4- The Bartender

She pushed the heavy wooden door open, and again the little bell in the entrance rang. She was instantly seized by the ambient heat, a smell of wood and smoke filled the air, coming from the fire crackling further into the large living room.

She took off her gloves and hastily unbuttoned her thick coat, almost out of breath. She slid her bag from her numb, knotted shoulders.

"How was your day?"

Lara jumped. When she turned around, she saw at the other end of the room the man she had seen the day before, standing behind his large wooden bar. She sketched a tired smile.

"Not as good as I would have hoped."

The man put down the glass he was wiping with a cloth and nodded.

"Come here."

At first reluctant, rather with the idea of going back to her room as soon as she could to take a shower and get some rest, the adventuress finally approached, curious.

With his hand, the barman invited her to sit down on one of the high chairs, directly at the counter, not far from him.

"When I see your head, I imagine you haven't dinner," he said without looking at her, working on one of the shelves behind him.

"No, I haven't. You have a good guess."

"Stay here."

The man disappeared through a small door in the back of the room. Lara heard the sound of plates and cutlery clattering together in the distance, then nothing for a few minutes. A moment later the man reappeared with a large plate and cutlery in his hands.

He put it all down in front of her. The smell immediately filled her nostrils; it was like a mixture of potatoes and pieces of meat, sprinkled with various aromatic herbs. The whole thing was bathed in a thick sauce, which smelled like mulled wine.

"It looks delicious."

"It is. Fricassée de porc."

Lara looked up at him without understanding.

"Fried porc maybe? Well, something with porc, potatoes and wine, it's a local speciality. Eat it now, it's hot."

The adventuress didn't wait for it. She savoured her meal, in silence, while the man was busy in his bar, vacant with his work.

The young woman lost herself for a moment in her own thoughts, prey to reflection: she couldn't get rid of the failure's frustration she had just experienced, replaying over and over again everything she had gone through, but couldn't find any explanation nor solution.

Thinking about it, she was pretty sure there had been a hidden object in the altar, but it was now clear that she had been double-crossed.

"You look... worried."

The adventuress suddenly came back to reality. The man had come back to her.

"No more than usual."

She mentally crossed fingers so that her lie would go unnoticed. The man nodded his head, but the young woman soon realised that he was just trying to play her game.

"You're not a very talkative woman."

The young woman didn't take the remark badly. She just smiled politely. The man grabbed a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of local red in the other. Lara watched the liquid spill into the glass before the barman stopped his gesture with a precise movement.

"It is true that I am not the kind of woman to agree on banalities. I have my discreet side, I hope you won't take this the wrong way."

"No offence at all. Unfortunately for you, strangers or tourists that come here, it's never discreet... have you discovered something interesting in the castle?"

She mentally pictured her fight against the stone knight.

"How do you know I went to do research?", she asked with a sincere but distrustful smile.

"I don't know, a lot of people come to walk. But you don't look like walkers or tourists."

"I'm very interested in French history at the moment, and more specifically in the Cathars Knights history. I thought it was a great place to come to for that, I'm just curious."

The man stared at her with his small piercing green eyes, his arms crossed against his imposing chest. It was at this precise moment the young woman noticed more precisely his imposing build, which left no doubt as to the profession he had exercised before ending up here, in this hotel.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Lara couldn't tell what was going on in the man's head. She couldn't decide if she could trust him or not. She finished her last bite of fricassée.

"You are right. This castle is very interesting for its history, one of the most beautiful in the region. I'm just surprised because many people are interested in this castle suddenly."

The young woman frowned at this remark. She swallowed her sip of wine, before resuming her interrogation, curious.

"Have other researchers been here?"

"Because you are archaeologist too?"

The adventuress smiled at him with a pale, embarrassed smile.

"That's my basic profession, indeed. However I have to admit that I'm more focused on exploring the world and making new discoveries, I travel quite a lot and very often."

"Oh, madame is a baroudeuse then?"

"We can't hide anything from you," she replied with a mocking smile.

On those words, the man turned his back on her for a short moment, just long enough to put the glass he had just wiped down. The young woman observed the environment in which he was working, scrutinizing the various bottles of alcohol that surrounded them. The wall behind them was covered with various trinkets typical of the region, from stuffed animal heads to agricultural tools from the last century. In the middle of all this heap of objects, hanging from one of the shelves at the back, her gaze got caught by a chain at the end of which hung a small engraved plaque, as well as a golden brooch representing a flame surrounded by a circle.

She recognised a military insignia without hesitation, similar to the one her own father had received almost thirty years ago when he served in the army's special forces. She was unable to recognise it, but it confirmed her doubts.

