Entry II - The Life and the Tellings of Everard the Tavern Keeper

Written by Chris Jorgensen

After a week and the first entry, I never thought I’d have anything worthy of writing in this book. Turns out, I was wrong, and I’ll be the first to admit it. So I guess this makes for a decent means of writing down the news that happened. Before I was concerned that anything I wrote here would be dull and uneventful. This week though. Let’s start from the beginning.

I put up this book last week after I wrote what I guess could be a quick introduction. The next day we had word that there was some trouble on the roads. Randall, he’s the resident merchant if you could call him anything, came back into town to report that bandits had taken to thieving along the road between here and Brightwater. Bandits, in all my years we’ve never had an issue in these parts. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. They had begun waylaying travelers going out from Brightwater to the various outer towns. Randall says he was just ahead of a group that got attacked. Everyone thought he was spinning tales or some such for a laugh.

Two days later, there are riders out in the street at night. I didn’t get a count of them myself, but most people were saying between five and thirty. I doubt the thirty. Realistically it may have been only the five or so that came into town. Regardless, they started hollering and causing an uproar and ransacked a few places before throwing torches at a couple of houses. Edmund got his house burned out. He’s the thatcher. The whole house caught up real quick with the pitch and materials in his workshop on the back end of his place. That was the thing that scared off those bandits or whatever they were real quick. A whole blazing fire three times as big and bright as you wanted it to be? That got people out.

Still, it was hard on Edmund for a time, but the town got together and started helping him with getting a new place set up. People around here know the value of such things, and we’d rather have someone that can fix our roofs before winter comes than not. So it is all working out in one way or another.

It’s funny how most people think we can’t afford the homes we have. Rubbish. Hell look at me, I’m just past my thirty-third year, and I already have a good house and a tavern to go along with it. The idea of some strangers coming into a town and thinking we are worthless without the world outside. Strange I say.

I’m rambling. So, the bandits. They did some damage, stole some goods, fled the town and have been out on the roads ever since. So far, no word from Halvershen or Brightwater on if they are sending anyone to do anything. Usually, we would see tax collectors and the like from Brightwater, but that stands to reason where it lands in the whole pyramid of things.

Baron Gregor rules Brightwater, so he would no doubt want to send someone to take care of the issue. However, if he doesn’t give anything, then that leaves Halvershen which is a full Earldom. And Gregor gives fealty to the Earl, Merek deGrey. I’m almost certain that it won’t ever escalate to that point. If the Earl had to send troops to take care of bandits, he wouldn’t care what his soldiers did here. He would want the issue resolved. Hopefully, we see some word soon from the Baron.

A few of the stragglers from the companies have come into town, seeking refuge after all. A few people are well enough to do that they have made all kinds of demands of us. They haven’t gotten much sympathy from the townsfolk. The others are mostly workmen, and they have been much more agreeable. Most of them are masons who were on their way north to Espiria. Some fortification work or the other. The bandits did little to them in regards to stealing anything, but they did break the wagons that had all of their stones in them. So now here they are with not much else to do. Until those bandits are run out and they can get back to their stone can they continue on their way to whatever project they got.

I’ll hope for some resolution to all of this soon. Whether it’s soldiers from the east or militia from the west, or maybe the bandits get bored of this place and leave us. Either way, all these people are heavy drinkers, and they are running out of coin. While I’m no stranger to people trying to do a runner on their drinks, the solid wooden cudgel I keep under the bar usually deals with any problems well before they start. So far, I haven’t had to hit more than four people in all my years. More often than not just the sight of ol’ Matilda is enough to make them decide it's worth paying me rather than having a cracked arm or skull.

So I’m now just hoping we have some form of solution sooner rather than later. For their sake, they better hope it comes before there is trouble.