144. When I was a lad, Sir Provly was my idol.
A gangly man who towered above his peers, Provly was not a gifted or an elegant warrior. Once, in a showdown with a ruthless barbarian, he swung his hammer and smashed himself in the face!
But he was an inspiration to his fellow warriors. Seeing the anxiety in the faces of his brothers and sisters before the Battle of Maginon, he dressed himself as Saint Nick, stood before the regiment and regaled them with hearty jokes and one-liners. They roared with laughter as they ran into battle. His wild antics, having raised their spirits, helped them defeat their enemies.
He was an inspiration to me. I used to act out his most famous moments. I’d don the rabbit outfit my mother sewed for my birthday, clamber upon the kitchen table and say, “A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but meant your mother!” I’d picture everyone laughing along, and I would grab my stick-sword and lead the troops to war.
Sales in the shop have been slow lately. Maybe I could channel a bit of old Provly to motivate the customers to spend more mana!
145. It worked!
This morning, the heroes entered the tavern before their crusade. I yelled, “Look behind you, a three-headed dog!” They jerked around. When they turned back, a smile cracked their lips. Before long, they doubled over in laughter!
While they were laughing, I convinced them to sell their weapons. I stowed their weapons away in my safe. I can get a higher price for those outside the shop.
But the day wasn’t a total success. A man strolled into the shop just before closing time. His hair fell in perfect waves past his shallow cheeks and sharp jaw. I could see it in his emerald eyes: A man with a taste for opulence. An easy catch.
But when I told him a joke, his lips curled. For a moment, his eyes flashed blue. Piercing sky blue. The same blue that haunts my dreams.
With a small pop, his eyes turned green again. He gave me one last look and stormed out the door.
Could it be? Has he finally come back for revenge?
Did the Taverkeep’s imagination get the best of him? Where was he planning on selling his new loot? Did he crack another joke? These are all questions I wanted to know. As I searched Hitmon’s computer for answers I found pages of the diary missing. I frantically tried to reach him in his mountain retreat only to find out that he took them. Those pages were much too sensitive to leave behind. He couldn’t risk someone...or something, getting their hands on it. His isolated location has prevented him from mailing it to me so I guess I’ll have to wait with you guys to see what the missing pages have in store for us.
He looked different this time. Younger. Rounder. But I could feel it in my gut -- it was him.
He came into the shop asking for a job. He could have me arrested, but here he is, wide-eyed and jovial, wanting to work alongside me. What game is this man playing?
I don’t like it. I need to leave. Now.
Before I go, I need to grab a few things from the dungeon. I need to disappear without a trail.