Chương 147: Chapter 145: Angel Inn

"Like angel angel?" Gigi asks. I shrug.

"Why not? We've got demon kin. Maybe there are angel kin too. Maybe they can fly."

"Then why haven't they come across the ocean?" Ash asks.

"Too far," I say.

"They couldn't sustain flight long enough. It takes a dragon to do that."

"There could be angels," El agrees.

"Not like truly angelic creatures or anything. But people with wings? Why not? We should be ready for anything."

"I just hope they're friendly then," Ash says.

"And that they don't attack me on sight." I shake my head.

"That wouldn't make sense. They've probably never seen your kind any more than they've seen any of ours. Two different worlds. There shouldn't be any ancestral hatred or anything like that."

"I hope not," Ash says.

"Let's keep following the road and see what we come to."

"Would they even build on the ground?" El asks as we start moving again.

"I mean, do they live in bird houses and stuff? Maybe those poles were, like, a place to rest. Hang from the pole when you sleep or whatever. What if they don't use beds at all?"

"Then we're not going to be staying at their inn," Ash says.

"I'm not paying for a room unless there's a bed in it."

"I doubt everything here flies," I say.

"It's possible, but I'm guessing that there's a variety of species here same as there was in the old continent. As long as they're not constantly at war with each other, they probably take accommodations in mind." In the distance, I see some cat like creatures stalking alongside us. They're about a hundred yards away from the road, but they're keeping pace with us. Looks like there are four of them. One each. That's unusual. We don't often get to fight in fair numbers. I count the legs.

I'm pretty sure they're lynxiths. Six legs a piece. I point them out to Ash.

"We might be leading them into civilization," I say.

"Or they might break off when we get too close to civilization," she points out.

"We might not need to do anything with them."

"They would be fresh meat," El says.

"Just saying."

"I'm not fond of feline meat," Gigi says. That makes sense. She's part cat herself, after all.

"Do we fight them or not?" I ask. My bow is in hand, and I'm ready to get started if that's the decision we all agree on.

"I say leave them be," Ash says.

"They're a good sign of when we're getting close to civilization. They'll either stop following us and back off or stop following us and start hunting the people in whatever sort of town we find. If that happens, we'll engage them. Otherwise, let them be." The cats do back off after about an hour of stalking us. Seems wasteful; they spent all that energy hunting us just to give up at the last second without even trying to pounce and eat us.

That tells me that whatever we're coming up on is something that the lynxiths would consider to be truly dangerous. Something that has taught them that only death comes when they get too close. It's a building. I spot it just after the lynxiths stop following us. It looks like a bunk house or an inn or something like that. Really big windows, but otherwise it looks like any other inn we've come across. It's three stories tall, filled with light as dusk is starting to fall, and there's even a stable out back.

There are horses in the stalls. From the looks of them, they are work horses. Wide and strong rather than sleek like a riding horse. Maybe they're war horses. I don't know. I know very little about horses. There's a general din of noise coming from inside the building, and the four us cautiously approach the door. All our weapons are put away, because we don't want to give the wrong impression, but I know we're all keeping our hands close to the weapons in case we need them.

I summon Fire Bolt to the front of my mind, ready to cast it if we need to. It's like a movie when we open the door. All the noise suddenly stops, and suddenly you can hear a pin drop. The laughter and conversation all instantly die away as soon as we make our presence known. Sure enough, the room is full of angels. They look pretty much human, except for the wings coming out of their shoulder blades. They're all sitting on stools around tables, except for a few that seem to be waitresses or tavern keepers.

Aside from the wings, this whole scene is pretty common. They look like workers coming off a job. That's probably what they are. Maybe these are the people building the road. They went as far as they did, then started heading back. They left their equipment at the pole marker, then came here to rest and recuperate. Maybe they'll be back at it tomorrow. I lift my hand in greetings and give a nervous smile.

"Hello," I say. I've never been happier that I took polyglot.

"Ho there, stranger," says a very large angel. He's not quite rotund, but I can see him heading there in a few years. He was probably very fit in his younger years. I'm guessing he's the inn keeper.

"You're a long way from home, aren't you?"

"Do you recognize us?" I ask him.

"Have you seen our kind before?" He looks at all four of us, studying us up and down for a good solid minute. Then he shakes his head.

"Can't say as I have," he says.

