Sari's Tavern was an ancient manor three stories high. Refurbished when she was a child, a thick column hosting a spiraling staircase split the large building in two. The kitchen and dining room took up much of the bottom floor, while rooms took up the second and third floor. Little railed balconies circled the tavern. It had a grand appearance for being in the middle of nowhere..
And it luckily sat within Korin's roaming area. An equal distance from the bakery and her home.
Usually when her and Etan finished everything they would split up the deliveries. Him taking the orders down the mountain and her taking the ones up. Usually leaving the bread on doorsteps with a quick knock and swift exit.
With Mikhail temporarily at the bakery she hadn't stopped by the tavern all week.
She clenched her teeth as Mikhail unloaded the cart up front. Usually she dropped everything off in the back. Her moment of hesitation landed a basket in her arms again and she was being pushed into the dining room.
Despite the chilly air of the high altitude, the inside was warm and inviting. The walls were washed in muted burnt sienna complimented by hanging lights that released the signature teal glow of Ipahns famous energy conducting crystals. It was warm and inviting, a place of gatherings, hot meals, chilled ale, smooth liquors, and warm beds.
More patrons than typical filled wooden tables and booths. Chatter and laughter bubbled and spilled over her as she shimmied through the door. Juicy and hearty smells of stews and potatoes wafted from the kitchen in the far eastern corner. The mouthwatering scents mixed with that of fresh bread and Korin's stomach let out a little growl that no one heard.
Sari, a curvy woman with apple cheeks and a dazzling smile, currently stood at one of the tables taking an order from one of her regulars.
He prattled on about the way he wanted a cut of meat when the bell attached to the door rang out and stole her attention. At the sight of the tanned blonde man entering the eccentric Sari immediately abandoned the regular, the rest of his order falling on deaf ears.
"Mikhail!" If there was one thing about her that everyone knew, it was that she absolutely adored beautiful men. Something she wasn't shy about at all. And Mikhail was the perfect target of her affections.
"Good evening, Miss Sari." Mikhail replied ever friendly, "I have tonight's delivery for you."
"I told you you can just call me Sari. No need to be formal." Sari blushed and playfully swatted at the air before directing him with a finger, "You can take the delivery back to the kitchen as usual."
With a quick nod Mikhail made his way back. Sari watched after him adoringly, admiring his graceful footsteps as we wound his way through tables. An airy blouse and skirts artfully layered over tight pants swayed around him, quite different and a little more provocative than the standard Ipahnish garb.
"Oh the great spirits surely blessed that man." She breathy sighed addressing no one in particular.
"I didn't know Mikhail was blessed by great spirits?" A monotonous voice replied from next to her. Oblivious to the meaning of Sari's words. Korin knew of the 'great spirits', old elementals that had survived in the godless lands. Often worshiped by niche groups and a growing number of eccentric and expressive women.
The tavern owner yelped, drawing the attention of quite a few patrons. Sari turned towards the familiar voice. " Good gods, you scared me. I didn't hear you come in."
"I'm sorry." Apologized Korin, who was partially concealed by one of the large bread baskets. "I'm helping out Mikhail tonight. Shall I take this back to the kitchen as well?"
Sari scanned the tavern.
Here and there a few eyes warily lingered on the two women. Drawn from Sari's scream and now stuck due to Korins' presence.
"No need. You can just set it here." Sari waved one hand and pointed at the ground with the other. "I like watching Mikhail work." She wiggled her eyebrows with devious suggestion.
Korin bobbed he head, setting down the basket before dusting some stray flour from her hands.
"Actually, I'm a bit relieved you showed up tonight." Sari's face contorted apologetically before pointing towards the back corner where a bar lined the wall. "Samhir passed out here again."
Sat on one of the stools, hunched over, face buried in his arms was Korin's father. A few empty liquor bottles glumly sat around him. An empty shot glass rested on its side. The remainder of the contents were spilled on the bar and soaking into the sleeve of his sweater.
"You know I'd usually just have Mikki take him up to an empty room." Mikki was the cook and Sari's older brother. "But a merchant convoy is to arrive in a few days and some early birds have taken all the extra space."
Korin stared at her father for a second longer before bowing her head towards Sari. "My deepest apologies. I can't thank you enough for the kindness you show him. If there is any way I can compensate you, please let me know."
For a moment Sari was taken aback. It was very rare to hear the quiet women speak so much and with such conviction.
The tavern owner shook her head. " Please, there is no need for all that. Samhir usually does so much to help out with the tavern, I mean he practically built this place! It's really not a problem at all."
"Regardless, you have my appreciation for taking care of him." It was unsaid whether or not her thanks had value amongst her community but she offered it anyway with another polite bow.
