The Sell Out

Abigail Scibiur

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“I am telling you the information is good Faris. Have I ever led you astray before?” the handsome middle-aged man said as he let his mug of ale land hard on the table. This exaggerated gesture wasn’t out of place in the mixed clatter of wooden chairs being dragged in and out of tables, murmuring conversations, bursts of laughter, and of course the constant rise and thud of similarly filled steins echoing through the crowded tavern. The smell of fresh bread and cooking mutton wafted through the air, making the environment even more inviting. Despite this pleasant atmosphere, the man across the table had an expression that remained unmoved. This man was younger, with a well-tailored black uniform that matched his well-kept dark hair. Two men in similar attire stood behind him as his entourage. They were not like the other travelers at the tavern, however, they easily blended into the mixed crowd.

The young soldier fixed his iron grey eyes on Gunthry’s exaggerated movements while his own fingers causally spun his cup of ale in smooth circles on the hard-oak table. “In your own way, I am sure you lead everyone astray.” Faris might have enjoyed such a relaxed atmosphere if he weren’t here on business. At the moment he was not enjoying himself, and he was losing patience.

“My information has always panned out before hasn’t it?” Gunthry said with arms stretched out. A bustling barmaid with arms full of mutton and ale had to quickly dodge these flailing arms to avoid losing a plate of mutton. Faris noticed this with a shift in his gaze, while Gunthry remained happily oblivious.

This barely avoided disaster set Faris slightly on edge, but he managed to redirect his gaze back to Grunthry. “For the price you are asking, I am sure you would risk being wrong for the first time.”

Gunthry rocked back in his chair—almost hitting the person in the seat across the way—then slapped the chair legs down on the stone floor with a loud clack. “C’mon,” Gunthry began as the chair landed, “the price is not that bad. You know I am always fair. No matter how much of a scoundrel you tend to think I am.” Gunthry was smiling, but swayed his head like a neighing horse, letting his shaggy brown hair flip around like a mane.

Gunthry’s face was already beginning to go red. He had always been able to hold his liquor well enough, but the bubbles of the alcohol were beginning to pop on the sharp spires of his still functioning mind, each time corroding the functionality down. Despite all this, Gunthry tried to maintain an aura of composure. This facade did not fool Faris. Gunthry’s speech was already starting to demonstrate just how many gulps of ale he had poured down his throat. Faris would have to act quickly if he wanted anything intelligibly useful from Gunthry.

Faris sighed. “What exactly is the information?”

Gunthry waved his sloshing mug of ale from side to side, the frothy foam bouncing from edge to edge. “Tisk, tisk, tisk. You have to pay for the information before I can tell you exaaaactly what it is.”

Faris half shuttered his eyes to keep them from rolling. “How am I supposed to know if it is even information I want if I don’t know what it is? And how am I supposed to verify it? … If I even want it in the first place?”

Gunthry smiled jovially while rocking back on his chair again, this time with a little more imbalance between the legs. “Old Gunthry thought of that my friend. As just a little clue,” Gunthry held his thumb and pointer finger out as an example, “the information has to do with the movements of a certain up-and-coming-conquesting-Scorillian-army everybody has been dying to learn about.”

Faris’s eyes widened ever so slightly. He too was dying to learn about the movements of the Scorillian army that had just appeared branching out beyond the borders of Scorillia, thought he tried to hide it. Gunthry continued, knowing from the beginning that he would have Faris hook at this point. “Why do you think I had you meet me at this slightly out of the way, yet tremendously pleasant, tavern? There is a niccce quick way for you to verify your information veeery close by.”

Faris shuffling slightly in his seat. He could barely stand Gunthry’s drunk ramblings now that the topic of the Scorillians had come up. But he knew that with Gunthry patience was key.

“Unfortuntaaately, by close I mean two or so ish hours. But! I am only going to be here till the night be over.” With this decree Gunthry took another sip and slammed it down with finality, starling nearby barmaid.

Faris leaned back in his seat a moment considering the situation. But in the end, there wasn’t much to consider. “Alright Gunthry, I am interested.”

“Thought you might be.”

Faris straightened his back once more, while his right leg tapped quietly against the stone floor. “Where is this verification and what should we be expecting?”

Gunthry swallowed quickly and wiped the corners of his mouth. “It is in the Echno Valley between the Vern River Bend and the Tomber Mount.” Gunthry looked down into his bare mug, surprised that it was already empty. He held it up, signaling for another with his twinkling brown eyes.

Faris stared at him with cold eyes during this uninvited pause. “And.”

Gunthry bottomed the mug trying to get a few more drops. “It is just a scouting camp, shouldn’t be more than ten or so men according to my informant.” Gunthry’s words echoed into the empty mug, but Faris wasted no time listening to the hollow sounds.

With the slight flick of his fingers Faris signaled for one of his men to step forward. “Confirm the location of this encampment with haste.”

The soldier nodded and briskly exited the tavern. Just over the bustle and murmurs of the tavern the sound of shouting men and neighing horses could be heard as a small group of riders departed from outside. Faris sat still, looking towards the door and the riders beyond it. Gunthry sat examining the bottom of his mug as if this would magically make it refill itself.

“I tried to get you close,” Gunthry said into the bottom of his mug, “but it is still going to take your men a little while to get there and back. I am moving out in the morning. I cannot stay long.”