"You from the west?" Do I tell him the truth? That we're actually from the east, from across the ocean? That we're from another world entirely? How much truth do I want to give this guy?

"We're not from anywhere that means harm to you or yours," I tell him with as friendly a smile as I can manage.

"We've been on the road a while, and wanted to get a nice meal. Is that allowed?"

"Do you have coin to spend?" he asks. I pull out my one platinum coin and show it to him. His eyes sparkle with greed.

"Let me clear you a table," he says, and hurries off to set up a table for the four of us. The rest of the occupants of the inn haven't really moved in all this time. They're still staring at us, still sizing us up. No one immediately reaches for a weapon, no one spits on the floor, and no one screams at us, so I count that as a win. The inn keeper returns quickly, ushering us to a spot far away from the other group.

"I've got stew and fine cold ale," he says.

"Sounds good," I tell him. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Gradually, the room comes back to life. The waitresses start moving about again, fetching beer and water. One of them brings us bowls of stew and huge loafs of bread to eat them with. I notice that they serve a lot more food than I would expect. It makes sense; they probably need more calories with the wings, so they're used to eating more. I certainly don't mind. The others don't seem bothered by it either.

The other patrons abruptly seem to come to a consensus that we're not dangerous, and hence aren't worth their bother. They go right back to their conversations, laughing and chatting with each other as if the four of us aren't even there. It's weirdly comforting to be ignored.

"So." Ash says as she eats.

"We know that there are other humanoids to the west that don't have wings. That tells us something."

"We also know that these angels are still just people," Gigi says.

"They don't seem hostile." I take a closer look at the inn keeper. He's level 40. The workers are all around that level too.

"Yeah," I say.

"I don't think we have to worry about them."

"So then this continent probably works just like the one we came from."

"The people are higher level," El says.

"Most of the workers in Elmspire were in the twenties."

"Money still spends," I say.

"Not sure how well; we'll see when I get my change."

"I've still got money in the group fund," Gigi says.

"I'll pay."

"Do you think there are guilds here?" Ash asks, looking around the room.

"The same faction guilds, at least, as in Marketplace?"

"I don't know," I say.

"Maybe. Might be able to turn in quests. Might not. Then again, we might have a lot of information that people will find valuable enough to give us money or quests to get a hold of."

"Like what?" El asks.

"We're from a different continent," I say.

"A different world. We have stories to tell, maps to share, all that kind of stuff. People might think that the world is still flat here."

"People know the Earth was round in like three thousand BCE," Gigi says.

"I'm sure they've worked it out here without circumnavigating the globe. Especially these flying guys. You can see the curvature easier from the air."

"We don't know much about the level of technology here," Ash says.

"We know that they have digging equipment, and looking around here we know that they don't have ubiquitous electricity."

"Ubiquitous," El says, nodding in approval.

"Good word."

"Point is, there's no electricity in here, and the lights are all gas lights. That suggests that they might be a bit advanced but haven't crossed into electrical territory yet." I look at Ash. She's really being a detective right now. I feel like that should be my job. What can I figure out looking around? No one is dressed in clothes that suggest mass manufacturing, so we're probably not in the industrial age. All the clothes look hand made, and the materials aren't all that impressive.

Nothing that suggests advanced techniques. These are just workers, laborers; it's possible that these are just their work clothes and they have nicer things that they wear when they're not working. But the innkeeper and the barmaids also seem to be in hand made clothes. Slightly higher quality, but not so much as it makes a real difference. I look at everyone's shoes. It's a habit I've had since at least high school. I like to think that you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes.

The way they wear them, the quality of the shoes, how much wear and tear they allow to build up before they replace them, all of it tells you about them as a person. So does how they handle laces, in shoes that lace up. Do they tie them tight or leave them untied? Do they keep their boots shiny or do they let them get scuffed? Do they have matte leather or more of a patent leather shine? Looking around, the workers all seem to have the same basic kind of boots. Work boots, effectively.

They're thick leather, maybe glossed a bit with wax to keep out water and mud, but not exactly designed for style. More for comfort. The barmaids have more stylish shoes. Not quite a heel – no one in their right mind would serve as a waiter all day while wearing heels – but a pointed toe and the illusion of a heel. Maybe just a tiny one that makes their butts a bit firmer and a bit more appealing, in the hopes of getting better tips. I compare those to our own boots.