Korin made her way over to her father, passing a few staring diners on the way.
"That's the kid I was telling you about." Sven, a local, commented in a low voice as she walked by. His companion was a merchant who had arrived in the village earlier that day. "Just being in her presence always gives me the heebie-jeebies."
The tavern wasn't large or loud enough to eat Sven's words and they continued to grace her ears as she shook her father awake.
There was rarely much of interest that happened in the village so when visitors did come, gossip from the past was a prevalent subject of conversation. As had been the case with Mikhail.
"She was in a coma for months after she went missing in the forest. Then, when she woke up, the girl just wasn't the same anymore. Them fancy doctors in the capital said she prolly got brain damage, but it didn't really explain why she became so creepy." Sven eyebrows shot up and he took a giant drink from his mug, foam spilling into a rusting beard.
Korin's father grumbled as she pulled him to his feet.
Throwing his arm across her shoulders they began to stumble towards the exit. He walked like a noodle trying to slip to the floor. She stumbled as she tried to keep hold of him. "Walk straight, Dad. Or else we're gonna fall over." She ordered.
"The council and the elders confined her to the mountain above the bridge." Sven kept talking despite the daughter father duo that slowly made their way towards him. "Soon enough most everyone in the village began to avoid her and the mountain entirely. Even people who knew her family suddenly wouldn't go anywhere near them."
Samhir threw his head back, his gait slowing and his eyes narrowed at the other man.
"Just leave it be, dad." She tried to continue to drag him away but Samhir dug his heels into the floor coming to a stop.
"Even the girls own mother-"
Sven was abruptly cut off by the sound of Samhir loudly clearing his throat. His stumbling intoxication morphing into a drunken anger.
"What are we talking about, Sven of Harus?" He hissed through clenched teeth.
Sven, son of Harus, began to visibly sweat. "Oh ya know. Just chit chatting with my new friend here." He nervously laughed in an attempt to brush past his indiscretions.
"Chit chatting?" Samhir clipped loudly, drawing more attention to the group. "So I supposed some good chit chat with a stranger would be on the topic Anise. You know," His eyebrows pinched up mockingly, "lets talk about how she has been going around- "
"Woah, woah, woah!" Sven quickly interceded. Looking like a melting candle as his complexion paled. It was known that Sven's wife, Anise, was of a more promiscuous nature and recently that nature was making itself prolific in the village. Though monogamy wasn't broadly practiced among the Ipahnish, such apparent wanton behavior as Anais had displayed was considered malicious and taboo. People spoke about marital troubles between the two. When the topic turned towards his own less than savory affairs he didn't enjoy the gossip.
"It must be Mikkis' new batch a' brew." Sven meekly held up his mug of half drunken ale. "Strong batch, this one. Got my lips a little loose."
Samhir swiped the mug away, ale sloshing about, and placed the drink on the table with a heavy thunk. Veins flexed and popped along his hand as he pointed a rigid finger in the other man's face. "I don't give a damn if it was the strong liquors of the great continent that had you feeling chit chatty. When you're in the presence of my daughter I suggest you tighten up those loose lips. Don't want something bad happening to the slimy tongue of yours-"
Korin stood off to the side as her father delivered his violent promises to their fellow villager. She knew at this point there was no pulling him away. Sven already had a sour history with Samhir and had just brought up his wife. He would be lucky to escape the situation with a verbal lashing alone. Her father had traded firsts with the man for less before.
Across the room she met Mikhail's green eyes and she could see the curiosity and thoughts behind them.
And it mirrored all of those around him.
Her throat tightened and she dropped her gaze to the floor
Instead she took notice of how the floor swelled beneath the booth from years of spilt beer. How Mikki's new brew smelt like the apricots in season all across Ipahn at the moment. And how, out of the corner of her eye she could see Sven's companion studying her through hooded sky blue eyes.
___________________________________________________________________
Crrreak.
Creeeak.
Mikhail winced as another splintering whine sounded through the empty house. He was a master of sneaking but this old house with its worn wooden floors seemed determined to give away his presence.
His foot came down with another groan from the floor and he whipped his head around anticipating to be caught.
When a moment passed he let out a sigh and turned back towards making his way to his bedroom.
"So you have been avoiding me." A cold voice confirmed from the darkness to his right.
Mikhail jumped as his aunt emerged from the shadows, a deep scowl etched into her face. Their relation was undeniable. She possessed the same golden hair, tanned skin, and green eyes as he and every other blood born member of the house of Maaroi.
He had indeed been avoiding the woman.
Amelia was sent with him in order to supervise and report to her sister (his mother) on his progress with his mission.
