The murmuring in the room swelled in volume, and Reynard noticed the patrons' increasingly intense glares.
They were clearly irritated.
Some exchanged quiet words, and others just observed with cold, suspicious eyes. A robust man, with scars on his face and a fierce look, stood up and approached the counter.
"Is there a problem, Rosalinda?" He asked, his voice deep and loaded with suspicion as he looked at Reynard.
Rosalinda shot a worried glance at Reynard, fearing his reaction. Seeing that his expression hadn't changed, she let out a relieved sigh before looking at the man. "No, Mr. Brannon. I'm just explaining that we don't have any rooms available."
She explained professionally with a light smile, her green eyes staring directly at him.
Brannon forgot to breathe for a moment.
'An angel...'
She was so close. Her skin seemed so soft and radiant from this distance. A sweet scent filled the air, a blend of exotic flowers and something else he couldn't quite name, but which made his nose tickle.
The proprietress was so beautiful!
Realizing he was distracted, Brannon let out a dry cough and returned to glaring at Reynard with harsh eyes. Raising his hand, he pointed a finger at Reynard's face. "Then this man had better understand that and find somewhere else."
The tension mounted when he said this, and the air seemed heavier. Reynard felt the challenge in Brannon's gaze, and for a moment, the silence was absolute.
"Brannon, right?" Reynard murmured, looking curiously at the man.
He didn't understand why this man was bothering him.
What had he done wrong?
Reynard just wanted a few rooms for the night and didn't know the reason for all this fuss, much less why these men were so alert regarding him.
Maybe he was too handsome, which awakened their envy?
"Do you know who I am?" He asked a simple question, facing the man.
"I don't care who you are! If there are no rooms, drop the subject!" Brannon spoke harshly, puffing out his chest. He looked around, continuing: "Isn't that right?"
"That's right!" Noticing the cue, someone shouted.
"Just because you have money doesn't mean everyone has to follow your orders!"
"Get lost!"
"Idiot!"
Some drunk men gathered the courage and yelled from the tables. Brannon puffed out his chest even more upon realizing he had the support of the people around. Expressions of defiance and satisfaction spread through the hall, fueled by the alcohol.
Reynard continued to stare at Brannon, and a strange smile appeared on his face.
After a few rounds of shouting to drive Reynard away, the inn fell into an eerie silence.
Reynard wasn't moving.
Rosalinda, who watched the whole situation, felt sweat trickling down her forehead, while Sylvia watched with curiosity.
"Can anyone here beat Brannon?" Reynard suddenly opened his mouth, breaking the silence.
"?" Brannon was momentarily confused.
He didn't understand what Reynard meant by beating him, so he looked around. The expressions of the other men also became strange, as if they struggled to process the meaning of his words.
"Can anyone break his arm?" Noting the public's confusion, Reynard reformulated his question. His calm tone gave the impression that he was talking about something trivial.
'Break my arm?' Understanding what he meant, a mixture of anger and contempt took hold of Brannon's chest.
All the people here were commoners and harbored some resentment against people like him, so Brannon didn't think they would help this man in front of him do something like that.
And even if they did, who would dare fight him?
"You want to break my arm?! How dare you!" Brannon shouted angrily. His facial scar twisted, giving him a fierce appearance. He moved closer to Reynard, stopping in front of him.
He was tall. Perhaps three heads taller than Reynard. His large body exuded ferocity. A blast of alcohol reached Reynard's nose, making him frown.
The surrounding patrons grew excited and began to yell, cursing Reynard and agreeing with Brannon.
"Bastard! Don't you know your limits?!"
"Even if you have some money, you're still a human like us! Be careful with your words, or you'll be the one with broken arms!"
"You break his arm, coward!"
"Who does he think he is?" The angry voices cursing him mingled, but Reynard continued smiling, unmoved by the hostility.
Rosalinda, on the other hand, was the person most worried.
These men were causing her so much trouble! How could she not know their intentions?
Rosalinda was no fool.
She knew they were doing this to try to defend her, to try to win some favor from her, but their actions were only making things worse. Rosalinda was kind, but even she found it difficult to keep calm amidst this chaos.
