If the Blacksmith Arms was the taste of danger, then Ye Olde Inn was the taste of home. Every once in a while, one needs the latter to keep sane and Franz Messer was no exception to that rule as he sat at a table in the Inn’s dining area. Of course he never spent the night since he had his own apartment in lowtown, but that was never home compared to here.
Here he spent a few breaks contemplating his lot in life, the good and the bad, as well as wonder how his parents were doing without him. A sudden look of realization hit him as he remembered that his mum’s birthday was drawing near
‘I’d have to see if they can spare me for a bit near the end of the season’ he mumbled, he wasn’t sure he’d be granted however, being a Knight demanded one be ready for the call at all times. One was never truly on break even when they were, that’s just how it went in the Iron Hand.
He sighed as he looked at his plate of Ribs, juicy and succulent, just waiting for his touch. To his right he saw the flagon of mead along with an already full mug, tempting him with its sweetness. He was tempted to drink it here and then, bu~uuuut there were was a protocol to follow and so he began to dig into his plate of ribs slowly, enjoying the taste of the meat as he bit into as well as the sauce that add flavor to it.
It was therapeutic as the air of welcome and relaxation began to seep in as he ate, while did find fighting therapeutic as well it had no place in a time such as this where simply the memory of home was needed. It also allowed him to think calmly off his troubles;
His thirst for battle, his own recently burgeoning fear of the consequences, his lack of real purpose…. Respect from his comrades. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t desire that to some extent, while their friendship would be nice their respect would be greater and more meaningful in the longrun…..
There was also the issue in that he felt so behind them all in terms of skill, oh sure he could punch out better than some…. But the rest? He paused a bite at that and looked forlornly, as if all his misadventures were simply a waste of time and damned miracles….
That mug was looking rather more tempting by the bit….
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