Friedroth raised his hand, and his lackeys froze. “Whilst he’s not paid everything he owes our organization and I’m disappointed that he hasn’t,” Friedroth stepped closer to Geruke and his shadow devoured him. “We won’t take him to the Infernal Fortress yet. He’s halfway to paying off his debts. If he can replicate the results he produced tonight, then I have some hope for him.”
The Templaga sheathed their swords whilst Friedroth grinned down at Geruke. “Despite my hope, we don’t want him to get cocky. Considering the past year, he has a habit of failing to recognize his place in society.”
The pain that burst from the steel points of their sabatons, their couters, and the pommels of their swords and Friedroth’s halberd, felt like the slams of hammers, spiritually flattening his being until they squeezed and battered every ounce of joy out of him.
Skin tore, blood spilled, and sharp pain streamed, rushed and pulsed across every fiber of his body. Geruke grunted, groaned, and yelled, but nobody cared. Townspeople just strolled past him and to the taverns, as if ignorant of his existence.
If the guards he killed earlier in the night walked past, they’d be the same. He was glad he killed them. None of them cared about him. If he switched places with them, they would’ve tore his head off his neck and pissed on his corpse. Everyone is a puppet and the wicked world is everyone’s master.
Friedroth and his lackeys strolled away from his writhing body and picked up his sack of rubounds, swinging it over a shoulder. “I’ll give you a week this time,” they strolled away.
Geruke staggered to his feet. His wobbling body fell back to and slammed on the rocky ground many times until he finally made it to his feet. He groaned and limped to his smithy.
He entered and Jarlunn leaned back on a chair, his feet resting on a desk next to the furnace. He smoked a pipe. When the wretched old man glanced at Geruke’s bloody body, he grinned. The old coot grinned and giggled. Geruke thought of grabbing the man's pudgy neck and pressing his disgusting face against the smouldering charcoals till he burned, bled and died.
He didn’t. Maladore played with and smashed together wooden toys of a draxorus and a knight as he walked past the forge, growling for the draxorus and grunting for the knight. The boy was innocent and good to him. But so was Lyrassa and his decision to not take what was hers led to the pain he felt. Did he make a mistake at the lake? He shook his head. He did the right thing. How could he kill his fr-
Tripping over a chair leg, he slammed his hand on the edge of a table. His head hovered a finger’s length above the sharp corner of it. Standing back up, he glanced at the chair. It wasn’t tucked in properly.
He should’ve killed her.
After Geruke had a bath and changed his clothes, he fled the fury forging presence of his master to be showered with moonlight once again. He strolled to the tavern, hoping to rip and tear the world away from his mind. Excitement surged through him as the Garmence Tavern tumult approached him and the orange lustre that emanated from it smothered him.
Something hard slapped the back of his head and jingled. He looked to the side and saw it was Lyrassa approaching him from behind and tapping his head with a small coin pouch, taunting him with a giggle. She probably saw the Templaga beat him down, but did nothing.
Amusement left her face as he turned to her. “They really beat you badly, didn’t they?” Lyrassa said with a frown.
“Did you see?” He grinned.
“Everyone at my bakery saw. We stood outside and watched.”
“You didn’t think of helping me?” He snorted.
“I thought about it.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him towards her. “But it’s also what you get for borrowing money from them.”
“You’d be dead If I didn’t.” He pulled her arm off of him
“I didn’t ask you to buy the most expensive antidote out there,” she fiddled with the diamond necklace she stole as it rattled against her collarbones. “In fact, I don’t recall asking you to do anything.”
“If you didn’t want anyone to help you, then why were you screaming so much?” He chuckled. “Also, there was only one antidote that could cure the poison that got you.”
She sighed and shook her head. “If I cared about you, then I’d continue this stupid argument and make sure I won and made sure you never sacrificed yourself for me again,” She wrapped both of her arms around one of his, hugged it, and grinned up at him. “But because I don’t, I’ll just thank you for being a big, strong and benevolent hero, and encourage you to keep behaving in such a pitiful way. Whilst you do that, I’ll keep honing my ability to fake cry in my bedroom’s mirror when I get back home.”
He laughed as he approached the tavern doors, snaking past brawling drunkards and hopping over others who laid and sprawled out across the floor, unconscious, covered in ale, and red-faced. She was right. She was a good friend, so she wanted the best for him and told him to focus on himself. The laugh felt painful. He wished he wasn’t such an imbecile.
Pushing open the tavern doors, chatter and jeer pummelled his ears. The salty smell of bacon wafted through the air. When they passed mahogany tables with cushioned chairs, the seating of the wealthy, aromas of roast beef, chicken breast, and smoked venison watered Geruke’s mouth. He eyed their sparkling green gurite wine bottles and crimson rossenna. As hands with silver rings grasped them to pour into wine glasses, Geruke glowered.
There was a chance that Geruke wouldn’t be able to drink the ale that dripped down the edges of tankards and covered most of the tables, let alone wine. Yet they guzzled it and spilled it on themselves and their table, responding to their missteps with a giggle and an ‘oops’. Frustration surged within him. Angering him even more was the fact that he used to be the same as them.
