QUIET
"What the hell does that Guard think we're worth, huh!?" The burly man slammed the parchment onto the counter. "Just look at this! Tax raises, tax raises, that's all that comes out of that damn castle now! Last year I was forking over, what, eighty percent of my income? They force me to pay any more and I won't even be able to afford cattle feed!"
"You and me, both, kiddo," a older woman next to him groaned. He raised his flask to his mouth and took a long sip before continuing. "I honestly shouldn't even be in this tavern right now. Far enough in debt as is."
"Lotta people like you walkin' in here every night," the bartender behind the counter noted, slowly taking the flash out of the man's hands. "They ain't got the money to buy anything substantial or important, so they waste it away on a few drinks. Oh, and that'll probably be your last for tonight, ma'am."
The burly man grunted, turning an eye to the bartender. "And I bet you're reaping all the profits from it, huh?"
"Hey, don't look at me," the bartender said, dismissively waving his hand. "Truth be told, I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to make rent for this place. Gotta buy all the booze, you know."
Unable to find a rebuttal, the man started to grasp for words. "Gah, so what, we sit around and let our lives go to waste? I don't wanna spend my life wondering how the hell I'm gonna get a meal!"
The bar remained silent. One man choked on their drink; the sound of a couple of coins clinking on the counter. But not a word.
The man growled before slamming his fist on the parchment. "Well, I sure as hell ain't taking this lying down! I've got half a mind to walk out in that plaza tomorrow morning, climb that big dumb statue of the General or whoever, and get a fat riot going in the streets! Maybe that'll get the damn Guard to listen--"
He was suddenly silenced by the bartender, who had thrown his hand over the man's mouth and pulled him the counter top and to the side! "Shh! What the hell do you think you're doing, yelling that out loud in public!?" The man struggled to get out of the bartender's grasp, but his grip remained firm. "There's somebody at the doorway right now, even! IF that were a guardsmen, we'd all be done for!"
Everyone turned to look at the figure at the door. A young woman covered in a hooded leather cloak, only revealing a face with firm green eyes dressed with dark brown hair. An ornately crafted wooden bow, strapped to her backside. An air of equal parts assurance and restraint around her, almost like that of a noble -- but there was no way this stranger could have had any blue blood in her veins.
"I won't make any recommendations against acting against the Castle Low," she started, "but please, don't start a violent rebellion over this."
"And what makes you qualified to say that, huh?" the man said, finally pulling himself out from behind the counter. "Or are you just afraid we'll just get slaughtered out there? I know hundreds of guys who fought in the Third War a while back." He starting pointing out individual heads from the bar's tables, calling out name after name. "Yep, every last man in here's a soldier. Even if we've gotta fight against the Castle, we can handle our own, am I right?" He stood up on a bar stool. "We've gotta! That's the only way we're gonna get out of this rut! That's how we're gonna be who we were before, how life was back before!"
This started to finally raise a few fallen spirits in the tavern. A few "hear hears," then a few cheers. They were starting to find some stake in this man's words.
The woman sighed before finally taking a step into the tavern itself, bringing in what felt like a cold wind draft as the cloak fluttered behind her. "Do you think serving in that war has taught you what a revolt entails? You will be drawing the blood of your countrymen, and unlike the foreign invaders of the Third War, your countrymen speak the same language as you." She looked the man directly in the eye. "Please tell me, why do you need to use your swords instead of your words?"
The man snorted, wondering where this woman even came from. "What, you don't think we've tried before?" he said. "Damn castle doesn't listen to word we say! They wanna keep that military running around taking our livelihoods, then so be it! We'll talk to them the only way they know how to talk, with gold ol'-fashioned violence!" He sauntered over to woman and bent down, placing his face just inches away from hers. "If you don't know that much, then what made you think you were qualified to lecture to us about it, huh?"
The archer sighed and pulled back the hood of her cloak, letting others see who she was. The tavern stood quiet, but the older woman at the counter gasped. "Wait, haven't I see your face before, you were, oh, what's the word..."
