For heralds, coaches and caravans travelling along the King's Road, mounts would be exchanged every eight leagues with wayposts established for that purpose. As a result, the distance between wayposts came to be known as a 'post', which in time became more common a measure of travelling distance than the league or the mile. Most seasoned Adventurers would try to at least make two posts in a day, but that was asking too much from a crew of Rookies with no trekking experience, so one post was all they could manage.

Pawel had long since forgotten just how weak and slow you were when you were just starting out. Even with years of Atrophy having brought him down from his peak, he could have nearly made the entire trip to Weinsberg without stopping and only been mildly fatigued, but with the children he was pushing his luck to even get two miles out of them without needing to rest.

In order to reach the waypost before sunset, Pawel kept the children on a rather strict schedule of about one hour up and one hour down. This was not time enough for them to fully recover, especially not the weaker ones, but Pawel anticipated this and spent an additional three thousand denarii to stock up on Stamina Potions to make the trip. Even with this additional measure, however, the children were pretty well exhausted once they reached their destination.

Here in Lower Midgard, the inns along the King's Road were fairly nice, but accommodations varied based on your wealth and status. For Adventurers of modest means such as themselves, they could expect about the same as Guild Hall. Straw mats on the floor were nothing to sing about, but having a roof over your head beat roughing it in the open air, and after their first time having salt pork and hardtack for lunch, even a meager bowl of porridge would seem like a meal fit for a king.

Before stepping into the inn, Pawel glanced over toward the stables and thought about how nice it would have been to hitch a ride with one of the merchant caravans, but riding in a cart would not earn you any XP. Walking on your own two feet would, and even such modest gains would get the children ever closer to levelling. A not entirely practical part of Pawel hoped the children would dump all their bonus points into Constitution for the next few levels so they would not run out of Stamina so quickly, maybe set aside a portion for Strength to improve their Encumbrance. Good luck convincing aspiring Mages and Clerics of this, though. A lot of Players were min-maxxers in a bid to get the most potential out of their Job and while it could grant them great power, it also left glaring weaknesses. Pawel imagined one of the reasons Ruslan pushed him to cross-rate to Mage was to keep him from becoming a big meathead like Oscar, which is probably how he would have turned out.

Setting aside thoughts of character growth, Pawel turned to the children and said, "Alright, kids, line up an' stay close. We're gettin' a room for the night. We'll get some chow, wash up an' turn in early. We'll head out at firs' light. We clear?"

There were some scattered murmurings of assent.

Most of them straightened up and delivered a proper "Yes, sir!" That would have to do.

He saw Zofiya give him a look. She knew exactly what he was doing. Probably the same memories of Ruslan's training were going through her head. He had no compunction about running the squishier members of the Troop ragged. Jun was about the only one stubborn enough to continue to focus on her magic at the cost of all else. Oh, how she and Ruslan used to butt heads...

Pawel opened the door and Baumgarten the innkeeper was there at the counter waiting for them. He was a big man with a bushy moustache and ruddy cheeks. The missus certainly kept him well-fed and he was certain to have generously sampled the ale she brewed for their customers. Quality control was important, after all. He had put on a good three stone since the first time Pawel came this way and the only thing thin about him was his hair.

Normally one group of Rookies would stay in Axios until the next one arrived. They might even stay longer, but if space started to run out in Guild Hall, they would be encouraged to make way for the new arrivals. Baumgarten had been running this inn for close to twenty years, so he knew exactly how things worked.

About fifty years or so back, the Hostellers got a little idea from some Adventurer and created a common ranking system for accommodations with standard rates, so you'd know exactly what you were getting and how much you would be paying for it. The Tin Plan was the third rank, which offered straw mats in big common rooms, two meals and a bath, all for ten denarii a head. The Copper Plan below it skipped the meals and bath to cut the price down by half, and then there was the Clay Plan at the bottom for truly impoverished, where you paid a single denarius for a night in the hay loft.

Pawel had most of his advance from the Guild paid out in quarter-mark notes because he knew this was the easiest way to pay for their stays along the way. He drew out three of the notes and put them down on the counter.

Baumgarten offered him a quill and inkwell. It had been so long since Pawel last used a quill that he had to be careful that he did not just make a big ink blot. As he started to write his name, muscle memory kicked in and the letters began flowing smoothly. Pawel Adamowicz, Zofiya Valadko, Fedor Bradov, Zsuzsanna Szusza, Arjun Krishna, and...