"Special forces?", she tried.

The man stood up, an eyebrow raised in sign of questioning. Lara directed her gaze back on the shelf behind them. The barman followed the trajectory of her gaze, then, as if nothing had happened, took off her empty plate.

"Légion étrangère," he finally answered.

Thinking, she stared for a moment at the wine vibrating in the glass in front of her. Then her eyes fell on the big, puffy scar on the ex-soldier's hand. Strategically, she thought it might be easier to play cards on the table with him. After all, he had been a legionnaire, the kind of profile that would either take the side of believing her and acknowledging her honesty as a warrior, or shut up like a wall of ice. Double or nothing, then.

"To tell you the truth, I'm looking for a manuscript, or something close to it. My search here has been unsuccessful. I'm just looking for more information that would allow me to locate it, and to continue my investigations."

She took another sip of wine, initially avoiding the barman's gaze that she felt pointed at her.

"It's not impossible that a man may have come here for this manuscript as well," she insisted.

The bartender pouted, shaking his head slightly.

"I've seen some people, yes..."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the counter. His gaze wandered into the void, prey to reflection.

"His name was Werner Von Croy, does that name mean anything to you?", Lara added.

The man remained silent, visibly turning the question over in his head. He suddenly seemed completely closed to discussion but open at the same time, feeling visibly uneased.

"You told me yourself you could definitely spot people who are not from here..."

The man suddenly came out of his reverie, in doubt, but visibly relieved. Once again, Lara was definitely convinced he was not totally sincere with her, whereas she felt he was also ready to collaborate.

"With glasses and a borsalino hat, walking with a wooden cane with a golden handle."

The man shook his head in approval.

"If you mean the little old man with a German accent, he was there a few months ago, yes indeed. Kind of stubborn this man. He was coming back from Germany apparently."

Lara raised both eyebrows.

"From Germany? Would he have given you more information?"

"Apparently. He spoke of a castle, which can be with a connection with the castle here. But he was confused, he was a bit nervous this man, non?"

"Do you know if it was related to the Prussian imperial family?", she asked him offhand.

"You were friends and he didn't tell you?", retorted the barman, staring at her.

Lara put her glass down a little hurriedly, as a sudden surge of stress came over her. She remained silent.

No indeed, Werner definitely used to be hiding things from me

"This man was my mentor... and a friend indeed. But we had a relationship that was kind of... complicated."

"I see...", concluded the man, leaving the innuendo at the end of his sentence.

"Don't get any ideas, he was twice my age."

"You do what you want, ma petite dame," he said.

Lara was stung and offended by this remark, which she found silly, but she didn't flinch. She had just gained valuable information and confirmed that Werner was on the track of something. This was coherent with the notes in the journal, she felt somehow satisfied. Suddenly she thought back to the intrusion of the night in her room.

"I wondered if you had noticed anything unusual last evening, or during the night?"

The man frowned thoughtfully. However, he seemed genuinely disturbed by the question.

"No, nothing in particular. Has something happened to you?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary."

The man just stared at her without a word. Silence fell again in the large room, almost plunged into darkness. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard in a corner of the room. It was warm, but this ambient heat did her good in a way, she felt almost lightened, comforted by today's discoveries and the information she had just obtained.

The barman had got back to his business. Tired, she decided to go back to her room. She stood up and pushed her chair back, which grated against the red tile floor. She grabbed the bag she had put on the chair next to her and her coat.

"Thank you again for the meal," she said over her shoulder.

Without another word, she turned around and took the direction of the staircase. Just as she was about to go up, the barman's voice echoed from behind the counter.

"I'm not a specialist of the history and all of this, but I remember that one of the most important castle for the Prussians in Europe was Kriegler Castle."

Lara stopped dead in her tracks, her hand barely resting on the staircase's banister.

How could I not have thought of that earlier?

"Thank you very much," she simply replied, shocked by her own stupidity.

Without a word, she looked away and walked up the stairs. She had barely climbed a few steps when the barman addressed her again.

"He told me you are a smart woman, but you won't find anything more here."

Lara suddenly turned her gaze in his direction. They stared at each other again.

"Be careful, Miss Croft."

His last sentence sounded more like a piece of advice than a warning. The adventuress just stared at him without understanding. Then, she gave him a last smile before disappearing upstairs.

The little door slammed gently behind her, she dropped her bag in a corner, staring into the void. She forced herself to take a quick shower, which did not relax her any more than that. For the first time in a long time, she no longer felt like she was standing still, she found that feeling of both stress and excitement that she felt whenever she was about to make major advances in her research, as she had done years before, during her young years as an adventuress.

