his irritation downstairs and feed it some breakfast.

The common room was empty in the late morning, though a fire roared invitingly in the hearth. Sunlight spilled through three massive windows that faced the street. Sitting down at a polished mahogany bar, Jasper hoped he could still get some hot breakfast. None of the staff were in site, and he was about to investigate the kitchens himself when the innkeeper came through the double doors.

“Ah Master de Luc, finally up and around I see.” She winked at him while shuffling behind the bar for a plate and utensils, “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Adria returning from the Low Quarter?”

Jasper’s stomach growled as eggs, sausage, and bread appeared as if by magic, “I wouldn’t say it was so much his returning, as it was his snoring. Chased me all the way down the stairs.”

Ilona laughed. The sound was pure mirth, and Jasper couldn’t help but join in.

They shared some light conversation as Jasper broke his fast. While he finished the last of the sausage guests began to filter into the room for lunch. Ilona excused herself, and began to produce more food from the kitchen. With the last of his meal gone, Jasper carried his mug of kahve to a cushioned armchair close to the fire.

Sipping the hot drink Jasper marveled at the flavor. The beans had traveled far from their northern home, and that usually led to a weak or bland kahve. He hadn’t had anything passable south of the Midlands, but this blend was rich and had been roasted with some amazing spices.

While he was contemplating the kahve, the front door of the common room burst open with a gust of frigid wind. Snow swirled for brief moment obscuring the tall figure. Cloaked and hooded the man closed the door with a quick shove. He pulled back his hood before moving a hand to the hilt of his sword.

“In the name of the king, and by the power of Dorren the third, Chosen of the Path, I declare a beginning to the Season of Lights.” This announcement, made with a wide grin, was met with a chorus of cheers, “By the word of Elluh the Prophet there shall be no Roundings in this time of celebration.” Again there were cheers, but people looked confused. Jasper recalled the conversation at the bridge last night. It seems this prophet is a rumor to most people.

Ilona offered the man a traditional mug of spiced wine, reserved for the Messenger of the Lights. Everyone was singing, and greeting the herald with much black slapping and hand shaking.

“I must be off good lady. If I took the offered drink at each business on this street alone I would need to be carted from door to door.” Laughter followed the man into the street.