It is an undeniable fact that men and women alike have a tendency to talk when alcohol is introduced into their system. Such a fact was quite apparent in the life of a barkeep, tasked with serving the inebriated and dedicating an ear to their ailments. The young Bettan Castor generally had no issues with the rumors and tales that spread from numbed tongues. They offered a level of entertainment throughout his daily activities that many other servers were not quite as privy to. He was careful to keep the tales as just that, entertainment. Unless a reliable source could be cited, he believed not a word thee drunks would offer up. Though his disbelief sometimes caused problems (some men got defensive and aggressive when the veracity of their hunting stories was doubted), he mostly skated by just fine laughing along with hiss customers and grinning brightly to all.
Sometimes, however, there was a hush that came over the
Pale Poppy's mess area. The men wouldn't meet his looks, preferring the amber glare of their own drinks. Most didn't dare speak against the silence and those who attempted were hushed viciously. Bett recognized these moments well and it caused him to become very much aware of his younger age. Some of these men had been coming here since he couldn't eve see over the bar and still viewed him as that bumbling toddler. These silences were meant to protect him, keep him from worrying. There wasn't a soul in the
Pale Poppy that wanted to see the lad frown.
Bett dropped a glass down on the bar in front of Jarius, an easy target. The stout man had retired from the war with a bum hip and a big grin, telling everyone he would have paid even more for the stores he got from it all. Yet, the pain he experienced daily drove him to Bett's panacea and made him weak for the offer of free spirits. Even now, he carefully eyed the glass in front of him. A few of the surrounding men hissed their disapproval.
"
Now." Bett said, voice louder and firmer than it usually was. His hands rested on either side of the drink, bordering it as it still rested on his side of the counter. He leaned down so he could be eye to steel colored eye with Jarius. "
What's goin on here then? 's got to be somethin serious, yeah?"
Jarius' eyes dropped away from Bett's only to focus on the booze just out of reach. A good sign. He was sweating in his seat, no longer truly resisting, but simply elongating his defiance for his own pride. His tongue wet his lips, his hands gripping slightly at the curved edge of the bar. He would break, Bett knew it. The barkeep pushed the glass just a little bit closer to Jarius' fingers. Anticipation filled the room, everyone silently snarling at the veteran to just
leave it be.
Jarius
would have broken, Bett knew, but his informal interrogation was cut short by a woman's voice. Bett's mother called from the front of the inn, her station during daytime hours. His steady glare was broken as he turned her way and the whole tavern seemed to release a sigh. Bett cast one last annoyed look around to everyone, watching a room of eyes look askance.
With quick steps, he followed his mother's hail and met at her desk. She sat there with her delicate grace, one hand resting atop of the logs, the other holding onto her timepiece. It was the most expensive thing either of them owned and it got quite a bit of use.
"
It's two o'clock, chuck." The woman informed him, her lips formed into a delicate smile.
Bett returned a smile with a vibrant grin, also glowing in her presence. He stepped in and planted a kiss to against her crown while she laughed lightly at the affection. "
Sure thing, mum. Thanks for the reminder."
A few minutes later and Bett was meeting the
Pale Poppy's supplier at the usual corner. They had sent their son this time, barely more than a babe, even compared to Bett. He wobbled under the burden of his cart, looking seven leagues past relieved when he finally was able to come to a stop and met the man who would relieve him of his load. The kid was three heads shorter than Bett and he found himself instinctively bending his knees to face him.
The boy was breathless and bright red, but not simply from the exertion. Instead, he absolutely buzzed with excitement, bouncing on his toes with energy he shouldn't still possess. He had something juicy, it was obvious.
"
What's got a hold of ya, lad?" Bett asked, already reaching to inspect the crates loaded onto the cart. He opened the lid of one, finding a pleasing amount of bottles inside. As he shifted it closer to himself, the containers resonated with that gorgeous melody of clinking glass, and god, it was probably Bett's favorite sound. Still, he noted that the supply was smaller than usual, a box short.
Tren looked as if he had only lived up until that moment to hear that exact question asked of him. He let out a breath so hard it nearly knocked him prone and his hands clutched inflexibly to the handle of his vehicle. He teetered so far forward, Bett was curious if his feet were still even planted on the ground. "
Bett, can you believe what's happened?"
Bett's eyebrows rose and he crossed his arms before himself. Amusement curved his lips. "
What? That ya managed to forget part of my order, again? Naw, 's pretty believable, dunce."
The child's face began to color and he gasped, his eyes quickly flashing over the crates. He let out a defeated groan as he realized the truth. He had once again forgotten the full load back at the distillery, a image of a tarried crate abandoned against the doorstep entered his mind. Still, his shook his head of this small set back and was bouncing on his toes again in moments. "
Sorry, Bett. Wasn't thinking 'bout that sort a thing, somethin crazy happened!"
"
Well, out with it then!" Bett shook his head and continued to smile.
Tren reached into the crate closer to him, dragging something out and into the light. It was a sleek looking magenta bottle, intricate vines crafted in the glass, curling towards the cork. Bett recognized it immediately and his smile dropped away. He stared silently for a moment, before shaking his head quickly and yanking it away from the child. He held it up to the boys eyes accusingly, a scalding storm overtaking him.
