Today was just as boring as any other day, until I went to work. My shift began mid afternoon, and prior to walking through the bright yellow door of my workplace, I’d been queuing and pushing through mobs of people at the market. It was tiresome, tedious and downright exhausting. I generally hated market days. The tavern was always busier too.
Great for business. Not so great for my feet.
I was already peopled-out and daydreaming of my bed by the time I reached work, despite the scratchy bedsheets. Perhaps, with this weeks pay, I could get some new woollen ones. The Equinox market usually has wool products as people were stocking up for winter. There were still a few moons before that market though. Today, the sunlight beat down on tanned traders and their customers, unrelenting in its heat. Several traders had set up open wooden structures with leather roofs to protect them from the sun. None that I visited had done so though and my skin glowed with a red hue.
This didn’t go unnoticed in the tavern and a few regulars made playful jeers as I sauntered past, head held high. It was pretty important to have a thick skin when working here.
This rowdy tavern attracted people from all over the Empire, bringing their stories to the hearth but leaving their troubles at the door. Madam Elyn upheld a strict rule of peace and lacked mercy when dealing with rule breakers. I’d only seen it once, and never wanted to again. Today, she observed the room from behind the bar, cleaning a glass as alert eyes scanned the room. Madam Elyn had eerie eyes. They were the palest of blue, like a thin layer of ice coating a roaring river. When she looked at you, it was like they sliced through any masks you tried to hide behind and observed who you were at your core. I liked to think that, as she had employed me, she liked what she saw when she looks my way. I know many of the punters find her slightly intimidating, but she takes this in her stride, saying it should deter anyone from breaking her only rule.
Great for business. Not so great for my feet.
I was already peopled-out and daydreaming of my bed by the time I reached work, despite the scratchy bedsheets. Perhaps, with this weeks pay, I could get some new woollen ones. The Equinox market usually has wool products as people were stocking up for winter. There were still a few moons before that market though. Today, the sunlight beat down on tanned traders and their customers, unrelenting in its heat. Several traders had set up open wooden structures with leather roofs to protect them from the sun. None that I visited had done so though and my skin glowed with a red hue.
This didn’t go unnoticed in the tavern and a few regulars made playful jeers as I sauntered past, head held high. It was pretty important to have a thick skin when working here.
This rowdy tavern attracted people from all over the Empire, bringing their stories to the hearth but leaving their troubles at the door. Madam Elyn upheld a strict rule of peace and lacked mercy when dealing with rule breakers. I’d only seen it once, and never wanted to again. Today, she observed the room from behind the bar, cleaning a glass as alert eyes scanned the room. Madam Elyn had eerie eyes. They were the palest of blue, like a thin layer of ice coating a roaring river. When she looked at you, it was like they sliced through any masks you tried to hide behind and observed who you were at your core. I liked to think that, as she had employed me, she liked what she saw when she looks my way. I know many of the punters find her slightly intimidating, but she takes this in her stride, saying it should deter anyone from breaking her only rule.
I have to say, I’m inclined to agree. Even now, as I approach the bar, having skirted around the unlit hearth, a group of middle aged dwarves arm wrestle while casting nervous glances to Madam Elyn. Even I’m not sure if where the line between ‘playful aggression’ and ‘violence’ is. Everyone I knew considered the two concepts to be practically synonymous. Many locals avoided this tavern for the sole reason they couldn’t brawl here. This is another thing that Madam relishes, for weekly brawls in the cramped bar could be costly when repairing any damage. Which is almost certain. Enough tables and chairs get damaged when everyone’s in good moods, I couldn’t imagine the chaos that would arise if violence gripped the tavern.
It didn’t take long to get into the swing and vibe of the evening. Most travellers were feeling jovious, having made good profits at the market. The room was alive with conversation, the sharing of stories on the road or delicious new recipes. Some discussed politics, turned many kept quite about such subjects. Nothing starts a fight faster than political debates. Madam Elyn usually sat in on these discussions, acting somewhat as a referee. She would cease the conversation and ask the participants to find new companions for the evening, or leave, if things started to get too heated. However, she also encouraged her patrons to have such talks, for she preached that they expanded peoples minds to different perspectives and ideas. It just seemed to cause arguments in my eyes.
I heard enough gossip while working the tables and collecting empty tankards. People paid no attention to the waitress. Unless they were feeling creepy, of course. Then I wish they didn’t notice me. It was always my word against theirs as the firelight didn’t stretch the the tables. This had been a qualm for many of the waitresses, but the punters who reserved the shadow engulfed tables were often generous with their tips. Win some you lose some, I guess.
