The Flaming Orc

I sigh as I stare at the oak ceiling. I know work and home life don't mix very well. I sigh as the soft gryffon-feather stuffed blanket feels as if it is going to weigh me down and melt me into my bed. The relaxing feeling is almost too much to fight off. I have to get up. The tavern won't run itself.

I groan as I toss the blanket off of myself and the cool are catches me by surprise. It seems we are getting close to the harvest times again. I get up and peel my night gown off to find something to wear for the day.

I walk across my room and grab onto my wardrobe to open it. I find a light blue dress from my old studying days from Thillemhelm. My mother lived there for some time. The dress still smells faintly of my mother's home made juniper berry and rosemary perfume. I miss her dearly.

I take the ribbon from atop of my dresser. I reach behind my head and swiftly braid and tie it. Before I know it, I can hear people starting to talk from my tavern below. at least they can't do anything down there to harm my business. I have taken the time to set up traps and even enchant my tavern segments based on level of my trust they have. It kicks in when I go to bed though.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

"Yes?" I call out.

"Miss, there is a Holy One looking for you." I hear a man's voice on the other side of the door.

"I'll be down momentarily." I reply.

A holy one is a high elf who has accessed their luminous spirit. They must typically study at the college of Trela for them to even begin to study that magic. Just as all divine races would find their respective college for study of their own ability. Myself, as being a half of the foreign, would have to travel to the land of Gorok for my closest study.

I shake my head. I wonder why a holy one is looking for me. However, if I recall, the meadery, 'The Hanging Griffon' is my usual supplier, which had two holy ones working there. I wonder if perhaps it is one from them. I grab my tavern key, tie my daggers hold onto my upper thigh. I don't want to look intimidating but, being prepared is better than being sorry, as my father said.

I walk out from my room and down the hall. The deep ebony walls taunt me to the stairwell. I turn to the stairs and go downward as the scent of burning wood fills my nostrils. Someone took the liberty of stoking the hearth today. I am thankful.

"Ah, there you are Moira!" I hear a male call out to me.

"Hey, how can I help?" I turn and see the holy one.

"I come from the meadery." He says.

"Oh am I due for the payment? Did my courier not make it to you?" I ask.

"It's not that." He says as he goes into the pocket of his deep brown coat. "Your payment." He offers it back to me.

"What are you trying to say?" I ask.

"We will no longer be participating in business with you and your tavern." He says.

"Why?" I huff.

"Miss, it has come to our attention you have been using our recipe to craft your house blend." He says.

"I was not told to ever stop my your company and it was already mentioned with the contract." I reply.

I want to slap this elf stupid. I have been in business with these guys for over fifty years! This is an outrage.

"We appreciate the previous endeavors, but unless we involve the high king, this is the Nest benefit to you." He huffs.

"So be it." I reply. "Then you can leave my tavern." I say as I raise my hand.

My hand ignites with a hallowed glow of faint blue as he tries to stay on his feet. I know my way around a telekinesis spell. He squirms uncomfortably. I raise my other hand and the front door of my tavern opens.

"Moira, let's not do something ridiculous." He sweats as he tries to reason with me.

I lower the hand I used to open the door and smile at the holy one. This is my home and he is not welcome. I let the focus of emotion flood into the hand. I force my hand forward and release my grip on the elf. He gets flung back skidding on his heels, tripping on the doorstep and falling onto his ass in the street in front of The Flaming Orc.

"That look suits you. Oh, and don't come back." I say as I waltz to the front door and slam it.

"Wow!" I hear a woman in the corner exclaim.

"Oh, sorry. Bad business deal." I say with a laugh.

I head back to my bar. Now how am I going to get the mead for my brews? I suppose I could travel to find a farmer of wheat or potatoes, learn to make my own. I shake my head and my auburn hair smacks my face. I'm thankful I tie it back, or it would do this on a regular basis.

"Maybe I can help." She says.

"How? And why would you want to?" I ask full of the instinct of inquiry.

"I know a place where you can get enough coin made to buy your own farmhouses and meaderies." She says softly.

I approach the woman in the corner, her dark cloak hiding her face and form. I find myself curious as why the woman hides herself like this. I take a seat across from her.

"I'm listening." I say.

"Good." She pulls her hood back. "My name is Ilisa." She introduces herself.

I take in the sight of the woman. Her skin like sapphires and hair like ice. I have never seen something like this in my life. The woman looks at me as if something is amiss.

"Sorry I have never seen someone like before." I say.

"I am a kritenya. A crystalline guardian." She sys to me.

"So your a divine being?" I ask.

"Like your father." She nods.

"What do you know of my father?" I ask.

"Plenty." She smiles. "Keep closed. I need to talk with you for this opportunity, child." She adds.

What could possibly be awaiting me? What does she know that I personally don't? There has to be more to this than I am being told.