A/N: This is going to be the start of a series of short stories I will be writing. They won't be related at all and although you might find me using the same characters some times, I doubt it will be all the time, or even in the same setting/world. These are just moments of inspiration for me that I decided to write down.
I'd love it if you could leave a review and let me know what you think/could be improved/what you like, etc. I really want to improve my writing and am always open to constructive criticism.
Silver and Gold
The door creaked loudly as Vrim pushed it open. Automatically, the four heads in the tavern turned.
So much for entering unseen, he thought sourly, ignoring the stares from the regulars. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself in this wretched city. He'd have the Authorities all over him if they got even a sniff of who he was.
When they realised he wasn't anything special, all heads returned to rest drunkenly on the table or to staring at the ale in front of them. The only eyes now on him were those of the barmaid. She came over to where he had taken a seat in the corner, a dusty glass in one hand and a mouldy rag in the other.
"You wanted something?" she asked icily. Her eyes were untrusting. She seemed to know he wasn't just there for a drink.
"The finest ale you've got!" Vrim said, winking at her. He smiled his trademark smile – the one that had all the women in the city lining up at his door. "And make it two." He hoped the one he was meeting wasn't going to be late. He didn't want to be in this place for any longer than necessary.
The barmaid gave him another uncertain look and then disappeared behind the bar. She returned moments later with two, tall mugs of ale. "Five gold pieces," she said unkindly, sticking out her chubby hand.
Vrim pulled out his heavy pouch of gold pieces and handed over five. The barmaid's eyes widened when she say the amount of gold he had.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he answered her silent question, tucking the pouch back in his jacket. He patted it for effect.
Vrim drank the ale silently. A fight broke out between two men in another corner, but he ignored it. Every time the tavern door was pushed open, he would glance over. He didn't know what this man looked like. He had to wait to be approached.
The cold city air would drift in and out, causing Vrim to shiver. From the corner of his eye, he watched the regulars as they ordered mug after mug of ale. The city was a place he had never felt comfortable in. Perhaps it had something to do with the Authorities being after him since he had been nothing but a small child.
"You the Reaper?" a gruff voice suddenly breathed into his ear.
Vrim turned to find a man in a long, grey coat. His matching grey hair poked flimsily out of the hat he was wearing, giving an aura of danger. His hat concealed most of his face and in the dim light of the tavern, Vrim couldn't distinguish any of his features.
"Yes," he replied fearlessly. There had been many strange people he had met in his lifetime. No one scared him anymore.
The barmaid walked past, wiping down tables with her filthy rag. She shot the two men strange looks, but ignored them otherwise. This tavern was reputable for its unfriendliness. It was part of the reason Vrim had chosen to meet with the stranger here. He hoped they would go unnoticed.
"Got it?" the man asked in the same, gruff voice.
In the pocket opposite his gold, Vrim retrieved a pure silver slab. Silver was more valuable than gold in this city. To have gold, people were considered wealthy. To have silver, they were considered stinkin' rich. It was rare and was the source of many illegal dealings amongst people like Vrim. He had been trading it illegally since he was a small child.
"It's all there?"
Vrim nodded. "Yes."
"Because if it isn't, the boss's men will find you." It wasn't a warning, it was a threat.
"I'm not called the Reaper for nothing," Vrim retorted. "You have your silver and I want my gold within the next week."
The stranger nodded. "You will have it by then," he promised. "Good day, Reaper." And he was gone before Vrim could blink.
"I hope there is nothing going on in here that will threaten my business," the barmaid said snappily, waving the dirty cloth in his face. "And he didn't drink his ale. That is fine ale, it shouldn't be going to waste."
Vrim smirked. "Guess I'll just have to drink it then." He picked up the second mug and swallowed the fine tasting ale in one swig.
"Filth," the barmaid spat, before waddling back behind the bar.
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