That just left the African boy and the other girl, Chinese maybe. If Jun was around, she could probably tell the difference.

The girl went first, saying, "Zheng Leishi."

That left the boy, who Pawel was not sure if he had ever heard talk before. It took a little encouragement from Zofiya for him to speak up and say, "Yayyo. Yayyo Solomon."

So that was all of their names. Pawel did not much concern himself with whether or not he got the spelling right. It was a lot of names and he wanted to move things along.

As Pawel put down the quill, Baumgarten turned the guestbook around to look at what Pawel had written, then looked up at Pawel and said, "That be ye, Pawel? Pawel 'Damowitz. Why, I ain't seen ye in a dog's age, 'Ow be ye, me boy? Ment'rin' the yung'uns, I sees. An' still wit' Miss Zofiya. Lovely as ever, lady." He paused, looking around a bit before asking, "But weren't there 'nother 'un? Estern lass as I recalls. Miss Yun, was it?"

For peasant fare, even a few bits of meat left over from the meals of the upper classes was something special. Pawel had no idea what kind of background the other children came from, but unless they made it big as Adventurers, they were going to have to get used to living like this. At least Adventurers had a shot at moving up in the world. That was not really an option for the vast majority of the NPCs. You had the lot you were born into and that was that. He supposed Earth was not that different, especially when society looked pretty much the same some four or five hundred years ago.

Pawel simply smiled and said, "Give the missus our thanks then."

Pawel motioned for the children to follow him, saying, "Come on, kids, let's go wash up."

The Hostellers had mostly standardized the baths in Lower Midgard. For the Tin and Bronze Plans, there was a separate building in the back of the inn divided into two halves for male and female guests. Each side could accommodate about ten bathers at a time. As Baumgarten had said, the Tin Plan got you two buckets of cold water and one bucket of hot water. The Bronze Plan changed the ratio to one cold and two hot, which was worth the expense in the winter.

Before you got to the bath, there was of course the changing room with baskets for your clothes and lockers for your gear. The Bronze Plan included laundry service, so they would take your clothes while you were bathing. Either you had a clean change of clothes ready or you could rent tunics for the night. If you were being economical, most places permitted you to wash your clothes in the bath, though any more water than the basic allotment would of course cost you extra. They were only one day out, so they did not need to worry about that just yet.

As Pawel unshouldered his pack, he motioned to the lockers and said, "Anythin' you want kept safe go in these lockers here. Don't lose the damn key now."

Although Pawel had more gear than the children, he was well-practiced enough to have it all stowed before most of them were even halfway done. The lockers were usually big enough to hold the average Adventurer's kit, but in some places they had separate areas to hold things for you. Other parts of the World would insist that you surrender your weapons at check-in, but that was not the case here. The keys to the lockers were on strings that you tied to your wrist so as not to lose them, but if needs be, the innkeeper had a master key to open the locker if you somehow lost your key. You would, of course, be obliged to pay for the lost key, which was especially painful for Adventurers on a tight budget. You might find yourself scrubbing pots and pans for a few days to make up for it.

By this point, the children had gotten used to the communal baths at Guild Hall, so Pawel did not have to deal with any complaints about the situation. Some cultures back on Earth took a dim view to the idea of communal bathing, but if you wanted to bathe in privacy here in the World, you had to be willing to pay quite a bit extra for the luxury. The Silver Plan and up would afford you a tub in your room or something similar, but they were not going to have that kind of money anytime soon. Besides, communal bathing helped build the bonds of Party members. You have nothing to hide when you have nothing to hide, as some would say.

The bath itself was a simple tiled room with a drain in the center and shelves running along the walls. At the back, there were two little hatches like pet doors with sliding trays to deliver buckets of water, cold on the left and hot on the right. Pawel rang the bell to get the first delivery, six buckets of cold water and three buckets of hot, keeping with the two-to-one ratio of the Tin Plan, but that only covered the allotment for three of the seven of them. Still, with a little creativity, they could make the most of what they had.

Pawel went ahead and took one of the buckets of cold water and doused himself with it. He then offered the boys the empty bucket, saying, "If you wanna mix the hot an' cold water, here you go. Once you've used up all the buckets, put 'em back on the trays an' push 'em in so they can refill 'em."

He left them to figure out how they wanted to divvy up the water while he went over to one of the shelves to get a soap cake. The wealthy could afford fancy perfumed soap, but for the common folk, you got simple blocks of lye soap. This was another thing Pawel was glad the children had already gotten acclimated to over the past few days or else he would have to deal with the complaints about how it burns. Reason not to waste too much time rinsing off, but that would depend on how quickly the buckets got refilled.

