Chapter Five

Oscar Sandwedge shuffled the tables around in the bar as he pushed the broom around the floor. This was the same routine he took part in every morning whilst his employee, Clive, cooked breakfast for any patrons who were now conscious. This was never a great number, but Oscar hated cooking and so he selected the more mundane chore for himself when the sun rose. He always swept the floor first before mopping up the stains that did not disappear under the bristles of a broom. Running an inn was a profitable occupation, even in a small town like Sodbury, but it could be hard work. He leant on his broom for a minute or two, debating whether or not to take a break for a cup of perko to eliminate the boredom. Oscar could not be bothered to boil the water for a cup of perko, so he did what he always did when something required more effort than he wanted to give, he shouted for Clive.

"Codpiece!" he shouted. "Time for a break."

The sound of footsteps running down the stairs informed Oscar that he did not need to shout any longer. Clive ran into the room and placed a pile of sheets on the bar, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he turned towards Oscar.

"Why do you never do the perko?" asked Clive.

"Because I'm the employer and you're the employee," said Oscar. "I'm giving you a break here. What are you complaining about?"

Clive thought about making the point that Oscar had interrupted him halfway through his chores, just so that Oscar could get refreshment. He also considered complaining about the nickname that Oscar called him, Codpiece. Oscar called him this in reference to the size of a particular part of Clive's anatomy. Now Clive was only a small fellow, and Oscar would regularly remark that what Clive lacked in inches of height, the gods of Rust had compensated him for, somewhere else. Clive thought about commenting, but then he bit his tongue and headed for the kitchen.

"Oh, and bring in a couple of biscuits with you as well," Oscar shouted after him.

Oscar smiled and walked behind the bar. He unlocked the till and counted the night's takings. He loved these tills because they were so secure. A troll called Drogface invented Ripoff tills. The metallic protective device installed in the till would rip your arm off if you entered the password incorrectly twice. After one incorrect attempt, the till would voice a warning to the user before the second attempt.

"Are you sure? This could be nasty," it would say.

This usually meant that rather than take the risk of a slip up for the second time, the owner would call the very expensive engineer from Ripoff Industries. It was for this reason that Oscar was always very careful when entering the code on the till. It was also the reason that he never emptied the till at nighttime, preferring to use the code only when he was sober.

The inn used to be an old farmhouse that was auctioned off as part of a land sale when the owner died. When he bought the building, he was not sure what he wanted to do with it. His first thought was to turn it into a stable or maybe a general store. He only decided on an inn when he realised that most of the travellers passing through the town had to camp out in the fields. Oscar stumbled across this niche market by chance, and his good luck had led him to make a small fortune. Clive reappeared with the perko and a packet of biscuits wedged under his arm.

"Good lad, Codpiece," said Oscar.

Clive frowned at Oscar but handed him his drink. Oscar took a deep swig from the cup and smiled at Clive.

"I know you think I'm a lazy old fool, but one day, this inn will be yours," said Oscar.

"Really?" asked Clive.

Now Clive had numerous conversations with Oscar but never had Oscar hinted that Clive would inherit the inn before.

"Don't look so shocked. I have no family and you're the only friend I've got," said Oscar. "Who else would I leave it to?"

Clive suddenly felt very humble and bowed his head.

"Thank you, Oscar," he said.

Oscar slapped Clive on the back.

"I never had children and now it's much too late," said Oscar. "I look upon you as a son, Codpiece."

Clive did not know whether he should feel honoured or throw up. When did Oscar turn so sugary? Thankfully, Oscar brought the conversation crashing down to its more common level.

"You, however, will have plenty of children. Especially with that thing between your legs," quipped Oscar.

Clive finished his perko and picked the pile of sheets back up from the bar, when the customer service bell started to ring. There were twelve rooms in the inn and each of them had a pull-cord inside which when pulled would tug a string attached to the corresponding bell downstairs.

"Which one is it?" asked Oscar.

"Number twelve," said Clive. "Isn't that the room where that dangerous looking fellow is?"

Oscar nodded his head and smiled at Clive.

"Yes it is, Codpiece, which is precisely the reason why you're going to attend to the gentleman and not me," said Oscar.

Codpiece mumbled something about employee exploitation and put the sheets back on the bar. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of room number twelve when he reached it.

"Who is it?" asked the voice from inside.

"Room service," said Clive. "You rang the bell."

The door swung open and a shirtless Raven stood in front of Clive, towelling his hair dry.

"Ah, the little fellow with the big..."

"Clive, my name's Clive Badbeard," interrupted Clive.

"I thought it was Codpiece," said Raven.

"That is the proprietor's nickname for me," said Clive. "It's not my real name."

"I wonder why he calls you that?" said Raven, laughing. "Quick, come inside. There is something that I want you to do for me."

Clive walked inside the room and shut the door behind him. Something about this man made Clive very nervous and very wary.

"Would you like a cup of perko or some breakfast cooking?" asked Clive. "I could have something ready for you very quickly."

"No, not yet. Perhaps later. I came here with a friend but he sort of left unexpectedly, so there is just myself here at the minute," said Raven. “There is a task he was to undertake this morning. I would like you to complete this task for me. I will pay you, obviously.”

"As long as it’s not dangerous," laughed Clive, nervously.

"It shouldn’t be," said Raven. "But you can never tell for sure in these parts."

Clive raised his eyebrows.

"That’s not exactly reassuring,” said Clive.

Raven ignored the statement and continued.

"There is a stable facility about two miles from here. Do you know of it?" asked Raven.

"Millers," said Clive. "Yes, I know it."

"Good," said Raven. "Outside there is a wagon and two horses. I hired them from the Millers and need to return them. I would like you to take them back to the Millers for me and pick up the deposit that is owed."

Clive breathed a sigh of relief at the simplicity of Raven’s request.

"I can do that," said Clive.

"Good," said Raven, opening the door and ushering Clive outside.

Raven gave Clive one gold piece for his trouble and closed the door. One gold piece just to ride up to the Millers and walk back, thought Clive. What a great start to the day. Clive ran back downstairs and told Oscar of the errand. Oscar did not question this, as he knew better than to upset the customers, especially the dangerous looking ones.