Dinner was a simple watered down stew. Plain but after not eating anything for a full day, it didn’t matter how it tasted. All that mattered is that it was food and a weight in his stomach. The woman, Miss Chabaril, sat across him at the dinner table with a weathered smile.

  “You must have been starving.” She said, “I can’t imagine this thin soup is that irresistible.”

  “Food is food, ma’am.” Shaynen said. “I’m grateful to have it either way.”

  “Yeah, wasting food is a sin in these parts. Glad you understand that.” Miss Chabaril agreed, eating from her own bowl. “Most strangers to these parts aren’t.”

  “Is there a drought?” Shaynen asked.

  “Something like that.” Miss Chabaril nodded sadly. “A sort of blight upon the lands.”

  “That’s unfortunate, I hope it clears up.” Shaynen said. “Maybe the gods are rearranging things.”

  “They better hurry up and figure it out before we all starve.” Miss Chabaril said. Then she tipped her bowl up and slurped the rest of the broth. Shaynen followed suit and they finished their dinner.

  “I’ll wash up,” Shaynen offered. Getting up to clear the table.

  “”That’s mighty kind of you.” Miss Chabaril said, “You’ve already done plenty of my chores. You don’t have to continue being so helpful.”

  “I don’t mind the chores.” Shaynen said with half a shrug. “They aren’t really that bad.”

  “You’ll go far with that mentality.” Miss Chabaril sighed. She got to her feet slowly. “I’ll get a place for you ready. Hope you don’t mind the attic.”

  “Not at all.” Shaynen smiled, then paused as he heard the sound of rain starting to fall.

  “Oh good, now I’ll get to see if that patch you put on is worth the meal.” Miss Chabaril smiled at the roof. Shaynen looked up, curious to see his handiwork in action.

  “I’ll try again tomorrow if it does still leak.” Shaynen said. “I said I would, and I will.”

  “I appreciate that,” the elderly woman said. “Don’t take all night about the washing.” Miss Chabaril vanished out the kitchen door and left Shaynen in the kitchen by himself. Shaynen washed, then dried, and finally put away the dishes. All while watching the roof and walls distrustfully. Looking for any sign of a leak. Wanting to be sure that there wasn’t a leak and the woman wasn’t mentioning a leak out of politeness.

  With his curiosity satisfied, Shaynen dried his hand and left the kitchen. Miss Chabaril was coming down the stairs suspiciously.

  “You took a while on those dishes.” She said.

  “I dried them and put them away.” Shaynen said honestly. “Plus I wanted to look around the ceiling to be sure it wasn’t leaking.”

  “Was it?” She asked.

  “Not that I could see, but I will still fix it if I’m wrong.” He replied. “Don’t try to spare my feelings or stand on ceremony if I didn’t do it right.”

  “Believe me, child.” Miss Chabaril’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t.” Shaynen gave another wide smile. Miss Chabaril led Shaynen up the stairs.

  “Can you tell me anything about Maplevale?” Shaynen asked as they walked down the hall.

  “It’s cursed. Same as everything else.” She said. “The mayor’s got a haunted house and everyone’s uneasy.”

  “A haunted house?” Shaynen asked, “What makes it haunted?”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “That I don’t know, you’ll have to ask when you get there.” Miss Chabaril said. She opened the door to another staircase. “The attic’s up there. Hope it’s warm enough.”

  “I appreciate it,” Shaynen said. He went up into the attic. It was solid and empty. With a large bed made of straw and old quilts that the woman of the house put aside for Shaynen to use.

  Shaynen sat on the makeshift bed, it was much more than he was expecting. He got comfortable in his meditative position and let his eyes close.

  When he opened them again, Shaynen could hear the morning birds looking for their breakfasts. He also became aware of roosters and the goat. He stood and began his morning routine. Stretching first, then going into a yoga routine taught in the monastery. Another stretch and he was ready for the day. Shaynen had a spring in his step as he went to the attic door and bounced down the stairs to the second floor.