Not the brightest, this one. A good thing Archers do not need to rely on Intelligence that much. They were not as bad as Fighters, but they were close. It must have been hard for Clerics and Mages to put up with them. Was it irony for Pawel to think that when he himself was a Fighter and Zofiya and Jun were a Cleric and a Mage? He was not sure. He had lost quite a few INT points from his time in Atrophy.

Back to the task at hand, a simple day of walking was not enough to get them too dirty, so there was not much need to use the scrub brushes provided on the shelves with the soap, but to make it feel like he was doing a proper job of it, Pawel gave himself a quick scrubbing while he waited on the next delivery of water. Cheap lye soap like the kind they provided here tended to burn if you were were not quick to rinse it off, so Pawel appreciated that whoever was working at the baths did not take too long to get them that water.

Although Pawel was allotted three buckets of water, he made do with two so that he could wrap things up quicker and so could the children. He wanted them to get chow and turn in early so they would be properly rested up for the morning. At the rate they were going, it would be another five days to Weinsberg. Once they got settled in there, the children could start taking jobs and beginning their careers as Adventurers in earnest. If all went well, they could clear the First Trial before the end of summer.

Back in the changing room, each basket for the bathers' clothes had a linen towel for drying off. They were of course nowhere near as well-suited to task as modern-day Earth towels, but it was better than waiting to air-dry or putting on your clothes while you were still dripping wet. Once he was reasonably well dried off, Pawel hung the towel on the rack near the exit, then got dressed and geared up.

As he did not need to have a sword on his hip or a helm on his head to eat Frau Baumgarten's pease pudding, he stowed most of his gear in his pack and intended to do the same for the children once they got their stuff out of their lockers. He was glad that he paid extra to get a Large Rucksack as he was stuck playing the pack mule for the two Parties. Perhaps he should have considered paying for an actual pack mule. How much would that have been? Maybe he would have to look into the going rate once they got to Weinsberg. Adventurers tended to be split on the merits of having beasts of burden along for ranging. On the one hand, less Encumbrance meant the Adventurers would expend less Stamina and be in better fighting shape. On the other, the animals were often easy targets for Monsters and if they got killed, then the Party was stuck lugging around all their gear anyway, so what was the point of all the expense that came with keeping such animals? It made more sense to just have your Party members with Strength builds do most of the heavy lifting or else teaming up with a Monster Charmer or a Golem Master who could bring something a little more robust than a common Beast.

One of the nice things about boys was that they did not tend to take too long in the bath, and by the time Pawel was dressed, already the children started to make their way back to the changing room.

Pawel pointed to the drying rack and told them, "Hang your towels up there when you're done with 'em." He then kicked his rucksack and said, "Anything you don't need to be carryin' 'round, stick it in here. No need to be all kitted out here in the inn, right?"

The boys took Pawel's suggestion and stuffed his rucksack with as much of their gear as would fit. Pawel was already carrying a fair bit of stuff for them, stuff that they would probably need but would have exceeded their current meager Encumbrance limits. In a way, it was easier starting out with next to nothing because your capacity to carry gear grew along with your capacity to acquire it. However, Pawel and Zofiya were not going to take any more chances than they had to with the children in the care, even if it twisted the usual Rookie experience.

Pawel and the boys returned to the inn's dining room, which had six round six-man tables, plus an additional six seats at the bar. They split their number between the two tables closest to the exit, leaving room for the girls when they returned. Pawel was not quite feeling chivalrous enough to wait on them, though, mostly because he wanted to try to get the boys settled for the evening sooner rather than later and there was no telling how long the girls were going to spend in the bath. If they were not careful, they might miss out on supper, but surely Zofiya was aware of that and would be moving them along.

Baumgarten's daughter Little Marga, who was not so little anymore but still a good three or four stone slimmer than her mother Big Marga, wore a number of hats at the inn. She helped her mother with the cooking, did most of the laundering and cleaning, and was presumably apprenticing to become an alewife, but at the moment she was working as the serving wench. She delivered up the bowls of pease pudding first, then the greens, then the bread, and lastly the ale.

By now, Pawel did not have to deal with any complaints from the children about being served small ale. Especially the American and to a lesser extent the Canadian acted as if they were being served up a bucket of cyanide. It was difference in culture that Pawel could not understand, nor did he particularly want to. Of course, whatever things were like where they came from, none of that mattered now. The World had its own ways and they were going to have to adapt.

