Thirteen years have passed since Ravin was left in the care of the old man, he still runs the pub. Ravin now nearing his supposed thirteenth birthday is helping the man out by serving drinks to the patrons of the bar. He started do this from the guilt of having the old man taking care of him by himself along with running the bar.
He had grown up to be a hard working individual with short black hair, an average build and good reaction time. He lived on the upper floor of the bar along with the old man who treated him as his own son, but he had never told Ravin about how he really came to take care of him and his birth mother.
“The place had been packed for the past few days. Do you think it's a holiday or something?” Ravin asked the old man who has raised him for as long has he could remember.
“I hear the king’s daughter is getting married to Liochant, the head guard of Kaydenceward. I heard he challenged the royal guards to a duel during guard recruitment and easily disarmed all of them. He impressed the king with that act so much that he arranged him to marry the princess… or so the rumors say” Said a man who had just entered, he had a fairy firm build, armed with a sword on his belt, he sat parallel to the old man. He had what seemed to be a recently trimmed beard, short dark brown hair and his clothes looks like they were slashed, fabric torn, fibers coming loose. “One beer please.”
“Coming right up. Ravin do you mind going out back to get the more, refined barrels” the old man instructed. Ravin wondering why he doesn’t just serve the man one of the regular ones went out back to grab the barrel. These were to be delivered to the capital for The Ceremony of The Blessed, a ceremony held every hundred years for that is when the new travallor is chosen.
The travallor is granted abilities by the heir to the throne and is chosen to be sent to the farland to participate in a ritual that no one has any records on. The only thing that is known about the ritual is that one travallor is chosen to represent each of the five kingdoms, the ritual also requires that each travallor is to bring an offering for each of the other four travallors, this kingdoms offering is The Vallhadam Beer, brewed from the most refined barley cultivated by the royal family and kept in the hands of four of the most trusted personnel.
Ravin carefully picked up the barrel making sure not to knock the rest over, locked the cellar door and returned to the old man with the barrel in hand.
“Oh, here it comes, sorry for the wait sir” the old man said to the man.
“No, the wait was fine, plus your stories of how you bested those bandits was quite thrilling” the man said with a chuckle, “But, now is the time to be festive, the princess is getting married and The Ceremony of The Blessed is near. The timing is perfect with the princess getting married the duty will fall on her to decide who will become the next travallor.” As he finished his sentence he took in a big gulp of the The Vallhadam Beer. “Man this stuff hasn’t changed a bit now has it Marii”
“Marii? Who’s Marii” asked Ravin with a confused look on his face.
The man staring at his drink replied “Oh, Marii was my fiancée, she was chosen to be a travallor, she was granted eternal youth. At her darkest time when she had lost all she had to bandits she found me 80 years after she was chosen, we were going to get married a month ago, she managed to acquire some Vallhadam Beer. We were going to drink it together on our wedding day but…” The man had tears streaming down his face, he was staring straight at the wall, as if he was looking at someone. “She was arrested and executed for stealing the beer.” He stared at his hands as if he were holding her body.
“It’s not your fault she died.” The old man said trying to comfort him, “There was no way that you could have known they would have her executed.”
“Hey Bruce! What are you doing now, crying over some fellow you saw get executed!” Yelled a man from the entrance.
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