Faris looked back towards Gunthry, the tension in his shoulders now slackened, and gave the ever so slight tracings of a smile. “I have the fastest riders this side of the Ridge Divide. Some of the horses are from across the Divide.” Faris paused to let these impressive details sink in. “They will make it back in plenty of time.”

These details did not sink into Gunthry.

Gunthry looked longingly around the room and spoke without even looking back at Faris “If you’re so sure.” Gunthry caught another glint in his eye as a new idea grazed his not so stable mind and looked back towards Faris. “But wouldn’t it be wise to pay me now and start getting the information before your riders even get back.”

Gunthry gave a particularly toothy smile now that he was thinking about money and not his empty mug. Faris only folded his arms. “You are not getting one coin till I get verification. If you don’t want to wait around for that, you don’t have to.”

Gunthry only looked longingly at the bottom of his cup “Fine fine.” He sighed out. He would need to find something entertaining soon if he was going to be here for hours.

Three hours past with little conversation between Gunthry and Faris. Gunthry joined another table for a little while, and even attempted a verse of a drinking song that no one at the table actually remembered the word to. Faris stayed seated at the table, occasionally passing orders between himself, the remaining guard, and the small camp of soldiers still waiting outside the tavern. He wasn’t letting Gunthry out of his sight till this was over.

Gunthry finished off seven more mugs of ale and Faris took some time to play a short game of cards with one of the remaining guards. Slowly the light outside turned from blazing afternoon sun to fading dusk. Before it could fully be called dusk a group of dusty riders galloped up to the lone tavern and its groups of camps.

The same soldier as before, now dressed in a muddy brown riding cloak that used to be black, entered the tavern. His dramatic entrance caused a slight disturbance as a few people looked up from their tables, but it was nothing that didn’t disappear into the natural flow of the room. His feet landed heavily on the stone with the weight of the news he was carrying. “There was a camp sir. From what we could tell, it was a Scorillan scouting camp.” The rider said breathily yet with forced in enunciations.

“Thank you.” Faris dismissed him.

“Didindn’t I tell you it was all good!” Gunthry shouted in celebration. “Aren’t you a glad man that you started getittting the information earlier now?” The steadiness of Gunthry’s chair legs was no longer in question. It was a small wonder that the chair was keeping him off the floor.

Faris was glad. He had started to worry about Gunthry’s composure after the fourth ale and one line of song. Faris had talked Gunthry into sharing his information just as his fifth ale was being poured. Faris had not paid Gunthry yet, but Gunthry did not seem to notice this. Gunthry was still feeling as though he had won the standoff.

“I certainly am,” said Faris. “Now the rest of what you can remember.”

Gunthry began filling in details, only a few of them new or useful, but soon Faris was convinced that he had gotten all the information Gunthry knew.

Faris began instructing one of his men to ready the whole camp to move out while Gunthry said farewells to his new friends at the table behind them. Before he left, Faris wanted one more piece of information, but he was unsure if he could get it out of Gunthry. Gunthry had some childish tendencies which Faris did not understand, but he knew Gunthry was no fool, but he also knew Gunthry was a loose-tongued happy drunk.

“Out of curiosity,” Faris said as he rose from the table, “what is this infallible source you got your information from?”

Gunthry turned to face Faris again and fell back into his chair. “Ohhh, this poor little Barillian girl came tearing through my camp. She had had a run in with the Scorillians on her way somewhere…but got away. Good brains I think she’s got. Well, at least a mind for memory. On her escape from the camp she told me she tripped through one of their tents and saw tables all set-up with maps and diagrams. Apparently, she could decipher all the Scorillian’s movement plans by that all-alone. Amazing right! Got me to give her a ride in the direction of Barillia by letting me know all the routes to avoid for the Scorillians.”

After a slight pause Gunthry gave Faris his most telling smile. “Naturally, I thought you might be interested in this information, my good old friend Faris of the Riventhen Riders.”

“Brilliant assumption.” Faris smiled, but not in awe of Gunthry’s assumptions.

After haggling the price a little more, the two men shook hands in agreement. Gunthry, drunk as he was, still managed to haggle his weight in gold. Faris pulled out a small purse of coins, counted it out, and gave it to Gunthry.

Gunthry began gathering up his newly refilled coin purse. “Well I best be getting back. Travel bands don’t run themselves.”

“A pleasure doing business with you, as always, Gunthry. You really are my favorite informant for these parts.” Faris said with a curt nod.

Gunthry started on his way out the tavern door and shouted back as he left. “It is hard to tell that sometimes.”

Outside the tavern, once Gunthry was just out of sight, Faris called out to a man in civilian clothes. The young man promptly turned and started walking to where Faris was standing. This young man could pass for a young boy or a full-grown man. He was wearing the ordinary travel clothes customary of the Bathen Plains, although he had spent no more than three collective months in any of the Plains. Earlier, he had been sitting in the tavern at the table across from Gunthry and Faris. He had been part of the merry group who had attempted to sing. Now, once in front of his captain, he listened intently for his new orders.

“Follow the caravan leader back to his camp. See if you can find anything out about this girl he is talking about. She may know more than what we have learned from Gunthry.”

The generic young man readjusted the satchel around his back and began casually strolling in the direction Gunthry had walked down.