We all have the same style of boot, because I made boots of the wanderer for everyone, so we could travel faster. But I can still see the difference in how they care for them. Ash's boots are shining and clean, meticulous and perfect, much like her armor. She must take time every night to shine it all up. Gigi's are a bit scuffed, but she clearly takes good care of them. She might just be behind in maintenance a little bit. El's are almost trashed. She might need a new pair soon if she isn't careful.

The toes are all scuffed up, and I wouldn't be surprised if she wears a hole in them soon. It just goes to show how much attention she pays to her own equipment. Well, I've looked at everyone's boots. I'm a little bit judgy of El right now, but other than that, I haven't learned a damned thing. The boots of everyone else in the room seem to be worn in, making me think that for most people, they only have one pair of shoes. That makes me think that this is more of that quasi-medieval style that we're used to.

Buttons. Maybe I should look at the buttons people have. If they have metal or plastic buttons, that will tell me a lot, won't it? Same if they just have wooden toggles or no buttons at all. Of course, to really look at the buttons means to practically stare at the barmaid's chest, trying to see the curve of her breast that she has artfully almost hidden. I don't want to be one of those guys, ogling the barmaid every time she leans over and exposes a glance down her shirt. Which she does pretty often.

It doesn't look like there are buttons at all. I don't look for long, not wanting to more than take a few furtive glances. I know she knows what she's doing, and I know she's doing it on purpose, but I still feel lecherous staring. Even if she is inviting me to do it.

"You okay?" Ash asks. I must be blushing.

"I'm fine," I say.

"I was just trying to put together some other information, see if I could figure out anything about the world."

"Any luck?" she asks. I shake my head.

"The food is good, though," I say.

"Lots of protein."

"Probably need it for the wings," Gigi says.

"Do you think they poop before they take off?" El asks. Her voice is, thankfully, lowered to a stage whisper, so I don't think any of the angels around us heard her.

"What?" Gigi asks, probably louder than she should have.

"It's a thing that birds do," El says.

"They vacate their bowels before they take off, so that they weigh less. Do you think these people do the same thing?"

"Like, automatically?" I ask. I try not to laugh at the image.

"I doubt it. I mean, wouldn't they all have a flap in the back of their pants if they did?"

"Ooh, good point," El says. She seems satisfied by that, and returns to her food. The stew really is very good. A bit salty, but I think that's to cover up some of the ingredients not being as fresh as they could be. The ale is a bit watered down, but it tastes like beer. That isn't exactly a positive thing, to my mind, but it's cold and it works for what it's supposed to do. I doubt any of us are planning to get drunk. We're probably going to move on after the meal.

"Should we get a room?" Gigi asks.

"Do you think they'll have beds?"

"Only if everyone sleeps on their chests," Ash says.

"I doubt it's comfortable to sleep on your wings."

"Doesn't mean they hang from the ceiling," El points out.

"Still," Ash says.

"I think we should move on." So we finish off our stews, our bellies feeling full and warm, and then we call over a barmaid to settle our tab.

"Four meals and drinks is four silver pieces," she says. Gigi takes out the coins and pays.

"It's weird that the money system seems to be the same," she says.

"You don't even get that going to Canada." That makes a weird amount of sense to me. It's another one of the gamified elements of the world. You keep a consistent currency all across the world. It's just easier that way. You don't have to worry about currency exchange rates or about suddenly having a bunch of worthless money. It's a convenience that speaks to a world wide banking system. There isn't one of those, which makes the whole thing feel a bit anachronistic, but it's the same kind of thing as languages.

You can have every major city speak its own language, but that cuts down on the amount of travel people are willing to undergo. If the goal of your world is to have adventurers that travel all over the place, there needs to be a common language, and a common money system. Otherwise, you're cutting down on the reasons to travel and adding reasons not to. So the world would be more realistic if I was the only one who could talk to anyone on this continent.

The chances of there being one language that spread across the world, despite a complete and total lack of communication between the two continents, are laughably slim. The fact that the people in Mountspeak speak the same language as the ones in Marketplace is incredibly slim. But there is a common language. It's not realistic, but it's in place to make things easier. To cut down on the barriers between people. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who can talk to people in this land.

I can never really tell, though. To me, all languages sound like English. That's the perk of my talent. I don't have to actually keep all these languages separate in my mind. Which is also not realistic, but is super convenient.