Kane and the No Name Pub

The No Name pub was just that: a pub that for various reasons was never named by Bill, the rotund and middle aged proprietor. Bill stood now at the bar, or what served as a bar, polishing glasses with a corner of his dirty apron. His oily black hair was thinning, and his cheeks slightly reddened from drink. His belly rubbed against the long single wide plank that rested one one side on an over large tree stump. the floor here was dirt, or sometimes straw, and the whole establishment only had three tables and twice as many bar stools.
Kane sat in a chair in one of the long narrow rooms corner's, the daylight filtering in through the poorly thatched roof. She slouched in her dress uniform, which was red leather at her midriff, black leather plates at her shoulders and long strips instead of a skirt. It was open to her left side, laced with leather thongs. Her pale hair was braided and slightly disarrayed as she tilted the heavy tumbler towards her mouth, gulping the brandy inside. She looked wan and thin, her forty years showing more than ever. Her eyes no longer rimmed red, but now black as though she had not been sleeping. She muttered from time to time. Into her drink or sometimes up to another patron. No one paid her any mind.

The door to the pub opened slowly, breathing fresh air over the smell of earth and drink. An old man entered, hunched under a ragged shirt and carrying himself on a long staff. He appeared to have fallen on hard times, and the dust of the road clung to his dark blue pants. His head was covered by a bloodied bandage, and he was missing some teeth, causing him to whistle as he inhaled through them. The man looked over bar. and hobbled his way over to the bar, settling down at a stool with a grimace. He flagged over Bill, and from a dry throat croaked a request for some ale, counting out some bits from his one good pocket. After Bill served the man his draught, he went back to his cleaning, muttering. The old man took a long pull of the watered-down ale, and leaned back, locking eyes with the woman in the corner, and startled, turning back to the bar. He flagged down Bill, asking a weak voice... "Th' lass in the cohner... She from 'round here?"

"Nay. She's from Seloria me thinks." The man replied matter of factly, wiping his double chin with the back of one hand. Kane heard none of the exchange, her eyes buried in her glass as they were. She thumped one closed fist down hard onto the table, causing it to teeter and her brandy to slosh over one side. Hand now wet, she raised her glass to her lips. "Watch it there, love!"

"Piss off, soldier." She said in a slur. "Not soldier. Them and the other ones maybe but not him..." She replied, her words trailing off into incoherent mutters.

"She's been like this for weeks. Never seen her like this before. Not like this with her muttering and cursing and drinking at all hours. Me missus don't mind though. We've been living fat off the hog since her troubles started. Oh but ain't that the way of things? One man's misfortune is the other's good turn."

The old man chanced a look over his shoulder, taking frowning at the boorish behavior. "Seloria, eh? Nevah 'eard offit. It cold there? Never 'ad a chance to travel much in me youngah years."

"Sad, tho. She looks like me eldest daughter, 'fore she died. Fevah. Terrible thing. Lost me son-in-law, too, to tha fevah." He took a long pull from the ale and leaned over to the bartender, speaking near a whisper. "Always good money in a good tale, tho. Wot's 'er story?"

Another time and Bill would have said no. But the man was clearly hesitating now. Not because Bill was close mouthed by nature, but because Kane was a friend after a fashion, and because she had always paid so well for her secrecy. She had so obviously put those days behind her, that he didn't much see the harm in telling the little he knew.

He shook his head slightly. "No one knows quite who she is, but shes a good person, and upright help yr fellow man kind of woman. 'Course she used to enlist the boys as messengers and even people such as myself for a few snatchings and the like. But my word to God the people showed back up a few days later, maybe a little worse for the wear but with a guilty look on their face.

"Lots of people with her, least used to be. People yu'd never see till they were right on yu, but like I said good folk. Never stole or harmed none. Helped out with the Jacobson murders a few years back. Caught the boys and just disappeared them. 'Course we all thought it was demon worship of some sort.

"She ain't big on talking. Makes me call her a different name every week. This week it's Cerana." He shrugged and went back to rubbing his mug as he spoke, happy she was to drunk to notice that he was speaking about her. "Like I said she's changed though. Just took a room at an Inn and drinks. All she does." He could not help but lick his lips. He waited for his gold.