HiveComb

The sign is easy to read, with pictures. No fee via coin. Just leave a bit of honey, or some wool fluff, or split some wood, etc, and the place welcomed you.
Refuse even a small kindness for thanks? You will pay another way. And it's humiliation. You'll live, but the mortification is horrible. -- Anon Guest

It looked like any other roadhaus. Neat, clean, and orderly. The little farm attached to it was enough to support many visitors. The beds were soft, the hearth kept lit. There were beverages waiting in bottles or kegs, replete with labels that included pictograms. On the interior walls was a pictographic frieze accompanying the written word.

Take what you need, and repay with kind, not cash. Violators will receive retribution.

The odd thing about this place was that nobody visible was running it. Nevertheless, there was no ash in the hearths, any food was fresh and flavourful. The bedding was aired and clean, the mattresses fragrant and well-maintained. Any horse left in the stable was cleaned, brushed, and fed by invisible hands overnight.

Many who stayed there recognised Faerie magic when they saw it, and contributed what they could. Some in dire straits provided some form of help to the running of the inn.

Tentarou, who believed that he was the most important man in the world, scoffed at the frieze, and the words. He excused himself the obligation because he was temporarily destitute, and had next to nothing. Thus, he took advantage of everything there. He made a mess of the bathing chamber, gorged himself on food and beverages, then left his bed a rumpled mess.

He left only a single silver coin as 'payment' and went along his way.

Never knowing nor caring that the roadhaus was run by Brauniin.

The Faekindred have ways of enacting revenge for slights real or imagined. Beware their wrath.

Tentarou was some miles upon his way when his canteen sprung a leak, and the girth strap on his horse fell loose. The horse spooked and threw him off into a mud puddle. That was bordered with stinging nettles. By the time he managed to scramble upright, the horse and everything else on it was out of sight.

He was in the middle of nowhere with a leaky canteen, a saddle, and no weaponry. It would take him the rest of the day to maybe make it back to the roadhaus before night fell, and it was far too far to the next roadhaus to even try making it there on foot.

It was that, or try surviving the woods on his own with nothing to his merit. So, muddy thirsty, and itchy, Tentarou began to trudge along the road on the way back to the roadhaus he had just left.

It looked like it had been abandoned for centuries. Only one room had a roof, and the bed in there smelled like a latrine. There was no food, and all the water he could find was at the bottom of the well.

The winch was broken, so he had to haul up the bucket by hand. He had to lay the fire, clean out the cobwebs, and start it all by himself. He had nothing to cook, but he could boil some water. Enough to clean his clothes and, perhaps, himself.

It would be a long, cold, and foul night. Tentarou had the choice of sleeping on latrine matress, rotten thatch, or the floor. He chose the floor, which he had to sweep. Tentarou tried the broom he found in a corner, but its bristles crumbled with his attempt. He was obligated to attempt making a broom with sticks and grasses he foraged from around the walls.

Some of those were stinging nettles, too. He didn't see them until it was too late.

Itching, hungry, and close to despair, Tentarou huddled in his underwear, bundled in his cloak, by the hearth. Trying to fall asleep.

He woke to raucous laughter. A host of visitors to the roadhaus, pointing at him and howling with humour. "Someone stiffed the Faeries," laughed a Bard, and commenced to sing a song about the things that could happen to anyone who failed to pay the named debt a Faekindred asked.

It would have been humorous to Tentarou, if he were not suffering those exact consequences. Face incinerating with mortification, he slunk into the back to look for his clothes.

He found servant's clothing and a list of tasks to accomplish.

Tentarou's penance had just begun.

[Photo by Paul Arky on Unsplash]

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