Its Wet Rot

I had arrived on my horse at the town with two silver knights, my page, Paige, and my chamberlain, Lord Ferdinand. Each riding a horse of their own.

A few hours ago, I had ordered Lord Ferdinand to take me into town to inspect the territory, Sterilia.

Paige had suggested taking me into town with my carriage—A carriage is a private four-wheeled vehicle for people and is most commonly horse-drawn.

But I refused his suggestion as I wanted to feel the breeze on my face and the wind in my curly hair as always.

So we galloped for a mile through the rough road before we rode into the town through its shabby gates or what was left of it.

From what I could see as I rode in, the gate was once a tightly set of wooden poles in the form of gates but now it was no more than a broken mess of sticks.

So I asked the guardsman by the gate, “Why is the gate in such a condition? Shouldn't it be repaired or replaced by now!?”

“Ah! Your Highness, my lord!” He respectfully bowed at my presence and proceeded to explain immediately.

“Well, you see, my lord, the season was plagued with a consistent flow of rain, and it had caused a small flood that damaged our gates.”

“I see... But still, it doesn't explain why you haven't fixed it yet,” I mentioned.

“Ah yes, sire. The thing is...” He paused for a moment almost as if he was hesitating to say something vital.

I noticed his eyes would shift from me to my right side as he kept silent. But the only person to my right was Lord Ferdinand.

I rolled my eyes once I realized. "It seems Lord Ferdinand's been busy manipulating the guards as well," I thought to myself.

I felt pressed for time so I exclaimed, “Hurry up now! I don't have all day!”

The guardsman jerked from my yell and immediately stated, “Of course, my lord! forgive me, sire. Well, the truth is... The town's counsel has refused to provide the carpenters with the necessary funds to begin repairing the gates."

"I see..." I adjusted my glasses.

He added, "And considering that the solstice is almost upon us, my lord, it would be very difficult for our woodworkers to procure the wood needed from the dark forest.”

“Interesting... Very well, carry on. Hiyaa!” I gestured him away and continued forth on Moonlight, riding a bit quicker into the town.

As we rode, Lord Ferdinand tried to speak to me about the town's funding matter but I silenced him and continued on my ride.

Before reaching the town square we stopped somewhere, where our horse could quench their thirst. The place was surrounded by wooden houses and stone floors cemented into the outdoors ground.

The temperature was even colder here for some reason.

I rubbed my hands to create heat for my palms. “Hu... It is truly cold!” I exclaimed as we rode deeper into town, still surrounded by wooden houses. Winter was approaching.

“Welcome to Sterilia, Prince Philip Of Gladia!" I was greeted with a smile by a young lady in a black gown and a dark fur coat. The lady seemed to be in her mid-twenties, she had striking red hair, brown eyes, and a seductive smile.

“Why, thank you. And you are?” I asked her from on top of my stallion, Moonlight.

“Forgive my manners, my lord, I am Mrs Williams, wife of the deceased Peter Williams.” She said whilst performing a graceful curtsey.

She looked very young to be a widow, definitely older than me but by a few years at most, and she was a noble as well!?

“You're a noble? And a widow!? But you're so young!?” My thoughts escaped my mouth in surprise.

“Oh, that was rude of me, I apologize and I'm sorry for your loss.” I apologized with a sincere bow of my head to her grace.

She blushed and chuckled, “It's alright sire, it has been a while since my husband’s death. After all, I may still be in mourning but I do have a business to run.”

I descended from Moonlight, “Ahh... I see. And what business may that be?”

“I manage the inn just a few steps behind me,” she said, pointing at the impressive-looking building that stood behind her.

The building was four floors high and 50 meters wide. It had a huge red wooden sign across the top of the roof with the cursive words “Will's Inn”.

I was so impressed by the inn's design and structure, so much that I would say that it was almost as grand as a mansion, but I did notice a few... Faults.

On the edge of the top floor where the edge of the sign was, I noticed a small but noticeable hole that seemed to lead into a room on the top floor.

Not only that but there was a little wet rot—the natural rotting of wood caused by excessive moisture, among the edges of the inn building corners as well as the windows of other rooms on the two top floors.

“That's not good...” I mumbled my thoughts out loud.

“Pardon?” Mrs Williams responded to my mumbling.

“Oh, it's nothing. What a grand inn you're running here! May I look inside?” I politely asked.

With a curtsey and a hand leading me in, she said, “Of course, sire! Please, be my guest!”

My knights stood behind, standing guard by the entrance of the inn while Paige, Lord Ferdinand, Mrs Williams and I ventured into the inn.

We entered the lobby of the inn and to my surprise, the inside of the inn was in no way comparable to the outside. Mould, brown spots, mushroom spores, and certain greenish algae could be seen all around the corners of the ceiling and the six wooden pillars that held the ceiling up.

