Salazar and the rest, discovered a cavernous hall. Its high, vaulted ceiling crisscrossed with thick beams of timber, lost in the smoky haze rising from chandeliers. Large columns and tables squared the room. And at these tables sat dozens of people. Older boys and young men, a few girls and women among them. Some wore simple tunics, some were in leather armor. Some had immaculate faces, some had scars and beards. They were all turned towards the entrance, and they were all smiling. At them.
A roar went up. A cheer of genuine welcome. They banged their fists on the wooden tables, they stomped their feet on the stone floor, they raised heavy tankards high in the air. The sound crashed over the forty initiates, a wave of thunderous applause and jubilant shouts.
"The new blood is here!"
"Welcome to the mess!"
"Come in here brothers and sisters!"
Damn… For real ?… Even he, was moved. It reminded him of his arrival on the discord server of this role-play and the warm welcome he got. Welcome he mocked.
Were they the guys from discord ? Were they "real players" ? Was he trapped in this world, while others were just writing and chilling on a forum ? It would be absurd…
He felt their warmth, with his heart. He regretted his bitterness.
Yet, he couldn't entirely part from it.
He smelled the food, the woody scent of roasted meat, the sharp tang of mulled spices, the sweet perfume of baked apples and the dark, malty smell of ale. A king's banquet to enjoy.
Yet, he couldn't but think about the last meals of death row inmates…
His comrades walked in, faster than him, and joined different tables with the older apprentices vigorously welcoming them. Salazar watched them go by, and bit his lips.
The will to let go, and be part of the group, was pounding on his chest. But he tightened.
It was nice, but… it was not a welcome. It was a farewell.
He watched his comrades starting to eat, and even chat with their elders, as he sat on an empty table apart from them, his hands hid under the table to conceal his injury.
Dario was who he was, in his element, already making friends. Lynos was escorted out by a young man… to the toilets, he supposed. Ange was with a group of boys, having fun as well. While the elf with white hair was welcomed by older girls. Salazar realised this girl was catching the attention of a lot of people here. He wasn't that weird in the end.
He observed the tables and the food as the elf disappeared behind the group.
A colossal boar was in the center, its skin burnished to a perfect, glistening crackle, lay on a platter big enough to serve as a shield, an apple stuffed in its mouth.
There were mountains of roasted fowl, their skins golden brown. But what really caught his eyes, was a large red and scaly bat-like wing. Was it a sort of little dragon ? Drake meat ?
More food was brought by "domestics". Deep bowls of thick, meaty stew that sent plumes of savoury steam into the air, and pyramids of strange, jewel-toned fruits he did not recognise. Wooden trenchers overflowed with roasted root vegetables, glazed with honey and herbs. Loaves of dark bread, still warm from the ovens, were stacked like firewood.
Nothing was brought to him though. He sighed.
"Hey, why are you here, come with us !" told him a boy he didn't see approach.
He was of sixteen years maybe. He had short auburn hair, and a pristine pretty face for a monster hunter. Small nose, brown-amber eyes, good stature. A natural confidence emanated from him. What does he want ?
"I prefer to be alone." answered Salazar, calmly.
"You'll have time to be alone in the grave, little man. Hey, come."
"… I'm fine…"
The boy smoothly sat down in front of Salazar, and crossed his arms on the table, leaning towards him. Salazar frowned. Stop acting cool, jerk. Are you having fun mogging a child ? he thought, needlessly bitter.
"You prefer to be hungry as well ?" innocently asked the older boy.
"I am not hungry." lied Salazar.
His stomach gurgled. The guy slightly laughed. Damn.
"Alright, listen, tell me what you want, I'll bring it to you."
Salazar sighed. His eyes indirectly answered with his eyes on the big scaly wing.
"Oh, yeah ? A wyvern wing for the solitary boy. Well, a part of it. I'll bring you that."
Ok, maybe he's genuine…
The wing was already shredded to pieces by the others. Salazar's new friend managed to get a good chunk of it though. He took some bread and stew with it too and came back. He slid it all in front of Salazar.
"Enjoy."
"Thank you…" answered Salazar, before taking a bite on the wing. It was crunchy, crispy, and spicy. Pretty much like tenders, with a stronger taste.
As he was chewing, he realised this guy was still looking at him. Salazar felt a bit awkward.
"You wan' some ?" he managed to say, mouth full.
"Nah thanks, I'm fine, I don't eat lizards."
Salazar nodded, although a bit troubled.
"What's your name, solitary one ?"
Salazar swallowed, and looked into his eyes.
"Why does it matter ? I'll die soon, or else, you'll know it."
The elder apprentice seemed surprised by Salazar's answer.
"Well. I want to remember all my brothers, and sisters, faces and names, fallen or not."
Salazar's jaw dropped, he swallowed again. This guy really sounded genuine. And he was cool. The chad taking care of the incels… Damn man, this place is way too wholesome…
"My name is Salazar." he said, omitting his full name.
"Nice to meet you, Salazar. I am Gonrad. Welcome to the Watch."
Gonrad held out his hand with a smile. The right one of course. Salazar bit his lip, and took out his injured hand with fake confidence and shook Gonrad's. He probably noticed his swollen hand, but didn't comment.
"I can't wish good luck to everyone of you I believe… I can just say that you will be remembered."
Salazar slowly nodded.
"I'll check the others, you should join Salazar. Anyway…"
And he went away, letting Salazar wonder if this Gonrad would say the exact same words to everyone. Irony aside, there was competition for the main character spot, it seemed. He wanted to be that kind of guy, confident and cool.
As he finished his meal, the feast became more and more festive. They were all laughing, dancing, jumping on the tables at the rythm of the singings, the clatter of knives on platters and the thud of tankards on the tables.
A boy, of fourteen years maybe, with blonde hair and… pointy ears, was playing a sort of little guitar, and singing a balad for the gathering.
It was a scene of pure, unrestrained revelry.
Salazar couldn't resist the urge anymore. His eyes met with Dario's, he enjoined him to come with great hand gestures. Salazar smiled. He got up, and walked towards the group.
But just as he was nearing them, the doors of the refectory swung open with a loud, echoing groan. Salazar looked back.
A soldier stepped inside, voice cutting through the chatter:
"Gather the children! Sir Morvid has announced the beginning of the Mutations!"