Ariana,

BE FORGOTTEN

Chapter 1

A Bar Fight

For the second time that evening, a fight had broken out in the dining hall of Spireturn Inn. A drunken bandit had found enough courage in the bottom of a shot glass to punch a pirate who was paying for his bar tab. They were now locked in a brawling match in the middle of the room, breaking chairs and tables and sending dishes skyward. A serving maid was trying to make her way past bloodied arms and bruised legs, gingerly stepping to avoid the dueling duo, but to no avail. She intercepted a punch that was aimed at the pirate, and landed hard on the floor, spilling the contents of the dish she was carrying all over the disgraceful scene.

Ariana watched the maid fall, and immediately rushed in to help, but when a bread knife zoomed just past her left foot, she thought better of it. She had already called up the stairway for Blaire, the manager to come to their aid, but he seemed preoccupied at the moment. She tried again. “Blaire?”

Silence.

Sometimes fights just blew over and settled themselves. There was always that possibility. She scanned the crowd that had gathered around the scene and saw that gold coins were changing hands. Some of the other guests were probably betting on the fight. She wouldn’t put it past them.

She felt the blood drain from her face when she saw the bandit start to choke the pirate, whose face was steadily turning a violent shade of purple. That was it. Blaire had to be notified.

She ran up the stairs onto the balcony that overlooked the entire room. Tallow lamps were burning and casting shadows on the wooden walls. From here, the scene seemed ghostly and dark. The two fighting were in the middle of a ring of chaos, of broken chairs and dishes that lay strewn in an irregular circle. A ring of onlookers, other guests enjoying the excitement that the fight presented, encircled all of this disarray.

Ariana turned to the doors that stood on the opposite side of the balcony railing. She went through these into the hallway were the bedrooms of the Inn were located. This hallway forked into two other passages, allowing one set of rooms on the left side, one the right, and one in the middle.

She scrambled to the right-handed passageway, were Blaire said he would be straightening up the bedchambers. She listened intently, trying to pick a specific room to start in. She heard a male’s voice laughing somewhere, muffled by the solid wooden walls. In another room, she heard the distant rumble of snoring, the sound of drunken sleep. And then, finally, she heard it. Blaire’s low tenor voice sounded behind the last door down this hallway. He sounded angry, but she could not hear the words he was saying, as they were stifled by the thickness of the door.

She glided down the narrow passageway walking past tallow lamps and brass numbers on the doors indicating which rooms they lead to. She came face to face with number thirteen, throwing open the door only to stop in her tracks. She saw Blaire’s chocolate brown skin tone and short black hair as she stared at his back, his black waiter’s uniform shady against his skin. He had his hand on his hips, and although she couldn’t see his face, she studied his hands, which were bunched up in angry fists.

Blaire was towering over a heap of fabric on the ground. It groaned.

With his back turned to her, Blaire puffed out his chest and said, “Now what gave you the bright idea to climb through the window? You could have injured yourself, or worse, you could have broken something of value. Now are you going to pay for that vase or work it off?” His voice was a low hiss, which meant that he was in deadly mood.

Ariana looked around the room and saw that the window was open a crack, and that a turquoise vase lay in pieces on the floor, ruined. She coughed lightly to let Blaire know that she was there.

“Ariana can you believe this?” He pointed to the lump on the floor, which was now making a vain attempt to wriggle to its feet. She noticed it was a man wearing a green robe with the hood hiding his face, as if ashamed to let his identity slip into view. He fell back in a crumpled heap, panting. Blaire pressed on, “This lunatic climbs through the window while I’m coming down the hallway. I hear a crash, and come in only to see him pawing through this thing.” He motioned towards a black briefcase that lay open on the bed, its contents scattered and spilling over the clean sheets.

Just then, a woman walked in. She was of medium height with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing a simple black gown and looked absolutely ravishing, her dark features startlingly beautiful. She had a red diamond tattoo on her forehead that stood out against her pale skin. She began to speak, “Sir, I believe there is a problem…” and then stopped. Her eyes darted from the man to the suitcase, and then back to the man. She seemed to ignore Blaire and Ariana entirely.