There were a couple of oil lanterns hanging to the ceiling of the lobby, it gave it that rustic feeling, old yet cosy. But even with the intricate design of the floors and ceilings, I could still see slight signs of wet rot on the floors, ceiling, and stairs leading to the upper floors of the inn.

I was also surprised to see that there were a few people seated around the rot-infested wooden pillars, eating and drinking without a care in the world. It was like they could not see the risk of being under all these signs of wet rot implied.

I took in a good whiff of the air, “There's a musty smell in the air, it's slight but it's there. It's definitely wet rot,” I thought.

“May I give you a seat, your highness?” Mrs William said, offering me a polished wooden chair which I accepted and sat on. She and the others that accompanied me sat as well.

We were all seated around a square table very close to one of the four pillars which upon closer inspection, held the ground floor ceiling up, the other two pillars seemed to be central pillars holding the entire structure of the inn, from the top to the bottom past the ground floor on which we sat.

While I stared at the pillar next to us, my eyes shifted and caught a glimpse of a young lady by the bar where drinks were kept. She had red hair similar to the widow's and it seemed our eyes met for a second.

“What deep blue eyes...” I thought to myself after seeing the bartender's beautiful eyes.

“May I offer you some ale to drink?” Mrs Williams offered to us. I wasn't listening, my attention was spent on the lady bartender by the bar until she left that spot and crouched below the bar table from which I couldn't see her anymore.

Once the young lady was out of sight, my attention returned to the pillar right next to us. Seeing its condition up close made me feel... Uneasy.

Meanwhile, Paige asked for a cup of water, and Lord Ferdinand asked for a strong ale.

“Sire? Sire!?” Mrs Williams called for me.

My attention had returned to her, “Huh? Yes?”

She asked again, “Would you like an ale, sire?”

I immediately refused, “No, thank you.” I did not enjoy consuming alcohol unless it was a ceremonial or important event. Plus, I remembered the last time I took alcohol, I ended up in bed with three voluptuous dames.

Being a Gladian, I was of drinking age because people ages 15 and above in Gladia were considered adults. Thus, anyone at the age of 15 had every right to drink, start a business or even wed, but even with all those freedoms, I was still not keen on the premise of drinking alcohol.

But I did prefer a good hot tea to alcohol.

“I'd like a hot tea if you have it,” I asked Mrs Williams with my finger gracefully raised.

“Of course! Right away, sire!” The widow immediately left to bring us our beverages.

Before Mrs Williams would return, I stood up and closely investigated the pillar right next to us.

While I did so, I noticed brown stains, splitting or some form of cracking along the grain of the wood, and that the wet rot had spread to the very centre of the wood as it was easily wet to the touch.

“This isn't good at all," I thought as I felt the wood.

“Here are your beverages!?” Mrs Williams had returned with an enthusiastic smile.

But I ignored her pleasantry and questioned, “Tell me, Mrs Williams, have there been long series of falling rain during the season?”

“Why, yes, your highness. It's been raining for four months now,” she answered immediately.

I knocked on the wood to listen for hollow sounds, while saying, “And what have you done to replace the wood during this season?”

“Pardon me, sire, 'replace' the wood? Why would I do that?” She looked at me in confusion, and I could see the naivete on her face, she was completely unaware of the dangerous situation her inn had fallen upon.

Her statement shocked me so much that I had to exclaim, “Wait a second! Have you not made any plans to change the wood since it was infested with wet rot!?”

She looked at me with an even more confused expression, “Forgive my wit, sire, but what is this ‘wet rot’ you speak of?”

I pointed it out on a wooden pillar that held the ceiling where the wet rot was evident, “Here it is! Don't you see this brown spot? It's wet rot, it's the rotting of wood due to excessive moisture! Haven't you noticed it all this time?”

She squinted at it and said, “Oh... Did you mean the dark wet spots on the wood? It's alright, we simply heat it with our lanterns at the end of the day to dry it.” She seemed so sure of her words and actions but only I knew that she was wrong, she was so wrong.

I was dumbfounded. “You've been artificially heating it to dry it up!? Since when!?”

She said without error, “Why, yes, sire. Ever since my husband died I've been in charge of taking care of the inn so at the end of every day since then I had my servants dry out the wet spots using lanterns.”

Feeling annoyed, I rubbed my temple, “Are you dum-! No. No...” I stopped myself mid-sentence.

I composed myself and asked once more but with a stern look, “Before I think the worse, you said your husband died a while ago, right?”

“Yes, sire.”

I asked once more, “Tell me, exactly how long has it been since your husband's passing?”

She thought for a short while before saying, “Well... Your Highness, that would be... Four months now.”

I was shocked, “Four months!!?”