6: “Battle is a mirror. What you see of yourself in its pristine surface is often more frightening than the bloody bits.”
— Wardahl Sevenhalls
MADI
I rocked that bath until I was half prune. Tejón managed to put away most of the meat that had been delivered and was making the curtain shudder with his snoring.
It was tempting to crash then and there, but the noise from the common room piqued my attention. Raucous laughter and the thumping of feet and fists finally made me pull on my clothes, which had been cleaned, and head out.
Though I’d eaten what seemed like half a pound of cheese and a plate of fruit, I decided I’d order a steak as well. Why not eat my fill of something good before I headed back out into the world of biscuits and jerky?
Tables were spread around the room, shabby things that were little more than a slab of wood placed on top of empty wine barrels. The room was filled, and a bard strummed a crude and predictable song, but the joy the lyrics produced was infectious.
I found myself tapping my foot and laughing.
My food came and I ordered an ale. Though the game mechanics in EO removed the effects of alcohol for anyone under eighteen, there were no restrictions on drinking.
By the sound of it, most of the rest of the patrons were of legal age, and their banter rose from merry to rowdy. I was finishing my meal and had just tossed back the rest of the dark ale in my mug when I overhead an interesting conversation.
A man hollered over the noise of the room, most likely thinking himself discreet, “That’s him. I’d know ‘im if I saw the man in a crowd.”
One of his table mates responded, “Bull. No way. He’s just another pointy-eared bastard. They’re everywhere these days.”
“No, James. You are dead wrong. That’s him. In fact, why don’t we step on over and say hello.”
The second man continued to deny his friend. “There’s no way Teegan Shadespar is in some podunk town like Bridgerun. He’s the champion of the capital’s arena.”
I looked over and saw a burly man with a tangled beard stand up at a nearby table and approach the bar. “And the champion of Bridgerun. You know what? Just sit there on your drunk butt and I’ll prove it.” He walked over to a man who sat at the bar a few stools away from me. Without invitation, he clapped the man on the shoulder. “Oy! Can you please tell my friends that you are the one and only Teegan Shadespar?”
I watched as the elf turned and gave a simple nod, not even meeting the man’s gaze.
“See that?” the man bellowed to his mates. “It’s him. Hell. We’re practically friends now.” He turned back to Teegan and tugged on his arm. “Come on, man. Come and drink with us! I want to buy the champion a beer!”
The elf looked up at the man and said in a quiet but clear voice, “I’m sorry. Thank you, but I’m having a quiet night.”
“See then, Berron,” James said. “He doesn’t like you. Must have some sense in his head.” The players at the table fell into a fit of laughter
Berron’s face turned red and anger stole over his features. “What’s your problem? I just wanted to buy you a beer, okay? Come over and meet my friends.”
Teegan reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. “Here. Why don’t you all have a few drinks on me? I don’t want any trouble, okay?”
The man stared at the coin as another of his mates teased, “Now’s your chance, Berron. We all told you that you had enough of a figure to walk the streets. I think he’s overpaying, though.”
The sound of twenty people laughing at once smashed into Berron’s fragile ego.
He snatched the coin from Teegan’s hand and threw it at the far wall. It crashed through a window, and the tinkle of glass made the room go quiet. “You know what? I think what they say about you is shite. I think I could kick your skinny rear, Shadespar.”
Teegan spun around on his stool and faced the fuming player. He held up his hands in one final attempt. “I said I’m sorry. I don’t want trouble. I’m just gonna pay and leave.”
Rodrick came up, noticing the tension, and warned, “No fighting in the Rooster’s Head. Take it outside or I’ll call the guards.” He kept his eye on the men and polished a glass until it squeaked in protest.
Berron took a couple steps back and raised his hands. “No trouble here. We’re just having fun.”
The elf paid his tab and left the room, threads of conversation picking up almost immediately. I was about to follow suit when I saw the player whispering to his companions.
One of them, a woman with two swords strapped to her back, said a bit louder than she’d meant to, “He probably has great gear, too. I say we do it. There’s six of us.” She paused, pulling the groups of eyes around the table tightly into her grasp. It would seem that the foolish Berron wasn’t the leader.
After each of the players tossed down a few coins, they left as inconspicuously as a bunch of drunkards could.
This was where I would walk away and mind my own business. Who cared if some fancy arena fighter got gutted in an alley and robbed? I certainly didn’t.
Still, I found myself following them out.
I waited until they cleared the door and wound my way through the crowd.
I walked behind them, grateful that I’d strapped my axe on my hip, but wishing I’d brought the other. It would have to be enough.
Teegan was a bobbing head of silver hair a hundred strides away. Mist was beginning to shroud