Blaire immediately began in the apologetic tone that he only reserved for customers he had made cross, “You see mam, I found this man in your room looking through your things. I’m sorry I couldn’t have stopped him sooner. I’ll clean up the mess.”

She blinked slowly and said, “That will do. What I was saying was there is a fight taking place in your dining room. I just thought you would like to know.”

Ariana nodded her head fervently and Blaire let out a sigh of weariness. I’ll be there in a minute,” He said in a bored voice, and Ariana saw his dark form amble from the room down the blackened hallway.

There was a long pause between the two women left in the room and when Ariana was just starting to feel awkward, the woman said, “Would it be possible if you left the intruder in here for a while. I just want to talk to him.” Ariana saw no harm in this, and gave her consent. She turned to leave, closing the door behind her. She was curious as to what the woman had wanted to discuss with the trespasser, and had to restrain herself from pressing her ear against the door, but shouts from the dining room sobered her.

She rushed to the balcony as fast as her stuffy waitresses uniform would permit, and looked down over the railing. Blaire had made his way to the fight and was now wrenching the bandit off the pirate. Ariana heard grumbles from the crowd, and gold coins were being passed back to their original owners. No doubt Blaire’s intervention had spoiled some bets.

He used one of his powerful arms to hold the bandit a full foot of the ground, and after a few more useless kicks at the air, the bandit gave up, and went as limp as a rag doll. The pirate spit blood out of his mouth and crawled to a table, resting some of his weight against one of the legs that wasn’t broken. Blaire raised the bandit to his eye-level, bringing the limp thug up to his intimidating six foot five inches in height. In a hushed voice, Blaire began to speak in his don’t-give-me-crap tone.

“Well, well. Where do you get off beating my customers?”

The bandit kept his head low, his eyes carefully out of sight.

“Well?!” He said in a more demanding tone. He shook him lightly by the collar.

The bandit slowly inclined his head to face Blaire and said, “He took my seat…” His slur almost made the words unintelligible.

“I did not!” The pirate said in protest.

“He’s drunk,” Blaire said matter-of-factly. “For all you know, he could believe you were his great-grandma. Trust me, if it didn’t pay so well, I’d make this place non-alcoholic.” He glanced scathingly at the bar, were some of the customers were deep in downing pitchers of ale, and a bartender wiped at the inside of a pewter mug.

He set the bandit back down on his feet, who swayed and became uprooted, falling flat on his bottom. He stared stupidly at the floor as Blaire went over to inspect the pirate.

“Sir, are you okay?”

The pirate wiped at his mouth with his sleeve and nodded, “I’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks. But I might need a place to rest tonight.”

Blaire’s face lit up, and he said, “We have plenty of rooms upstairs. I’ll give you a night free for your troubles.” He glanced around the room, and his gaze rested on Ariana, who was still leaning over the guardrail upstairs. He motioned for her.

She ran down the stairs and through the crowd, pushing past people as she went. She came to a stop in front of him. He lowered his voice and said, “Ariana, take the pirate to room sixteen. Make sure his comfortable and wait on him if he needs you. I think he’s hurting worse than he lets on.” He looked darkly down at the bandit. “I’ll take care of this one.”

She walked over to the pirate and held out her hand. She nearly yelped in surprise. Under splotches of blood, bruises, and dirt was a face that was almost unrecognizable, but nonetheless familiar.

“Master Shepard?” She voiced in delight.

The stranger’s face went blank for a moment, and then crinkled into a smile as realization dawned. “Ariana? Oh, it’s so nice to see you!”

John Shepard was a long time customer at Spireturn Inn. His ship, the Iron Maiden was docked in port near the Western boarders of Skirim, the town were Spireturn Inn was located. John took some days off every few months to return to some of his favorite haunts, including the Inn, saying it had the best lodging in town. Ariana had served him before, and had immediately found him charming. Even in the shameful condition he was in, he was as gentlemanly as ever.

