A Party Walks Into A Tavern
Day 0
An Inkling Of What’s To Come
At the crossroads of the King’s Way and Hastrid’s Pass, where the Whispering Woods thins and the Mortvale River bends stands a half-timbered, triple storied, cruck-framed structure. No other establishments are located within at least a mile in any direction, and that’s exactly the way the building likes it—less competition and lower standards make for better-behaved guests. Its floorboards creak and its pipes groan, but its lantern is always lit.
The proprietor of this establishment is widely known as a witch of great renown, which is probably the only way one can be widely known. She’s regionally known as Belladonna Fitzwright and more lovingly known as simply Bell. For the last thirty years, Belladonna has served as the cantankerous building’s sole caretaker with the help of many well-crafted spells. It’s said the very walls breathe under her witchy will alone.
That is, they did until the morning came when Belladonna received an urgent letter, packed up the necessities, and left. Very few witches are irresponsible, though, and Belladonna was no exception. She wrote her own letter, sealed and sent on a spell to find its oblivious recipient, and made sure to give the building’s sign a magical thump on her way out so that it would change to read:
Fitzwright Inn
Under New Management
akcaggiano.com 