Elizabeth awoke with a sharp spasm, banging her head across the low wooden beam of her tiny compartment above the tavern. The new ringing in her ears and the throbbing in her head matched the maddening knocking upon the door, threatening to break what little sanity and composure she had regained in her rest.
And she had only just woken up.
She screamed and threw a dusty tome at the door, "IF YOU KNOCK ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I'LL BREAK THE GODDAMN DOOR HANDLE UP YOUR ASS!"
She knew well enough who was knocking and she DID NOT need to see his damnable face in the wee, grey hours of this abysmal pisshole.
He kept knocking.
She screeched and bolted for the door, scrapping at the door handle, pulling it open just an inch, staring out through the crack with a single eye like a deranged witch, locks of wirey hair hanging down.
The Caretaker stared back at her, with that insufferable, permenant, shit-eating grin his face stretched into EVERY BLOODY TIME she saw him, forced to stare at his cobblestone, crooked teeth. not to mention his sunken, beady eyes. His breath always smelled of beer and garlic.
"WHAT THE HELL IS IT NOW CARETAKER!?"
"Now madam, you know my name is-"
"You lost privileges to a proper name WHEN YOU KEPT TAKING MY FUCKING SPOT, THE ONLY FUCKING SPARE SPOT, IN THE CLOISTER!
AND NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I TELL YOU, YOU KEEP DOING IT!
SO, NO, YOU'RE THE FUCKING CARETAKER."
The Caretaker cackled softly, continuing to grin as he hunched and kept rubbing his hands togather over and over like a hungry fly.
God she hated him. She couldn't get rid of him though, he was the only one who actually knew how to run the place.
Or wanted to.
"Sweet god, do you ever stop smiling!? You look like a child molester!"
He continued to cackle.
"
What.do.you.want."
"Well, I have this morning's report, and I'm afraid I have some aweful new-"
"IT'S ALWAYS AWEFUL NEWS. WHEN IS IT EVER NOT HORRIBLE?! JUST CALL IT NEWS AND STOP GETTING MY HOPES UP!"
No one paid the screaming any mind. Lizy was infamous around the Hamlet for her screaming, which she could do for hours on end, to the point where many thought her voice was permenant screeching.
She sighed and slammed the door shut, pulling on a week old crusty black dress and brown tunic over her nightgown and marching out the room, thrusting the door into the Caretaker, who stumbled back laughing, following after her. She could never tell if it was a nervous tick or he was actually laughing at her.
The tavern below was already full and bustling, as it always was; the only bar in in the tiny Hamlet. Adventurers came back from their expeditions at varying times of the day, and workers cycled through day and night shifts, keeping the decrepit place togather and rising.
It was damnable, tiring work, as the Hamlet seemed to be a sickly, depressed being in it's own right, the very buildings infected and cursed, every new plank of wood or piece of brick rotting or crumbling within weeks as if the place simply wanted to die and they were torturing it in their repairs.
Nothing stayed good or healthy in this wretched place.
Only the seemingly endless bounty of wealth reaped from the harrowing regions around kept anyone here. She was called to this place by it's previous Baron to bring her family's legacy back to fruition, and yet it seemed in the end that they were simply vultures, devouring the rotting corpse of an ancient land.
Below, the tavern crowds were already getting rowdy, the gambling halls bustling with fools, the brothels hard at work. She could even see another bloody fight about to break out, a Jester dancing on a table making a comical song directed at an alcoholic, godless Crusader, said target bristling with greater rage with each verse.
Pushing past the tight space, she slammed on the counter and screeched for the barkeep, who approached promptly.
"Whiskey. Five shots."
Her morning breakfest.
The Caretaker began to read from his papers as she took each of them in a row.
"Now, for the report. I am glad to report the successful return of our last raiding party into the Weald. Only one casuality this time!"
She hissed softly, closing her eyes.
"Who."
"Erm, the... the Antiquarian, Madam Jubilee."
Great, the one job they actually had and they fucked it up. Perfect. The fat fortune teller reeked of exotic spices and tobacco, and was useless as all hell at combat, but she had an eye for valuable trinkets and brought back ten times the profit.
And now she was dead. Right when they were broke.
Perfect.
"How. When. Did they at least bring back any gems?!"
"Uh, she... apparently got ravaged by a pack of wild hounds. Shortly after they entered"
"SHE WHAT!? What the hell were the others doing?!"
"Oh, they threw her at the pack. Apparently they all suffer from a deep phobia of beasts."