Internally, she was dissatisfied!
And what Reynard said next made the voices cease, shutting everyone up.
"I'll give one silver coin for every broken limb of Brannon's." Reynard pronounced slowly, raising a finger. His words were slow, confirming that everyone heard correctly what he said.
And they did.
"One silver coin?" A hesitant voice whispered.
"Hey, that's a lot of money..." Another voice grumbled.
"How many limbs does someone have?"
"Four...?"
Some began to calculate as the buzzing took over the inn.
Brannon felt the glares directed at him and began to sweat cold.
They weren't thinking of doing this, were they?
The patrons' eyes shifted, turning from support to evaluation. They were assessing Brannon. The silver glittered in their eyes. He was like a pot of gold, and the possibility of earning it began to outweigh the momentary camaraderie.
Reynard watched with a satisfied smile.
"G-guys, we're friends. You can't listen to him! This guy is using money to buy you off!" Brannon shouted, clenching his fists. He looked at Reynard, thinking about advancing toward him.
"..." Rosalinda.
But he couldn't do that.
Not in front of her!
"I don't know this man called Brannon very well. I'm new to this inn..." Someone spoke, rising from their chair.
"I'm not too familiar with him either." Another man followed, seeming to fear that the pot of gold would be stolen before his eyes.
"Yes, I also only met him a few days ago. In fact, I had the impression he was trying to court Miss Rosalinda..."
The voices grew louder as more and more people rose from their seats.
Seeing this, Brannon shouted at Reynard: "Be a man and come fight me personally! Don't use money, you coward! Let's have a fair fight! I challenge you!"
"Money is power too." Reynard let out a sigh, shaking his head. His gaze held pity, as if Brannon were a dead man.
Unwilling to stay there any longer, Reynard picked up the three silver coins on the counter and faced Rosalinda, waiting for her response.
She hesitated.
"Still no room?" Reynard asked calmly.
Looking at the patrons who seemed eager to start a fight inside her establishment and Reynard's question, she didn't need to think any further. "I just remembered that I have one vacant room. If the young sir doesn't mind..."
She whispered, squeezing the apron with her slender fingers.
"That will do." Reynard nodded, ignoring Brannon, who stared at him furiously, not daring to make the first move.
"Of course. This way, please." Rosalinda nodded and, after casting a look at the agitated men and Brannon, she guided Reynard toward a side staircase that led to the inn's second floor.
Reynard followed Rosalinda upstairs, some strange noises sounding behind him immediately after.
"You coward!" Brannon's furious shout echoed downstairs, his fists clenched. Feeling the glares behind his back, he slowly turned his face to look at the crowd, which now stared at him with hungry eyes.
"Let's talk... alright?"
***
Upstairs.
"Young sir..." Rosalinda stopped walking upon exiting the men's view. Her lips parted, though she couldn't manage to say what was on her mind.
"Just say it." Reynard, who was carrying Sylvia with Eleanor's help, stopped behind her upon noticing her behavior.
He just wanted to get to the room quickly to take a bath and sleep.
"The thing is... I don't actually have any rooms available to rent."
Reynard frowned.
"Then what?"
She had clearly said there was a room for him moments ago, and now there wasn't?
Rosalinda leaned slightly forward in an apologetic posture, her shoulder accidentally brushing Reynard's chest.
"I still have my room. It's simple, but if the young sir doesn't mind using it, you can have it. At least you will have a safe place to spend the night, and I can sleep downstairs." Rosalinda spoke quickly, fearing he might misunderstand.
Sylvia and Eleanor, who watched without saying anything, looked suspiciously at Rosalinda upon hearing this.
Eleanor didn't want to interfere and seemed a little intimidated by the earlier situation, so she remained silent, letting Reynard decide. As for Sylvia, she simply didn't want to talk.
Her room?
Reynard looked Rosalinda up and down, contemplating something. Then he smiled. "Alright. Show the way."
If she was offering, he would accept.
His confirmation was all Rosalinda needed. She quickly guided them through the inn corridor, heading toward another, more secluded area.