However, the crowd tonight kept wandering hands to themselves. It was band night and a diverse range of music had been played. Some punters even got up to sing, although they’d had too much to drink and their performance was slurred and sloppy. They’d been quickly boo’d off the stage and had returned to their seats around the fire, faces sullen as other drinkers patted them on the back and made playful mocking comments.
The mood was pretty infectious. I found I had a skip in my step as I ducked and danced around tables, laughing and chatting with punters as I passed. Several other girls did the same. I figured my nearly sheer black ruffled dress, the standard bar uniform, swished about like theirs did. The silken material reflected the firelight, the swirling and quick movements having an entrancing effect. I chuckled as I ducked under the raised arm of a particularly tall dwarf who was cheering loudly. Beer sloshed from his tankard, but thankfully he was holding it in the hand I wasn’t near. I made a mental note that the man would likely need a new drink shortly.
“Everyone is in a great mood, ma’am!” I beamed, shouting over the latest band. They had heavy emphasis on their drummer, who appeared to lack any rhythm.
“Yes, it certainly seems so, doesn’t it?” Madam Elyn had a tight smile, her cold eyes glancing at me briefly before returning to surveying the room.
Her detached demeanour shouldn’t upset me after four years of working for her, but it definitely still stung. My mood slightly deflated and the skip from my step gone, I returned to waiting tables.
Her detached demeanour shouldn’t upset me after four years of working for her, but it definitely still stung. My mood slightly deflated and the skip from my step gone, I returned to waiting tables.
The band had stopped and a sorrowful female dwarf had taken up the stage for a solo performance. While her voice was lovely, the guttural and harsh sounds of the dwarven language didn’t really suit a romantic ballad.
I was admiring her attire, a kaleidoscope of colour, as I bent to put a few logs in the hearth. The next second, I was falling face first into the flames. Someone had slapped my behind with a hearty laugh. I lost my balance and tripped over my own feet as I stumbled away from the impact. My hands still clutched at logs, which caught flame and the smell of burning hair was almost instantaneous. Before I could even open my mouth to scream, which I most certainly tried to do, I was hoisted from the hearth and planted on my butt with a ‘hmph’.
Chaos erupted. Someone jumped over me, yelling, while one of the other bar girls helped me to my feet. Her blonde hair was knotted loosely on her head in a traditional dwarven manner and I think her name is Clarise. Her eyes were wide, and the blood gone from her already pale face. Around us, the same men who had been laughing and joking together thirty breaths ago were now slinging punches. Faces bounced off of tables and rock-capped boots collided with knees and shins. The cacophony was overwhelming but still felt, and sounded, slightly distant. It felt like I was walking through water, instead of an unruly mob, as Clarise guided me to the bar.
Madam Elyn greeted me with a stiff nod, those eyes flashing dangerously as she watched Clarise lead me to the back room. She waited a few seconds, just enough time for Clarise to set me down on the bed and tell me how she planned to treat me, before ringing the tavern bell.
Its clang cut through the commotion. I could only imagine everyone pausing, mid punch, to turn and glare at the raven haired tavern owner and the bronze bell that hung above the bar, under the sign that clearly stated ‘strictly no violence’.
”Gentlemen, and a handful of ladies... I have welcomed you into my Inn, fed and cleaned you... yet, you break the singular rule.” Her voice rang louder than her bronze bell and it was clear enough that if I’d had my eyes shut, I would’ve said she was stood beside me. I could imagine her pointing to the sign, icy eyes flashing.
”No mercy.”
Its clang cut through the commotion. I could only imagine everyone pausing, mid punch, to turn and glare at the raven haired tavern owner and the bronze bell that hung above the bar, under the sign that clearly stated ‘strictly no violence’.
”Gentlemen, and a handful of ladies... I have welcomed you into my Inn, fed and cleaned you... yet, you break the singular rule.” Her voice rang louder than her bronze bell and it was clear enough that if I’d had my eyes shut, I would’ve said she was stood beside me. I could imagine her pointing to the sign, icy eyes flashing.
All I can remember is hearing the sound of several swords sweeping from their scabbards and the frantic crashing of chairs as people undoubtedly sought to escape. Then, Clarise patted my forehead with a cold, wet cloth and my whole world went black.
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