It was late in the afternoon when a farmer entered the local tavern. After hours of back-aching work, he could finally rest. He sat down in his favorite seat at the bar and tried to see if the crates next to the celler were holding any precious cheese. He couldn’t tell. Although he hadn’t seen anyone come into the village that day, he held out hope.

  “Hey Mason. What’d you got today?” The man asked.

  “Sorry Jeb, the merchants don’t come for another two weeks.”

  “Of course they don’t. Just when I got my hopes up. Always hated those sneaky types anyway.”

  “Who doesn’t,” Mason joked. “I’m sure they charge me much more than they do those city-dwellers, but I haven’t been there in so long I just don’t know. Those bastards.” He said, his smile quickly morphing into a scowl.

  “Well enough of this talk, I just finished tilling the last bit of the field, and I want something better than my wife can cook.”

  “I think anything is better than whatever she makes. The usual then?”

  “Just beer and soup. God knows, I can’t afford much more with this drought.”

  “I hear you, Jeb.”

  Right after Mason went into the back to get Jeb’s meal, the door swung wide open and a strange man walked through it. His clothes were an assortment of colors. His shirt was a bright red, pants were a worn out yellow, shoes were a curious mixture of blue and purple, and finally he had a hat upon his head that stood out with its garish mixture of all the colors of the rainbow. Jeb immediately decided the traveler was not someone he would like to meet.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Of course, right after he thought this, the terribly dressed man walked toward him, taking the seat next to Jeb. The traveler looked around and seemed to be tittering with excitement.

  After Mason came back and served Jeb, the odd man said, “Hello good sir, I would have your finest wine.”

  “We don’t have much and I’m not sure what it even is. Do you still want it?”

  “Anything will do.”

  Then, he turned to Jeb and said, “Good evening, my fine man. I’ve been going around the countryside, spreading the news. Have you heard of it?”

  Wearily, Jeb responded, “No.”

  “Really?” After waiting a moment, the man continued, “I’m surprised it hasn’t reached this village yet, even though it is quite small.”

  “Sadly, not small enough for you to skip it,” the tired farmer muttered.

  “What did you say? Nevermind, it isn’t important. Apparently, the prince tried to kill the king! I know, right. It’s insane!”

  Mason came back from the celler and said, “Here’s your drink, siree.”

  “Why thank you good sir.” The traveler drank it all in one large gulp and promptly spat it out. “What in the world is that vile liquid!”

  “Haven’t the faintest clue,” answered Mason.

  The garishly dressed man floundered for a moment, seemingly wanting to shout out his fury at this 'injustice.' Yet, he ended up only standing on his tip-toes pointing at Mason fiercely. Eventually, he only slumped down onto his seat in response.

  “Ah, it doesn't matter. So, neither of you heard about the king?

  “No, why does it matter to us,” asked Jeb, Mason nodding his agreement.

  “Well, how could it not matter? It’s the King!”

  “I really do not care about the King and whatever happens to him. I just want to sit here and eat my meal in peace, which you interrupted.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, sorry about that, but I had to share the news with someone!”

  “Share it with Davis, on the corner, if you give him a coin he’ll listen to whatever you say, no matter how worthless it is.”

  “Does no one in this town care about the King,” the traveler bemoaned.

  Jeb did not bother to respond.