10 A Tank

Rod did not play again. Jacob wished he had another opportunity to listen to the beautiful sound, but he knew it would be unlikely. To even use an item that carried that much sorrow must've taken great willpower from the innkeeper. Instead, Jacob threw himself into his work even more, mastering the techniques the old man taught him in the kitchen.

Angelica returned to her old, happy self the day after Jacob had held her in his arms. He was happy for that change; a gloomy Angelica didn't sit quite right with him. With fewer customers, Jacob found himself with much more free time, time he spent in his room playing with the wind, lest he die of sheer boredom.

Jacob was set to return to his room, when the bell in front of the common room jingled. They had a patron this late into the winter? Who could be so foolish to travel the roads when the temperature was nearly enough to freeze someone in place?

The man that entered had ice attached to a mess of a beard. Frost dripped from his clothes as he neared the fireplace, his hands seeking the warm flame. Jacob approached the man, wearing a genuine smile. Anything interesting was a welcome change of pace, in his book.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink, sir?" Jacob asked respectfully, noticing the blade on the man's hip. The handle was worn, the leather bindings faded. The weapon seemed completely at odds with the man's jovial expression. A warm grin poked out from between the man's craggy features as the man looked at Jacob.

"Your finest stew, young one," the man said, giving Jacob an entire silver coin. Jacob's eyes went wide at the generous payment. A bowl of stew cost one copper, a tenth of a silver. Hell, the clothes on Jacob's back went for two silvers.

"That's far too much, sir," Jacob tried to hand the heavy coin back to him. The warrior laughed, closing Jacob's fingers around the coin.

"It's yours, boy. Just get that soup."

Jacob hurried like he never had in his life. Rod wasn't in the kitchen today – neither Angelica nor he knew what Rod was doing in town – so Jacob hoped that his own culinary experience would prove worthy of the man's kindness.

When he returned to the common room, the warrior's blade was leaning against his table, his thick coat hanging by the door. It appeared as if the man was sleeping, but when Jacob approached, his eyes snapped open and his grin returned at the smell emanating from the bowl.

Depositing the bowl, Jacob also produced a tankard of ale from his other hand. Jacob could feel the warrior's mirth grow at the sight of that. Literally. A well-intentioned slap sent Jacob spiraling towards the floor. "Oh hell, I'm sorry about that," the warrior offered a hand to the downed Jacob. "The name's William, though my friends call me Will."

Jacob grasped the thick arm dangling in front of him, adjusting his wrinkled clothing. "You're built like a tank," Jacob mumbled.

"A tank?"

"A really big bear, Will," Jacob realized his mistake. He was happy to confirm that this world didn't have tanks though; the machines were often the harbingers of war. "My name's Jacob."

"I haven't heard of that type before. I'll have to keep an eye out, Jacob," Will winked, turning his attention to the soup. In between bites, he waved Jacob to another seat at the table. Without any other patrons in the common room, Jacob took the mysterious warrior's offer.

"Why are you in Leafburrow, Will? I've seen warriors come this way, before, but not during the winter."

"Fortune favors the bold, Jacob. The King's placed a bounty on a group of bandits operating out near the frontier. Your town happens to be the closest to the frontier, and the last chance for a warm bed," Will explained, answering many previously unanswered questions.

"But then why do you travel alone? Can you take on an entire bandit camp alone?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm waiting for the first few mercenaries to make their way up here before I join up with them. They'd be fools not to accept my blade."

"So you're staying in town until the spring?"

"That's the plan. You guys have room?"

"Does it look like we're booked?" Jacob laughed, Will following shortly after. "In the winter, the rooms are dirt cheap. It's two coppers a night," Jacob explained, though an inkling of a plan took root in the back of his mind.

"That's quite the price. Anything you can do to cut a man a deal?" Will asked off-handedly, his tone not expecting anything. Jacob rubbed the hair on his chin – he hadn't had time to find a razor since his arrival in Leafburrow – and looked at the warrior.

There was one thing Jacob had dreamed of almost as much as magic. Another skill he thought he'd never have the opportunity to learn, much less use. And now, a man sat across the table who could fulfill those hopes.

"Actually, there is one thing…" Jacob drew out his words, catching the interest of the mercenary. "I'll see if I can cut that down to a copper a night if you spend an hour with me every day teaching me how to use a sword."