"ARE YOU SHITTING ME."
"Nope."
"... And what did they bring back."
"Well, I'm assuming you're asking about the gold, so, putting aside the artefacts and heirlooms, of which there weren't many... about ten thousand gold."
"Oh thank the Light. And how much after costs?"
"..."
"What."
"One hundred."
"HOW IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID WE LOSE NINE THOUSAND GOLD COINS!"
"Eheheheh, well, as you see." The Caretaker ruffled through the papers, the Heir, Elizabeth, ordering another five shots, still standing steady.
"Let's see... well after the maintaince cost of three thousand, supposidely the Bounty Hunter... Carlino... Carlufa... Carl, yes, let's go with that.
Bounty Hunter Carl lost the other six thousand in the gambling hall."
"..."
"He also bet and lost your Ancestor's Signet Ring that you gave him... at black jack."
Lizy gave the Caretaker a long, flat stare. After a few minutes of pure silence, she took the nearest stool and smashed it over the head of the nearest drunk Bounty Hunter, knockin him out cold. She didn't care, they pretty much looked the same to her in her state of intoxication.
No one stopped her. The skinny pale woman wielded the strength of a giant boar when she was angry and drunk, and her violent outbursts were a commonality.
Usually at the Caretaker.
"Aha. Now, on our debt accounts..."
She prompty threw a table at the bastard, who simply took it and burst into a maniac fit of giggling on the floor despite his bloody face, broken uncountable times now, and stomped off to the gambling halls.
"ALEXANDER, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!"
She roared over the gambling tables and dealers, everyone silencing briefly and giving her an odd look, before realizing who it was and shrugging it off, returning to their games.
An effeminate, gorgeous man wearing a harlequin outfit, bearing a jovial smile approached... no, DANCED, his way over to her through the crowd, delightfully greeting his patrons.
"Yessss m'lady, how may I be of service? May I interest you in a cup of wine and a game of cards perhaps?" He said, voice dripping with venomous honey, grinning wide.
Everyone was fucking laughing at her in this pisshole, she fucking knew it. Right to her face and behind her back. SHe just knew the bastard was laughing at her too. Bastards all of them.
"NO. SHUT UP, RIGHT NOW. GIVE IT BACK."
"What darling? Give back what? You must be more specific. Such manners from my esteemed patron, I do declare. It wounds me so, you know I am your most humble servant."
"CUT THE BULLSHIT YOU KNOW WHAT 'IT' IS! GIVE ME BACK THE GODDAMN RING!"
It wasn't just any old piece of jewellery. For some reason or another, ever single item once owned by her Ancestor held some strange magical properties that enchanced some attribute of it's owner.
And unlike nearly every other magical trinket they had come across, her Ancestor's artefacts did not take away in equal cost some other aspect, such as giving strength for taking agility or wearing down one's armor. That made each one more valuable than all their equipment and trinkets combined.
"Ooooh, you know I can't do that. Rules are rules, fair and square. Besides, it will do well towards paying back that large sum of debt your Ancestor left behind."
"NOPE! NOT PLAYING THIS! Give it back or I burn this stinking establishment down and RUB IT'S EMBERS INTO YOUR SKINLESS, SCREAMING BODY!"
The gambler boss clapped and laughed hysterically, wiping tears from his eyes, "Oh Lord, you get more creative with your insults everyday, I swear! Oh darling, we both know you're not going to do that. Afterall, I'm the only reason this place even still stands, and continues to."
He was right. Whenever she couldn't afford to maintain food supplies or other functioning aspects, he 'generously' pitched in and kept things running. At an interest of course, whether she asked for his help or not.
"Besides..."
He leaned right up to her face, breathing hot air on her burning red cheeks, her face stretched into such a scowl that her veins bulged, "There is no place in heaven, hell, or earth that could hide you from our debt collectors."
Various Jesters throughout the crowd peered at her simultaniously, theirs eyes shrouded by the internal darkness of their masks. She sighed, taking a step away from his breath, giving him a dirty look.
He smiled and crossed one arm around his chest, leaning his elbow on it and tapping a finger against his lip.
"That said we coouuld make a wager out of it."
"And why the hell would I make a wager with you."
"Because all you have to lose is your dignity, which, let's be honest, you have very little of as is. Pretty good deal, wouldn't you say? In fact, I'll even let you win back all the gold that poor fella lost."
So hot was her face that one could light a candle off it.
"Fine."