The boy nodded as he took his first spoonful. When they went back to the Great Temple for the children to choose their Patrons, the Guild covered a trip to Chapel of Manaan to cure him of his poor physical condition, so he could handle normal food now, but it did not hurt to take it slow and easy. It would take time for him to put some meat on his bones, but because he was a Mage, he would not need to worry about it as much.

Arjun started to get up, but Pawel put his hand on Arjun's shoulder and sat him back down.

While Pawel appreciated Arjun sticking up for Fedor, he did not need any fights breaking out. The American was a pain to deal with, but once he got a taste of some actual ranging, that would sort his personality out or else he probably would not last too long. So long as he was Pawel's responsibility, Pawel had to do what he could to make sure the latter did not happen.

He managed to get the boys to finish their meal without much more fuss, but once they were done, the girls were not out of the bath yet, so he decided to send the boys up to the room in the hope that they would be settled down by the time the girls were ready for bed as well. One benefit of them being so worn out from the day's travel was that they did not put up much resistance to the idea of being sent to bed early.

Once that was settled, he went back down to check on Zofiya and the girls. It turned out that he came back at just the right time. A pair of Soldiers, the household troops of some Noble judging from their livery, were hovering over Zofiya, who was warding off the one girl Fighter from trying to come to her aid.

The Soldiers looked like little more than upjumped Ruffians and the worse-looking of the two was doing the talking.

Pawel glanced at the young Noble sitting a couple tables away with a Soldier and a Servant standing by. As he started to walk over to the young Noble's table, Zofiya told him, "Pawelek, don't."

Pawel gave her a wave to signal it would be alright, though she almost certainly would not agree. As he approached, the Soldier at the young Noble's side stood to bar the way, gripping the hilt of his sword. Pawel had left his own sword in the room with his pack, but it was probably for the best. If he had his sword, he might just find himself inclined to use it.

Looking past the Soldier, Pawel said, "You must be the young master." He glanced at Zofiya. "You've got a good eye, kid, but bad luck. The lady's called for."

Pawel suppressed the urge to crater in the young Noble's face then and there and instead said, "I'll do you one better. You want company? I'll pour your drinks for you."

It was too late to stop him at this point. Without taking his eyes off the Soldier, Pawel took the bottle of wine off the table and uncorked it. He then placed his hand on the Soldier's shoulder and pushed him aside so that he could proceed to slowly pour out the bottle over the young Noble's head.

The young Noble and his attendants could only stare gormlessly, but of course they would. For all the power and privileges Adventurers enjoyed, there was a certain level of restraint that was expected to be observed for the sake of harmony with the People of the World. Adventurers were to obey the Law and the authorities who represented it, and that meant deferring to the Nobility. If Pawel were a sensible man, he would have exercised the restraint that was expected of him, but he had crossed the line and he knew it. Things were only going to get worse from here.

Pawel caught sight of Zofiya face-palming out of the corner of his eye. She knew just as well as he did the mess he had just gotten himself into. Maybe if Jun was there, she would have kept this from happening. Too late to be worrying about that, though. At this point, he could not back down, but he also had to avoid doing anything that would get him carted off to some Punitive Company. This would be a fine challenge.

Zofiya was quietly ushering the girls out of the room just as the shock of Pawel's actions was wearing off. The one Soldier who was harassing Zofiya was the first to speak up, shrieking, "Ye, Ye kint do tha'! Ain't ye 'eard me said tha' 'es the son an' heir o' 'Is Lordship!?"

The young Noble was shaking in barely contained anger as he said, "You think you can get away with this, peasant?"

The young Noble looked back and forth at his Soldiers before demanding, "Well, what are you waiting for? Cut down this insolent dog!"

Before the Soldier nearest to him could draw, Pawel seized his wrist, then snaked his other arm around the man's neck and held him in a headlock. He was not going anywhere, so that just left the other two and the young Noble if he was fool enough to try something himself. Little Marga screamed as the other two Soldiers drew their swords. Pawel's instinct was to break the neck of the Soldier he was holding and then use the body as a shield before he killed the other two. At that point, the young Noble and his Servant probably needed to die as well, but what would he do then, kill the Baumgartens and their hands to leave no witnesses? He may have been straying from the straight and narrow, but he had not fallen that far.

