As I shuffled through the doorway into the main bar room, I was instantly grateful for Godfrey's subtle lighting scheme. My head throbbed incessantly and the churning in my stomach accompanied by the acid reflux left me feeling rather tender indeed. I turned my head to my right as I moved my pathetic frame toward the bar. Godfrey stood behind it, illuminated softly by the number of candles that lined the length of the worktop. I had a quick look around before slumping down on to the bar stool. It was fairly difficult to see anything else, although it was obvious enough that the furniture was strewn around in a rather unorderly fashion. No doubt from the previous nights festivities. Had it been a good night? The room itself although not being especially long or wide, was high enough to accomodate a deck which was accessed by a winding staircase at the far end of the room opposite the main door. Godfrey had told me he built this himself with his bare hands, which wasn't a rare boast to hear from small business owners, be it Ferrymen to Farmers; they were all out their building something with their bare hands. I suppose it bolstered their authenticity as trustworthy and adept in their craft. And to look at Godfrey, I could believe he had constructed a deck. Not that I felt it had any bearing on his ability to pour alcohol into a glass.

What did fill me with confidence in regards to the man however, was the respect he commanded as he stood behind that bar of his. Like a member of the Imperial Guard manning his post. Maybe that had something to do with his massive frame, or the look in his eyes that told me he'd seen enough to know he wouldn't be taking anymore.

'There you go' he said, pushing a glass across the bar with a very generous measure of whisky contained within.

I stared at the glass for a second, waiting for my body to react to the prospect of drinking more, but it seemed to be on side with Godfrey.

'I thought you said that breakfast was served' I asked, not in the slightest bit upset about the lack of food before me.
'Well considering I haven't seen you eat anything solid since you got here, this would be your breakfast' he bellowed, removing a sod covered glass from a drying rack next to the sink.

As I slumped forward in the bar stool, I raised my right hand up to locate the throbbing in my skull. On making contact with my scalp, I could feel something rough embedded in the skin there, and then something wet.

'Hair of the dog that bit you' Godfrey said, impaling the glass with a clean, white dish towel.

Pulling my hand away from my head, and holding it in the candlelight; I could clearly see it was stained red. My head was bleeding.

'How big was this dog, Godfrey?' I asked, wincing as I run my fingers across what were clearly tiny shards of glass dug into my scalp.
'He was a formidable hound. And he wasn't alone either'

I pushed my folded arms down on to the bar in front of me, and tried to piece together an account in my head; of what might have unfolded the previous night. Certainly I'd remembered feeling varying degrees of merriment as the alcohol consumption continued on. My fellow patrons had been agreeable sorts though, who had taken umbridge to my being here?

'So when you're finished your drink there, I'll ask you to kindly vacate your room, and the premises' Godfrey said, fetching another wet glass from the rack.
'What?' I asked. 'Are you kicking me out?'
'Indeed I am, boy' he chuckled in a manner one might even describe as jolly. 'This is the third altercation that has taken place since you got here, and I'm unwilling to further clean up any mess left by your violent temper'.
'Violent temper?' I asked, struggling a little to understand exactly what had transpired.
'Yes. Now don't get me wrong, you seem like an amicable chap when you're sober but after a few too many; you are like an uncaged beast. And that is bad for business. Everybody here knows that Keystone is a town with extremely lax Imperial Guard presence, essentially; lawless. But if I have a guest here that everybody knows is prone to psychotic outbursts whilst under the influence, then I have a problem. Eventually, somebody will come knocking on that door, and that's attention I don't want or need, lad'.
'How long have I been staying here' I asked, quietly contemplating the beverage in my hand.
'Two weeks'.
'And how much trouble have I started?'.
'Well, your first was admittedly rather low scale. Nobody really got hurt, apart from the fellow who was struck by the Post cart as he ran into the street. He was a coward however, so I can't really hold that one against you'.
'OK' I responded, the clear brown liquid catching the light playfully.
'The other three however. Not at all low scale'.