"I served under the Castle Low Guard during both the Second and Third Wars," the archer stated. This brought up a confused array of voices; how could have someone who looked so young served in both of those wars? The Second War was decades ago!
"I was a good friend of the General during that time," she continued, reaching into her cloak to pull out a small fragment of metal. Despite the dim lighting of the tavern, it shined as if held directly in sunlight. The tavern's occupants had to look away, as if that light itself could slash them apart. But the archer held it firmly. "When he was still a common guardsman in the Second, he often got ahead of himself, never knew where his limits were. But he was never sorry about it when the castle or the people around him were at risk; always looking forward at the stars, I remember him saying once. That's what made so many of us admire him, I remember."
She put the shard of metal back into her pocket. "But the recent events of the last few years have me worried. None of what the Guard has done, I would have associated with him... there's definitely something wrong. Having known him for so long, I wonder if something's changed about him. It's not like him to stay cooped in that castle, doing nothing but signing these bills."
The man crossed his arms. "Even so, what does that have to do with our current situation? We can't exactly wait around, you know. I'm already hungry."
"I want to go to the castle and speak to him myself. That way, I'll know what's actually happening. I want to find the truth first. I have to, as his friend." She turned around, ready to leave the bar. "If a riot suddenly started, there'd be bloodshed we could avoid if we talked it over first. I'm certain he'll open his doors for me, so please, don't start a rebellion tomorrow morning. It would make it harder for me to reach him."
And with that, she disappeared out the door. The man called out with a command to wait, but when he rushed out the door, he couldn't see the woman anywhere; only a thin, almost blue mist around the area. The bartender soon followed, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Well, that was somethin'," the bartender remarked. "Let's get you inside, yeah? Awfully cold out there tonight. And you're gonna go home and sleep in and not try to start a rebellion, yeah?"
The man kept his eyes trained down the street before sniffing. "Maybe," he grumbled, turning around and re-entering the tavern. And so the quiet settled over the establishment once more, as the patrons counted their coins for another round of drinking.
"You and me, both, kiddo," a older woman next to him groaned. He raised his flask to his mouth and took a long sip before continuing. "I honestly shouldn't even be in this tavern right now. Far enough in debt as is."
"Lotta people like you walkin' in here every night," the bartender behind the counter noted, slowly taking the flash out of the man's hands. "They ain't got the money to buy anything substantial or important, so they waste it away on a few drinks. Oh, and that'll probably be your last for tonight, ma'am."
The burly man grunted, turning an eye to the bartender. "And I bet you're reaping all the profits from it, huh?"
"Hey, don't look at me," the bartender said, dismissively waving his hand. "Truth be told, I'm not sure if I'm gonna be able to make rent for this place. Gotta buy all the booze, you know."
Unable to find a rebuttal, the man started to grasp for words. "Gah, so what, we sit around and let our lives go to waste? I don't wanna spend my life wondering how the hell I'm gonna get a meal!"
The bar remained silent. One man choked on their drink; the sound of a couple of coins clinking on the counter. But not a word.
The man growled before slamming his fist on the parchment. "Well, I sure as hell ain't taking this lying down! I've got half a mind to walk out in that plaza tomorrow morning, climb that big dumb statue of the General or whoever, and get a fat riot going in the streets! Maybe that'll get the damn Guard to listen--"
He was suddenly silenced by the bartender, who had thrown his hand over the man's mouth and pulled him the counter top and to the side! "Shh! What the hell do you think you're doing, yelling that out loud in public!?" The man struggled to get out of the bartender's grasp, but his grip remained firm. "There's somebody at the doorway right now, even! IF that were a guardsmen, we'd all be done for!"
Everyone turned to look at the figure at the door. A young woman covered in a hooded leather cloak, only revealing a face with firm green eyes dressed with dark brown hair. An ornately crafted wooden bow, strapped to her backside. An air of equal parts assurance and restraint around her, almost like that of a noble -- but there was no way this stranger could have had any blue blood in her veins.
