Kibo Burūkurēn was only forty years old. His once silky black hair was now almost fully gray, matching his long strait beard and mustache. He wore his hair tied back in a tight bun befitting the Kokorese tradition. Kibo folded back the long silk sleeves of his day robe, holding it back with is left hand while he updated the guest registry with his right. The Kokorese style inn was usually booked to capacity this time of year. Several of his currents guest complained that travel had become increasingly difficult. The flooded grasslands had displaced many of the indigenous tribal creatures in the area along with more nefarious denizens.
Kibo looked out from the great room to the manicured courtyard garden. Daisuke, a massive ex wrestler turned security guard stood motionless, his arms crossed at the wrist to accommodate his ample girth. Daisuke had been ordered to wear his jacket while he was on duty, but he stood bare chested covered only in swarms of tattoos from his wrists to his neck. Kibo thought to rebuke the overweight wrestler for his appearance, but the oppressive heat was unseasonal and would require the wrestler to take more trips to the kitchen, reducing his effectiveness in the yard.
“Mr. Burūkurēn, where can I find towels for the bath?”
Kibo turned to see a middle-aged man and his companion. “Mr. Gladring! You will find they are stacked outside the doors there and to the left.” He gestured toward a heavy wooden sliding door near the back of the room.
“Ah, you are very kind, thank you.” Said the man. He whispered instructions to his female companion and the two of them made their way toward the door.
Kibo’s head snapped back towards the entrance in time to see a group of travelers enter the main hall. A handful of men -- well, four men and a dwarf-- were entering the inn. The men were covered in signs of the road. Dust and blood marked them as capable men and their weapons and dire wolf said they were not his typical customer. Kibo watched as they entered the great hall in their rough boots. The tatami mats that carpeted the hall stretched and tore under their heavy footfalls. Kibo was inclined to rebuke them for their carelessness until he saw the weariness in their eyes. These men had endured great peril to arrive at his door and he would not be the one to bar them from their deserved comfort.
“How may I be of service, gentlemen.” He said, trying his best to maintain a glossy veneer for his would-be customers.
“Do ya have ruums to let for d’ night?” Said a man dressed in a black armored coat. His coastal accent hung heavy on his lips.
“Yes, how many rooms do you require?”
“Five, and do ya have ruum for the hound in the barn?” The man gestured toward the clay roofed stable and a number of prized steeds within.
“Is he, um, tame?” Kibo asked, with some trepidation bending his words with doubt.
A straw-haired man standing nearest the beast said. “He’ll behave if I order it.”
“Then yes, there is room in the stable.” Kibo replied.
Taking a moment to appraise his newest customers, Kibo recognized an opportunity to ingratiate himself and the Ryokan’s reputation.
“Why don’t we skip protocol and have the gentlemen proceed directly to the bathing area. We can deal with the business of managing your accommodations once you have washed.” Kibo kept his face placid and motioned toward the rear of the great room.
“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Said the burly Dwarf. He started stripping off clothing before he had made it half way across the room.
Kibo worked tirelessly to see the group out into the pool area. Educating them as to proper protocol all the while. As the men stripped down, evidence of their recent trials and many previous ones was laid bare. These men were hardened veterans, though most of them looked like they were little more than boys. The eldest among them was nearing forty, if not across that threshold. As they blended with other guests in the area, Kibo resolved that whatever troubles they had found on the road, that these men were here to recuperate and recover and that they did not intend any harm to his other guests.
Retreating inside, Kibo made his way out into the courtyard. Walking on the cobbled path he stopped in from of the wrestler.
“Daisuke, I thought we discussed protocol for the courtyard?” The Kokorese language was short and to the point and the only means for the two men to converse. Though Kibo had gained command of the common tongue, Daisuke refused to learn the barbaric tongue.
The large man looked down at him, still holding his attention stance. “Masuko is laundering it.” He said, not making eye contact.
“When it is clean I would like for you to resume wearing it when you are on duty.” Kibo made a point to use the formal version of the language to emphasize his superior position.
Daisuke gave him a quick glance and bowed in agreement.
“We will have a full house tonight.” Kibo said matter-of-factly. “Make sure our guests are comfortable and undisturbed.”
The two men parted. A gentle breeze tossed the tops of the trees at the perimeter of the yard. The wrestler let a smile creep in at the edge of his lips as the shade of the trees blocked the direct rays of the sun.