She came out of the bathroom and, wrapped up in her towel, went to throw a shot out the window. Like the night before, the town centre seemed rather quiet, all the outside lights were now off. She took one last look at the point of the castle overlooking them, before taking one of her weapons out of her bag and slipping it under her pillow.

Deep down inside, she was still disturbed by this improbable discussion she had just had over a pork fricassee. Thinking about it, she didn't know exactly how to interpret this benevolent attitude towards her, she who had learned to be wary of everyone. She was surprised, however, that the man remembered Werner had mentioned her while he was here.

Maybe it was a stroke of fate, or just her instinct speaking, but it seemed more than likely to her now that she would find interesting things in Germany. She didn't have any other leads to follow at the moment anyway.

Just hope that I won't have to go the same way in all the European castles

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN EUROPE, IN THE MEANTIME

She took a first step, hesitantly. Her frail, pale figure stood out against the half-light of the room. With her head slightly lowered forward, as if in a sign of submission, she took a clumsy step towards her master.

She could not see her master's face from where she was standing, hidden by her broad shoulders and thick coat. He seemed to be caught up in a serious conversation with the acolyte standing beside him. Some of the guards, with their hands folded behind their backs and their eyes hidden under their military caps, glanced at her from the corner of their eyes.

She stood still in the dark, hoping to be as discreet as possible, stepping a little back as if she was trying to hide behind the wall. The two men who had been talking until then suddenly fell silent.

"Come here."

She jumped. The master's deep, icy voice echoed through the room. He hadn't bothered to turn around. A heavy silence settled in. She walked only a few steps forward, preferring to stay in the shadows. She hesitated between taking the thing in full view and showing herself, or crashing down completely and waiting for it to happen. Unlucky for her, she was more of the blood type, not to be taken in by it, so her instincts decided for her.

"I didn't find the scrolls, master."

Her own voice sounded flat, distant. At that very moment she felt disconnected from her own body. She swallowed her saliva with difficulty, blocking her breathing. She tried to contain the stress that was gradually taking hold of her, her beating heart almost resonating painfully against her ribs.

"Can you leave us, Rouzic?"

The man nodded slightly in agreement, before turning to the door. Tall and thin, almost skeletal, he hastened in a hurry and passed by the young woman without even looking at her.

The master slowly turned himself towards her and stared at her impassively. His usual blue eyes were now completely black, devoid of life. He watched her for a long time without ever blinking.

"Maybe it's seriously time to get down to business too, Vasiley. I'm not going to wait for the Scrolls to come to me. Our survival depends on it, you incompetent female."

"In my defence, the manuscripts were already gone when I arrived. Somebody obviously got them before me."

Caught in a sudden outburst of rage, the master suddenly stepped forward to grab the frail young woman by the throat. His grip was firm, the young woman's neck fragile, he had no trouble controlling her. The sentinel grabbed the hand that was tightening on her neck, moaning in protest.

"And can you tell me what you are going to do about it?"

"I think I know where they're going now," she managed to articulate between her clenched teeth. "I think I know where the manuscripts are, master..."

"Ah. You think you know?"

"Master Karel, I-"

"Shut up, you idiot!"

The nephilim's face twisted into a terrible grimace. Concentrated, he stared the young woman straight into the eyes. At first, she felt only a kind of warmth slowly rising inside her, her pulse quickened very quickly. And suddenly, it felt as if her head had been pierced by a needle, right in the middle of the forehead. In shock, the young soldier gasped for air. The pain gradually settled in her head, as if pierced by hundreds of sharp blades sinking deeper and deeper and slowly into her skull, like water suddenly cristalising on the surface. She even believed that the bones of her own skull were about to split open.

As she was about to faint, the nephilim suddenly released the pressure on her throat, still bubbling with rage though.

"Sometimes I really wonder what use you are to me."

Karel suddenly turned away with a heavy, hurried step his long coat floating behind him. As he left the room, the iron vice on her head immediately loosened, and the young woman fell abruptly to the floor, emptied of all energy.

Panting, she remained lying on the floor, as if mutilated. Her head was buzzing, her blood was burning her. Cramping and vomiting, she curled up on herself on the icy pavement, unable to hold back her tears of pain any longer.


Just a quick note to say that I made some mistakes on purpose during the dialogues with the bartender, as he's supposed to speak English with a very strong accent and not very correctly, as lots of French people would haha :)

And thank you to all those who are curious enough to get interested in this story :)