All this was going through his mind in a split-second and there was not much more time for him to make his decision and act. It was so much easier out in the field where you did not need to hesitate when it came to dealing with threats and indeed you would not last long if you did otherwise. Mercifully, for the sake of all parties involved, everything was brought to a swift and sudden halt and a powerful voice shouted, "Hold, damn you!"

The Soldiers stopped dead in their tracks and without letting them out of his sight, Pawel turned his head to see who the owner of the voice was. It was a Noble with a Chevalier among his retinue. Although Chevaliers were traditionally the elite warriors of the Nobles, these days it was nothing more than a title for many, but this one looked like he could handle himself in a fight. The Noble looked like he had a bit of grit to him as well, even if he was past his prime. Neither one would be a match for Pawel, but they were a cut above the three Soldiers.

The young Noble sprang up from his seat and pointed an accusing finger at Pawel, sputtering, "Fa, Father! Look at what this, this cur has done to me!"

The older Noble looked at the young Noble still dripping with the wine Pawel had poured on him, then looked to Pawel and said to him, "Sir Adventurer, would you care to explain?"

He seemed rather calm about all this, so it seemed only fair that Pawel should respond in kind.

The older Noble placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head slightly, the way Nobles would greet their peers, and said, "I am indeed Randolf, son of Bertolf, Baron of Ornstein. And how are you called?"

Pawel released the Soldier he was holding, but eyed the other two and said, "You mind tellin' those two to put away their iron?"

The Baron nodded and told the two Soldiers, "Put them away."

Once the two Soldiers sheathed their swords, Pawel then said to the Baron, "Your boy here was lookin' to take liberties with my woman. I took offense."

The Baron made the same salute as before, only this time he bowed his head a little lower, saying, "Then as his father, allow me to apologize on his behalf."

The young Noble looked aghast at this, shouting, "Father! What are you doing, bowing your head to this brute beast!? You are the Baron of Ornstein!"

Lèse-nobilité was similar to lèse-majesté but for Nobles instead of Royals. The sentence was not usually quite as harsh, but if you were low enough on the ladder, the outcome would often be much the same. It was not a trivial charge and Adventurers did not have immunity from it, though they did not have it quite as bad as the peasant classes.

The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Pawel imagined he was intending to negotiate a more peaceable solution, but now that his son had issued the challenge, he would be honor-bound to see it through.

He then asked his son, "Do you intend to claim satisfaction by your own hand, Rudolf?"

The young Noble flinched at this, perhaps finally starting to realize how outclassed he was, but of course he could never admit as much for his pride's sake.

The Chevalier at the Baron's side was apparently Sir Armin judging from the frown he gave at being volunteered, but chivalry had its rules, so he simply replied, "If it is Your Lordship's will, I will stand for the young master."

Pawel may not have been the most reasonable person, but the Baron did seem to be a fairly reasonable sort, and that sort of thing had a way of making a person feel like being fairly reasonable in turn. Between the Law and his own honor, there was only so much the Baron could do under the circumstances, and Pawel thought it would be a poor thing to make things any more difficult for him.

Pawel accepted the Baron's hand. The Baron drew him in close and whispered into his ear, "Sir Armin is a good man and I would hate to lose him. Spare his life and I will pay you his worth."

Pawel would have to check with a lawyer later, but he was pretty sure the weregild for a Chevalier was several million denarii. It would only be a drop in the bucket toward buying their ticket home, but at this point in the game, it would be a massive boon for them.

The Baron took a step back, shook Pawel's hand and gave his arm a pat with his free hand.

With that, the Baron then said to his entourage, "We have caused trouble enough for the Baumgartens for one night. Let us retire." He nodded to Pawel. "Sir Pawel." And then to Zofiya. "Madame."

The Soldiers had sense enough to keep quiet as they withdrew. The Chevalier, Sir Armin, stayed behind, though, and once the others had gone, he told Pawel, "I have no illusions about my chances, Sir Pawel, but I will stand for my honor and the honor of my lord."

So it would seem that he had caught on to the Baron's little deal with Pawel. They were all adults here. So long as everyone understood how things worked, there would be no problem.

The two shook hands and Sir Armin left Pawel and Zofiya to themselves. A few moments of silence passed between them before Zofiya said something.

Pawel nearly told her, "You could've poured drinks for that asshole," but that was not fair to her and he knew it. There were other ways he could have gone about resolving the situation and about the the only way it could have gone worse was if the Baron had not showed up to intervene when he did. He could try playing it smart for a change and concede the point in exchange for a little peace.