  Miss Chabaril seemed to be still sleeping, so Shaynen went to the kitchen and inspected for any leaks. With that inspection successful, he went out and took care of the animals. Feeding and collecting from them and bringing it into the kitchen. When he returned with a basket of eggs Miss Chabaril was awake and also inspecting the kitchen.

  “Seems your patch held out.” She said, then she saw the produce Shaynen had collected. “You took care of the animals?”

  “Fed, watered, and collected.” Shaynen said, holding up the basket. Miss Chabaril was struck for words. He put it on the table. “I just wanted to thank you again for opening your house to me. But now I’m on my way.”

  “Oh,” Miss Chabaril said. She swallowed. “What was your name again?”

  “Shaynen.” Shaynen took a last look at the roof. “Maplevale’s another day away right?”

  “If you aren’t set on leaving, I’d be more than willing to keep you round.” Miss Chabaril said sheepishly. “I could use the help.” Shaynen was taken aback.

  “Really? I appreciate that so much, but I can't, I'm afraid.” Shaynen said. “I’m on a pilgrimage.”

  “Ah, you are the religious type.” Miss Chabaril said bitterly.

  “Yes, but I’m not here now nor ever to preach.” Shaynen smiled. The elderly woman smiled despite herself and then sighed.

  “Well, I wish you well then.” Miss Chabaril said. “You’ve done more than I can repay you for.”

  “Don’t mention it and don’t worry about it.” Shaynen said. “I was happy to help.” Shaynen bid the older woman goodbye and was back on the road again. No longer hungry and exhausted. The sun traveled across the sky. As the sun began to set, Shaynen saw the first signs of the forested town. Shadow drew long and he walked into the town. The people of the city didn’t even look at him as he passed.

  “Excuse me,” Shaynen said. Addressing a woman on her front step. “I was-”

  “Everyone showing up about the haunted manor is meeting in the town hall.” She said without looking up.

  “Oh, thank you.” Shaynen said with a wave but she still didn’t acknowledge him. He walked along and found the sign pointing to a white washed house that had Town Hall in big letters across the top. Shaynen went into the town hall, at the very end was a man at a desk. Scribbling on a piece of parchment in a scratchy way which was the only sound of the room.

  “Do you have business here?” Asked the man at the table.

  “I think so. I was told there was a haunted manor?” Shaynen said, approaching the desk. The man lowered his thin speckles to look at Shaynen.

  “Just you? By yourself?” He asked. Shaynen looked back and forth before giving a small nod. “Very well then. You have a name?”

  “Shaynen.”

  “Hm.” The man took out a separate piece of paper. “Any relatives or next of kin that should be notified of your disappearance?”

  “No,” Shaynen said. “Routine questions?”

  “Obviously.” The man said. “Are you familiar with the history of the manor?”

  “No,” Shaynen said. The door creaked and in walked a red dragonborn. Inspecting a journal as he entered.

  “Hold the door!” A woman yelled, the dragonborn looked up and opened the door again. A tiefling woman ran in. “Thanks, man.”

  “More for the manor mystery?” Asked the man at the desk.

  “Yes,” The dragonborn said and put away his journal. Letting the door close.

  “Right!” The tiefling woman grinned. They’d walked part of the way down the aisle before the door opened again. A tabaxi with a snow leopard pattern entered. A hood covered her face but not her rounded ears or long tail. She held the door and another person entered; a tortle.

  “All for the manor?” The man asked, looking at the people approaching the desk with interest.

  “If the problem still persists.” The tortle said.

  “Okay, let’s get you all recorded then for posterity.” The man said. “Begin when you like.”

  “I am Jiit.” The dragonborn said. “I’m an artificer,”

  “Mayhem.” The tiefling said. “I’m all muscle.”

  “I am called Kilek.” The tortle said. “Trained medic as well as capable hand to hand fighter.”

  “Thunder.” The tabaxi said.

  “I’m Shaynen, uh. I’m a monk.” Shaynen waved.

  “Very well. This is a much more promising party. Now.” The man said. “Please write down names and addresses of next of kin while I explain the trouble with the manor.”

  Shaynen; A Table Top Tale