"Young sir, this is my room. It's simple, but I hope it will suffice." She opened a door at the end of the hallway, her fingers brushing Reynard's hand for a second as she extended her arm.
An accident.
Reynard smiled, assessing the place.
The room was modest but cozy. The bed was large enough for two people and was impeccably made. A light, sweet feminine scent lingered in the air.
"Please, rest. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs at the counter." She started to step away but paused at the door threshold. As she passed Reynard, her body brushed against his.
The contact was quick, but the soft pressure of her hip against his thigh lingered a third of a second longer than necessary.
"Good night, Young Sir." She whispered with a smile. Bending slightly, she quickly left the room with fast steps.
Watching Rosalinda leave, Reynard closed the door with a smile.
"..." Eleanor.
"..." Sylvia.
"What?"
The two didn't say anything.
Reynard just smiled, setting Sylvia down on the edge of the bed with Eleanor. Now that they were in the room, they could relax. After some conversation, Eleanor managed to take Sylvia to the bathroom to clean up.
Having nothing to do, Reynard stayed in the room.
Rosalinda returned some time later with food. Without entering, she handed over the food and quickly left.
But not before shooting a glance at Reynard.
Eleanor and Sylvia came out of the bath. Rosalinda had prepared some clothes for Sylvia, so it wasn't a problem. Even saying she would be fine alone, she would still spend this night with them.
The bed was large enough for all three. However, for safety, she demanded that Eleanor sleep in the middle. Reynard didn't mind, accepting without complaint.
In the dead of night.
Reynard woke up. Confirming that the two were asleep, he got out of bed and left. As he descended the stairs, the inn air was heavy, and the silence was deep.
The visitors had left, leaving behind the mess of empty tables and glasses.
Reynard didn't notice any signs of a fight, and Brannon was nowhere to be found.
He scanned the area until he found what he was looking for.
There she was.
Rosalinda was behind the counter, wiping it with a wet cloth. Her angelic face looked tired from the day's work.
Hearing the steps, Rosalinda looked up.
"Ah, Young Sir. Do you need something?" She asked upon noticing Reynard standing there.
The apron seemed a little tight on her figure.
"Just stepping out for some air." He commented with a smile, his gaze drifting from her to observe the mess.
"Looks like it was a profitable night."
"Good business brings good customers, doesn't it?" She grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from behind the counter. "I was just about to have something to relax. Would the young sir like to join me?"
As she placed the glasses, the neckline of the apron slipped a little further to the side than would be appropriate for her personality, giving Reynard an alluring view.
They were large.
Rosalinda seemed not to notice.
"I'd be honored."
The wine was poured.
"Please, don't call me 'madam' or 'miss'." She whispered, pushing one of the glasses toward Reynard, her fingers lingering for an extra moment on his hand.
"It sounds too formal. Please, young sir. And as for me... you can call me whatever you like, when we are alone." Rosalinda took a sip of the wine, tilting her head to look at him over the rim of the glass.
"You're a new man around here, and I don't even know your name."
"Reynard." He replied with a smile, taking a sip of the wine. The liquid was strong and earthy.
It wasn't bad.
"Reynard?" Rosalinda murmured. "It's strong. It suits you."
Reynard smiled in response, lowering the glass. "So, what's the price?" He suddenly asked.
Rosalinda was confused by the abrupt shift. "Price?"
"You know. Your services."
The sound of clinking echoed as four silver coins were tossed onto the counter.
Seeing this, Rosalinda laughed, a low, husky laugh that barely reached his ears. "You're misunderstanding something, Mr. Reynard. I don't offer those 'services'."
Despite saying this, her eyes remained fixed on the coins.
Reynard smiled, and the clinking sound echoed again.
Another coin was tossed onto the counter.
"Are you sure?" He asked again.
Rosalinda swallowed hard.
If any man were looking at her now...
She truly seemed like a kind lady.
That is, if it weren't for the pink flame dancing above her head.
***
Author's Note:
Chapter 20 (complete NSFW scene) is already available early on Patreon
[ https://www.patreon.com/c/LazyPig59 or search for LazyPig59 ]