He staggered to his feet to bow and when he began to keel over, Ariana caught him in time. He allowed some laughter to show in his eyes at his own clumsiness, and permitted her to sling his arm over her shoulder. She supported the small of his back with her arm, and they began the slow ascent up the stairs, conversing as they went.

“So, how is your ship?” Ariana’s soprano voice carried up the stairs.

“Oh, she wonderful. I just installed some more wood paneling.” Even as he said this though, his body went stiff.

“Really?” Ariana tried to seem like she hadn’t noticed the difference. She had a feeling he was lying out of shame, and guessed that something dreadful had happened to the Maiden. “That’s nice. I wonder what it must be like.”

“What’s that?”

“To sail. I’ve never been on a ship.”

“So you’ve told me.” The humor in his voice meant his body had relaxed.

“Oh, I did?” She said sheepishly.

He nodded. “Honestly, it sounds like you want to travel, the way you speak about it.”

“Oh…” She had never thought of it that way. Of all things, the last thing she need was travel. She had done lots of that against her will when she was young.

They had made it to the hallway, and she was now directing him down the path near the room were Blaire had yelled at the man on the floor, the room were a briefcase lay open and a woman sat in conversation with the same assailant…Ariana would check on the woman later, she decided.

She opened the door to number sixteen and laid Shepard gently on the plushy quilt of the bed. She propped a pillow under his left leg, which was starting to swell profusely, and walked over to the washstand. She pulled a handkerchief from her apron and wet it, wringing the excess moisture from the cloth.

Then she started to dab at his wounds, and when she was finished his face, his middle-aged features shone through. Rough skin the colored of leather, dyed by the sun and marred by sea salt was present. He had brunet hair and moustache neatly combed under all the blood and filth, and two blue eyes smiled with wrinkles at their corners. He wore a blue captains jacket, its gold buttons twinkling despite the cuffs and the collar being torn.

They made some small talk about the weather, enjoying each other’s company. When Ariana turned to leave, he said, “Wait!”

She turned in surprise, “Do you need something?”

He shook his head, and beckoned her forward with his hand. He dug in one of his jacket pockets, and after a few silent moments, produced a small shinning piece of crimson. She peered closely. Held between his thumb and his first finger was a small ruby. He took her hand and set it on her palm, closing her fingers over it. She suddenly understood.

“Wait, no! I can’t take this!” She protested.

He smiled and said, “This is for all your troubles. Besides, its not like I’m paying to stay the night, remember?” He winked. When she tried to object, he held up a kind hand and said, “Not another word.”

“Thank you,” She breathed. The ruby was no larger than the fingernail of her pinky, but it was still a ruby, nonetheless.

She left and strolled to room thirteen to check on the woman from earlier. She opened the door a crack to find that both the trespasser and the woman were missing, and that someone had cleaned up the shards of the vase the man had broken. The woman’s briefcase lay neatly on the bed, seemingly untouched. Not a single paper lay on the covers from before. Even though she was again curious at what the woman was up to, let alone were she was, she found the she had no reason to stay. The room was spotless, so she didn’t even have the excuse of cleaning up in order to poke around for information.

She sighed and closed the door. She went one door over to her room, number fourteen, stepping inside to greet the familiar surroundings. She flopped down on the cotton sheets of her bed, kicking off her shoes, not bothering to take off her uniform. Needless to say, the long day had left her bushed. She closed her eyes, and reached down to the ruby, which she had put in her pocket. She thought of what Shepard had said earlier. That she had wished for travel. She scoffed. She had had enough for her entire lifetime she tried to convince herself, but some small, hidden part of her disagreed. And now stroking the ruby’s smooth surface, she remembered as an afterthought that tomorrow was her sixteenth birthday. She closed her eyes and drifted on midnight currants towards sleep.

Chapter 2 The Inheritance

Life flowed normal for Ariana until the following night.