"I won't make any recommendations against acting against the Castle Low," she started, "but please, don't start a violent rebellion over this."
"And what makes you qualified to say that, huh?" the man said, finally pulling himself out from behind the counter. "Or are you just afraid we'll just get slaughtered out there? I know hundreds of guys who fought in the Third War a while back." He starting pointing out individual heads from the bar's tables, calling out name after name. "Yep, every last man in here's a soldier. Even if we've gotta fight against the Castle, we can handle our own, am I right?" He stood up on a bar stool. "We've gotta! That's the only way we're gonna get out of this rut! That's how we're gonna be who we were before, how life was back before!"
This started to finally raise a few fallen spirits in the tavern. A few "hear hears," then a few cheers. They were starting to find some stake in this man's words.
The woman sighed before finally taking a step into the tavern itself, bringing in what felt like a cold wind draft as the cloak fluttered behind her. "Do you think serving in that war has taught you what a revolt entails? You will be drawing the blood of your countrymen, and unlike the foreign invaders of the Third War, your countrymen speak the same language as you." She looked the man directly in the eye. "Please tell me, why do you need to use your swords instead of your words?"
The man snorted, wondering where this woman even came from. "What, you don't think we've tried before?" he said. "Damn castle doesn't listen to word we say! They wanna keep that military running around taking our livelihoods, then so be it! We'll talk to them the only way they know how to talk, with gold ol'-fashioned violence!" He sauntered over to woman and bent down, placing his face just inches away from hers. "If you don't know that much, then what made you think you were qualified to lecture to us about it, huh?"
The archer sighed and pulled back the hood of her cloak, letting others see who she was. The tavern stood quiet, but the older woman at the counter gasped. "Wait, haven't I see your face before, you were, oh, what's the word..."
"I served under the Castle Low Guard during both the Second and Third Wars," the archer stated. This brought up a confused array of voices; how could have someone who looked so young served in both of those wars? The Second War was decades ago!
"I was a good friend of the General during that time," she continued, reaching into her cloak to pull out a small fragment of metal. Despite the dim lighting of the tavern, it shined as if held directly in sunlight. The tavern's occupants had to look away, as if that light itself could slash them apart. But the archer held it firmly. "When he was still a common guardsman in the Second, he often got ahead of himself, never knew where his limits were. But he was never sorry about it when the castle or the people around him were at risk; always looking forward at the stars, I remember him saying once. That's what made so many of us admire him, I remember."
She put the shard of metal back into her pocket. "But the recent events of the last few years have me worried. None of what the Guard has done, I would have associated with him... there's definitely something wrong. Having known him for so long, I wonder if something's changed about him. It's not like him to stay cooped in that castle, doing nothing but signing these bills."
The man crossed his arms. "Even so, what does that have to do with our current situation? We can't exactly wait around, you know. I'm already hungry."
"I want to go to the castle and speak to him myself. That way, I'll know what's actually happening. I want to find the truth first. I have to, as his friend." She turned around, ready to leave the bar. "If a riot suddenly started, there'd be bloodshed we could avoid if we talked it over first. I'm certain he'll open his doors for me, so please, don't start a rebellion tomorrow morning. It would make it harder for me to reach him."
And with that, she disappeared out the door. The man called out with a command to wait, but when he rushed out the door, he couldn't see the woman anywhere; only a thin, almost blue mist around the area. The bartender soon followed, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Well, that was somethin'," the bartender remarked. "Let's get you inside, yeah? Awfully cold out there tonight. And you're gonna go home and sleep in and not try to start a rebellion, yeah?"
The man kept his eyes trained down the street before sniffing. "Maybe," he grumbled, turning around and re-entering the tavern. And so the quiet settled over the establishment once more, as the patrons counted their coins for another round of drinking.
Return to the fateful castle
December 21st, 2017
Only available on Skype
December 21st, 2017
Only available on Skype