"
Tren." Bett said, voice firm. "
This is Luairi wine. Speak up now, where did ya get this?" The lad had a habit of sticking his hands into flashy pockets, generally of the wrong sort. Bett was very familiar with which pockets were the wrong ones.
The boy squirmed, clearly having expected to receive greater praise for his endeavors. He turned his gaze away, a angry pout forming on his face "
The venders outside of town have loads of this kinda thing. Lots of Lutairi stuff floodin' in. Bett, I got it for you, don't be so cross!"
Bett clicked his tongue and tucked the bottle back into the crate, careful to hide it from view. "
You'll get yourself into mighty big trouble with those sticky fingers, Tren. Head home, off with ya now."
Bett watched the boy scamper home with a highly disgruntled air about him. The barkeep was unhappy as well, signature grin lost as he carted the supply of alcohol home. First, the bar was behaving like a damn funeral, now the black market was overflowing with Lutairi goods. Something very unsettling must be going down over the border. Hopefully, whatever it was wouldn't affect the town any worse than it already had.
Caden worked his jaw to the point where it ached as he sat upon a stool in the Luitairi palace's grand kitchen. His sharp amber eyes were focused entirely on the root in his stiff grasp, followed his dull knife as it grazed across the flesh. The thick peel curled as he cut it away, falling over his fingers and into the waste bucket below him. He sliced with quick movements instead of attempting for finesse. He completed each root rapidly, the finished products tossed into a pot at his side. There they waited to be lifted by a cook and set atop the stove.
To a bypassing stranger, he would have been the picture of a dedicated worker. However, every soul in the royal culinary staff viewed on with concern. Their attention was divided between glancing his way and actually completing their required assignments. Caden may have been employed as a hunk of muscle for the crown, but this was where he had started out, right within this very kitchen. There was not a foreign face among the bunch and even if there had been, Caden returned here often enough for a newcomer to know him just as well.
So they could tell that there was something wrong.
Still, no one was willing to interrupt him, even as he surpassed the amount of vegetables they really needed. Because had been
there, he had been on an assignment close by the settlement when it was attacked. He know had the burn on his arm to prove it as well, the ivory bandage stark against his darker skin. Despite their closeness, the staff had absolutely no clue how to ease his distress. They had barely gotten to the point where they could recognize it.
Bellina passed by his little corner and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately, displacing the strands. She was ignored, as was any one else before her that had offered their silent discomfort. Still, as she passed on, he glanced her way and almost wanted to sigh.
They were so nosy. He didn't have time for the emotions they thought he was suffering through. At least that's what he told himself, the thought a harsh growl in his mind.
His eyes roamed over his hands, trying to convince himself he couldn't still feel that little girl's hand clutching at his. He had dragged her from the flame, scorching his bicep in the process, but saving her life. She had held onto him with bother of her hands like he was the only solid thing on this whole damn earth. Her home was destroyed, was nothing but ashes. And so here she was, clinging onto him desperately.
His thoughts consumed him so fully, he didn't realize he'd nicked himself until the blood started pooling up on his hands. A curse fell past his lips and he abandoned the roots to go and wash away the scarlet liquid.
"
What do you think they'll do?" Tabeitha asked him quietly, stepping in beside him. She reached down into the sink and helped the him wash out his cut. Caden grimaced. "
An attack like that… It just never stops, does it? What is Her Highness going to do?"
The swordsman glanced towards her gentle face, saw the way she looked at him so hopefully. She wanted him to say those magic, nonexistent words that would make everything better. The words a child begged their parents for when there seemed to be nothing but despair all around and they needed to hear peace.
Caden didn't specialize in peace. He pulled his hands away. "
Who's to say, Beith. Wager we'll find out soon enough."
That response was met with a very unhappy silence.
MAELLA STONE - The Traveler
She loved the area along the border more than anywhere else in Bellvar. The way it cooled off and nourished its own foliage, the greater frequency of pools and settlements. You could taste moisture in there air and it felt like electricity. People along the water seemed to have their own glow about them, their own mystery. Everything was more vibrant, more exciting, more
alive. For right now, however, she was really loving its water.
A sigh leaked from her lips, originating from deep in her water filled stomach, and she let her head fall back. Her feet stretched deeper into the oasis pool that they so recently discovered. Her hands rested behind her, keeping her propped up and allowing her to slide her fingers through thriving
grass. She reveled in the feel of it as she let her aching soles soak. They had already filled every water container available and set up camp for the coming night, leaving her with absolutely nothing in the world to worry about. And that was exactly how she loved her days.
"
Rajun." She called out to the slanted trees and grassy earth they so rarely experience. "
You must dip your feet in here, it is simply rejuvenating." She swirled her toes in the liquid, causing the water to slosh higher up her ankles. It splashed subtly and she practically cooed at the noise.
She knew the oasis life. The ability to take cleansing bathes whenever one wished, to sit under shade not created by a piece of cloth. To live amongst a proper society, seeing more than three people on any given day. Those were the sort of luxuries one grew to miss while indulging the traveler life, yet those were exactly the things she found herself wandering away from. Deeper and deeper she went into the unknown until she met with discovery, adventure or death.
This was the life she was born to live. Not one formed by water monopolies and politics.