I leaned back on the stool and looked around at the immediate area in front of the bar. It certainly looked like an altercation or two had taken place. Odd however that Godfrey would decide to throw me out on to the street. I was under the impression that Keystone revelled in the anti-social behaviour of those who passed through here. Not that I could blame the guy for wanting to keep trouble on the outside.

'So I'll be looking for another place to rest my head' I said solemnly, maybe a little too solemnly. I wasn't fishing for pity.
'I was under the impression that you meant to travel North on the Great Archers Way' he said, emptying the rack of it's last glass.
'You were? I mean, you are?'
'You did say something about that when you first got here'

I had said that, although the more I had stayed in the one place, the more I questioned whether there was even any point in me leaving the coast.

'What is it that you're searching for?' Godfrey asked.
'Nothing' I replied.

Don't know if that's strictly true.

'You sailed over 200 miles for no reason?' Godfrey laughed, placing the last clean glass on it's rightful place behind him. 'That wouldn't be the first time I've heard that. Seems like a lot of young men come to Redbrook in search of nothing. Most of the time, I watch them haunt this place and other establishments along the main drag here until they either dissapear, or worse; don't dissapear'.
'Come again' I said, finally taking a slurp of the whisky in my mouth.
'You seen the body hanging from the old Blacksmith's building, didn't you?'
'Oh. Oh yeah, I did. He wasn't a local then?' I asked, savouring the biting flavour of the drink in my mouth.
'Keystone has a very... active population, lad. The numbers fluctuate regularly'.
'Well I didn't come here in search of gold or security, Godfrey. Redbrook's reputation is well known in the Peninsula, so I'm hardly flying blind'.


Godfrey laughed again, propping his formidable frame against the rear of the bar.

'Go ask the rotting carcass swinging in the wind whether it felt like it was flying blind' he said.

I could feel myself losing my temper slightly.

'So what should I do, hop back on the boat and sail back to where it is I came from?'
'I'm not saying that. You came here for a reason, even if you don't feel like sharing that reason with me, which by the way; is a damned good policy to have. Loose lips sink ships and all that. But if you came here with the intention of continuing north, then by all means; continue'.
'So you won't recommend me another Inn, in Keystone then?'
'No. What I could recommend however, is that you arm yourself before you walk through Keystone's main gate'.
'Arm myself with what?'
'A sword maybe? Crossbow? The Blacksmith could probably help you out with that kind of thing'.
'You mean the guy with the rotting corpse dangling in front of his entrance'.
'No. I told you that, that is the old Blacksmith's building. We have a new one now. The old one was murdered'.
'By the hanged guy?'.
'Exactly'.
'Well that's all fine and well, Godfrey, but unfortunately I'm running somewhat low on funds now, and really doubt whether I could stretch to purchasing a sword. Or a crossbow'.

He looked at me for a moment. I could tell her was trying to figure me out. Hell, he'd been doing it since I first propped up this bar two weeks ago and asked for a room. He turned for a moment, then again to face me before popping a small knife with a wooden handle on the bar in front of me.

'Now you be careful, because that is sharp' he said, with not a hint of mocking in his voice.

I stared at it for a moment.

'What is this?' I asked, as if that wasn't already obvious.
'That is the knife I use to slice fruit' he replied.
'You want me to take this?'
'For defensive purposes yes'.

I picked it up and continued to look at it. The blade itself was about five inches long. Maybe. And covered in what I could only assume were lemon pips. I looked at Godfrey.

'Well if you can't afford anything else, then I can't in all good conscious send you out there completely without protection'.
'You use this to cut fruit?' I asked, not quite sure whether I should laugh or feel irate at his bizarre gesture.
'Not anymore I don't' he said with a wink. 'I hope it serves you well in the field, son'.
'In the field...? Godfrey, unless I come up against some kind of demonic fighting fruit out there, I doubt wheth...'

I cut my sentence short due to the entrance of the bar being flung open.