"Aye, we can do that! Right lads?" said one of the farmhands, a loud "AYE!!" came from the rest in an instant.
Even though he wouldn't show, Sigvald was also eager to enter - anticipating the tender taste of sirloin and boiled potatoes on his tongue. Before he knew it, the group was already pushing the doors to the inn open with lifted spirits. The inside was as cozy as one could expect, all of the walls were showered with a warm shade of honey and gold - same as the ships in the harbor. Despite this, the establishment was rather empty. Only two tables were taken. leaving more than a quarter of the place empty.
Like confused tourists, they stumbled around and found themselves a round table - one which seemed surprisingly new. In fact, everything around them was in pristine condition, even though no one would notice because it looked rather dull - in a good way, of course. The group sat down, admired the interior and waited, and then waited some more. After a short time while exchanging a few ideas about what to order, the group started to get impatient, there was no sign of the waitress - or "tavern wenches" as the country folk would call them.
"Where de' bloody ell' is the wench?" one of the farm hands expressed passionately.
Like an owl, Sigvald disapprovingly tilted his head at this expression "You mean the waitress?"
"Yeah, that's what we call em'! Where are they at I wonder?" this time a different farm hand replied.
"Probably polishing some tankards, lads! Or who knows, maybe they will show themselves once they fix their skirts up? Hehehe." another one added. The eagerness in their voices made Sigvald question weather it was intended for a plate full of food or a soft ass to squeeze. Either way, they were right. The waitresses were missing, and he did not like the lack of professional service.
With the rough sound of black steel on wood as he pushed himself up form his chair, the gold trimmed knight stomped towards the counter - his gold covered sword scraping against his thigh. Making his way there and leaning against the counter, he scanned for any signs of a waitress. As he did, he heard rumbling just below the counter he was leaning on. Curious, he leaned further to get a better view. Someone rather short in the dark below the counter was polishing a small keg of ale, or was it wine? Sigvald's mouth curled into a smile as he eyed the person - and the more he did, the more they resembled a waitress. "Wouldn't it make more sense to polish those tankards behind you?"
The small person let out a high pitched squeal as the recoiled into the light. Sure enough even the farmhands would tell you, it was a waitress. Short, slightly tanned with long brown hair rolled down is braids. Her bright green eyes looking at him in shock. "What can I do for you?" her voice polite and clear. She tilted to the side only to be greeted by a sight of hungry farmhands and a single chocolate skinned woman. "Are they with you?" she asked.
"I'm afraid so." he chuckled, she only sighed in return,
Relaxing a little, she leaned against the counter like Sigvald, except he was now standing upright with an iron posture. "If you're interested, we have a 'Knight's Special'. It includes ale, pork roast, venison sausage,-"
"You won me over with the venison sausage! Tell me, will it be enough to feed those simpletons behind me? We're short on coin, and are currently retrieving supplies to help us defend a city that is under siege."
She gave him a mortified expression as he spilled his beans. Did he really just let it out like that? "A city under siege? Where?"
"Innercy, I'm afraid. We're still not entirely sure as to who we are fighting." he told her.
"By the Gods... Wait, - if the city is under siege - why are standing here and and wasting time, should you not be on the way back!?"
"Yes, well... unfortunately for us, the wagons that we were suppose to use have been damaged. That is why we are currently idling. So we though it would be good for us if we got some rest and food."
She stared at him with a pitiful gaze. Not sure what to do with them, and feeling obliged, she decided that the kindest and patriotic course of action would be to help in any way she could. "Food and rest you say?" she asked rhetorically "Well you just go and make yourself comfortable. The Golden Thorne Inn will make sure you leave with a full stomach! On the house!" and before Sigvald could process it, the short waitress ran into the kitchen, followed by orders seemingly directed at the cooks, hopefully.
With the notion that they will be getting a meal soon, Sigvald rejoined his group at the table. "Good news! We're getting fed! And it's on the house!" this news was met with cheer an joy.
And about half an hour later, the group was feasting on a whole pig and a keg of ale. Carrots, potatoes, cheese, onions and tomatoes littered their plates. And for the first time, Sigvald removed his helmet in the presence of the group, though they did little to mind it. His coif removed but still tightly pressed against the back of his neck allowed his dark brown hair breathe fresh hair in it's sweaty strands. "Eat well my friends! For who knows when we may get another chance to enjoy our selves!" his average voice no longer muffled by the metal cage he wore everywhere.
"CHEERS BE TO SIGVALD AND MOONFALL!!!" the farmhands saluted with raised tankards.