She was his favorite family member but his mother had begun to become increasingly impatient in their correspondence and thus his aunt had no choice but to harass him for further updates.
He had no desire to discuss these matters yet, so Mikhail did what he did best.
He summoned his magic and his skin crackled and popped and bones bloomed from its smolder as he disappeared into a ball of smoke.
It was his favorite emergency exit strategy and always gave him a little giggle. A fun little trick of a body sloshing away and leaving its inner frame behind.
The first time he'd mastered it he had done so on his mother. The steely and hardened Margrave Maaroi's wail had been so immediate and gut wrenching that Mikhail had instantly reappeared, guilt ridden and trying to comfort his mother. Her sorrow curdled into instant rage and she beat him through the castle.
It wasn't a new trick to Amelia who growled and lashed out at the skeleton. Bones exploded in every direction from the force, flying through the air and shattering into smoke where they crashed into surfaces.
"Damnit Mikhail!" Amelia typically found much amusement in her nephew's pranks, evening joining in here in there. But it was rather infuriating to be on the receiving end of his trickery.
.
He rematerialized in his own room with a heavy sigh.
His mother no doubt would ask if he had found the item foretold by the seers. He would give the same no and then she would prattle about his incompetence and how he was a demonborn son and therefore should excel in whatever he did. Like his decorated and valored brother. She was hungry for his success, just like she had been with Lucien, and eager to find what the seers kept repeating.
It was exhausting.
He flopped onto his bed and dug into the inner satchel he wore strapped beneath his shirt. Pulling forth a small stack of cards he held them to the light.
The cards were received from seers and fortune tellers all across the Enora. Just about one from every country,, each card from a different collection.
Some had simple designs of flowers or clouds while others were more complex- featuring ornate weaving, dragons, birds, and glyphs. All of them had one thing in common and that was a wheel with multiple spokes.
The last card he pulled sat right on top, His thumb ran across its embossed surface and he was sucked into its memories,
****************************
A briny ocean breeze wafted through the open curtains of the balcony of his rental in Seval, the southern Continent. More appropriately, one of the large port cities of fruit and sugar trade. Known for more than a thousand years as Aribram.
And it had treated him very well the last few months.
He was laid in his bed, partially intoxicated in the afternoon sun. The mousy hair of his current companion swirled around as she let out a shrill giggle. She was jiggly and quick to sing out peals of laughter, good natured and around for a good time.
Half naked and seated on Mikhails' hips she swatted at his wandering hands.
"Okay, okay," she said, breathily recovering her composure. He's been tickling her, the demon in him eagerly feasting on her breathlessness and light. "Seriously this time!"
She raised her left hand oracle cards held out in exaggeration. The cards took on a soft light, and one by one she lifted her fingers until she released the cards to float in the air.
Their glowing surfaces split apart and they began to twirl in an entrancing dance.
A rhythmic little swinging and circling flux of magic often portrayed by oracle. Part of the thrill always in the performance.
Then they were returning to her palm, restacking themselves in uniformity until all but one remained.
Mikhail was already fairly certain which one it was. The same card every seer had pulled for the last year.
This deck of oracle cards was particularly ornate and, sure enough, the card was as he thought. It flipped towards him, decorated in ribbons and gold, featuring two dragons on either side of a spinning wheel. Above it in the old Aasai script read, 'Wheel of Fate'.
The card began to animate, the ribbons slithered like snakes, the dragons opened and closed their maws while clawing the air.
A lush ribbon of thick, velvety light shot forward from the spinning wheel, washing the room in deep pink. A woman formed from the mirage dressed in layers of silk skirts that sashayed in the breeze. Her incredibly dark hair floated around her as if she were under water while necklaces of beads and copper trinkets clicked and clacked.
"Woah." The seer sighed.
.
The apparition glided forward, taking Mikhail by the face before pressing an airy mouth to his in a deep kiss.
It was forceful enough that it parted his lips and air played with his tongue.
He had seen the woman a couple times before in his readings but never had she interacted with him in such an intimate manner. For a brief moment his eyes widened in surprise before he subconsciously relaxed into the familiarity of her lips. They were cool, like a shaded cave on a sweltering day, crisp and wet, a haven from the heat.
CRACK!
The apparition coiled and disappeared as a hand shot forward to deliver a powerful smack to Mikhail's cheek.
"What in the hells!" His companion seethed having been momentarily forgotten by him.
He held his face, his words failing him as she left from her position. Gathering her clothes she stomped from his bedroom.
A ferocious storm he would either never see again or see way too much of after their little encounter here.
Mikhail absentmindedly stroked his stinging cheek, staring at where the smokey presence had been. The card fluttered onto his chest.