After walking far from the wealthy, the smell of the masses battered him. Un-washed clammy bodies, mouldy food rotting on the floor, and piss oozing in the corners created a nose smothering cloud of disgust. The tavern keeper placed a vase of flowers on the occasional table and covered the floor with lavender and rose petals, but it did little to distract him from the cadaver-like stench. When he first visited the tavern a couple of years ago, he nearly vomited upon entering, but now he merely cringed and kept walking onwards.
As Geruke and Lyrassa strolled through the tavern, many of the people there paused in their merry conversations, and their smiles turned to frowns. Some even glared and scowled at them.
Many people knew about Geruke’s and especially Lyrassa’s thieving habits throughout the town. However, none of them had any hard evidence to prove them guilty, they were both friends with Madrily, and none of them wanted to be seen as snitches. And it’s not like either of them stole anything exceptionally expensive from any individual person, even though overall the loot they gained was significant; for Lyrassa, at least. In the face of Geruke’s debts, what he stole was nothing more than a pittance used to trick the Templaga into having hope for him.
He sighed as he sat on a bench and Lyrassa next to him, shoulders brushing. Only as he sat down at a table near the far edge of the tavern did he notice a troupe of bards playing. He nearly laughed in their faces, considering how inconspicuous they were. Did they know no one could even hear their singer’s quiet and high pitched moaning of some melancholic ballad, their lute player’s strumming of avant garde discordant chords, or their flute player’s off-beat whistling? Who hired these guys?
Regardless, a server approached their table and Lyrassa began listing her order; chicken pie, bread rich with wheat, a bowl of various fruits and a bottle of rossenna wine; a noble dinner. The server said that would cost twenty-eight rubounds, but then the tavern keeper arrived.
“Forty-five rubounds for this whore,” he said, glowering down at the two of them. Geruke clicked his tongue and eyed Lyrassa. Why did she have to steal from the tavern keeper, of all people? He specifically warned her he wasn’t someone to cross.
Lyrassa sighed and poured forty five rubounds into the tavern keeper’s hands. He smirked as he strolled off. She put her money pouch back into her pocket, plenty of rubounds still jingling inside it.
“Do you have enough money left to buy another set of food and drink?” Geruke forced the biggest smile he could muster.
Lyrassa smiled back at him and reached below the bench. "Sure thing." She pulled her brown pouch out from under the bench and placed it into his open palm. “Anything for my best friend.”
“Thank you so muc-“
It wasn’t a pouch, and it wasn’t hers. It was a rotting slab of beef, pulsing with twinkling white puss and wriggling grey maggots and big black buzzing flies. “Are you kidding me?” Geruke sighed before he threw it at Lyrassa, but she swerved to the side, letting the disgusting glob slap on and slide across the floor in front of the bards.
She gripped her stomach as she burst into a fit of laughter. Half a slimy maggot and pieces of black stuff continue to ooze across his palm. He plunged his hand at her but her incessant laughter didn’t prevent her from leaning away from it, grabbing his wrist and pressing his palm towards his tunic, continue to giggle the entire time.
“No fighting in my tavern!” The tavern keeper shouted at them as he approached with Lyrassa’s food wobbling on a tray. Geruke and Lyrassa stopped. He wiped his hand on the bench space next to his. Placing her food down on the table, the tavern keeper grumbled. “If I see you fight one more time, I’ll kick you both out.”
Geruke chuckled as he glanced at the other end of the tavern and saw a group of flushed and sweaty men panting and flinging fists at each other.
Lyrassa’s hand shifted across the table and rested on Geruke’s. She sunk her fork into a piece of her steaming and sizzling chicken pie. Geruke’s mouth watered at the sight. “Open wide,” Lyrassa said as she rose the pie to his open mouth with a smile. “You really thought I was gonna let my best friend in the entire world starve?”
Geruke closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Lyrassa’s smooth hand squeezed and rubbed across his. He bit down. Nothing was there. He opened his eyes and Lyrassa popped the chicken pie into her mouth. “You were correct,” she said with a laugh.
He wasn’t surprised, but it was worth a shot, at least. Rolling his eyes, he pressed his elbows to the table and rested his chin on his hands, staring at nothing.
His hand shot at her plate, and she slapped it away. “Don’t even try me,” she said.
The door of the tavern opened and Lerute and Madrily strolled in, both of them still wearing their gambesons; always ready for action. Whilst Lyrassa ripped off her neckalace and shoved it into her pocket, many people in the tavern stood and greeted the two commanders of the Town’s Watch as they walked past, thanking them for protecting the town from monsters, bandits, and pirates, saving the lives of their loved ones, or training their children in combat.
They never got used to Lerute and Madrily deciding to sit down with Geruke and Lyrassa. Despite seeing them do it so many times, their eyes still widened at the sight.
They all greeted each other and sat down, Madrily next to Geruke. The onlookers’ eyes spread even wider when Madrily sat beside Geruke, shifted across the bench towards him, hugged him and kissed him. That would be their first time seeing such a thing. They tried to keep their relationship private in the past to prevent Barsanna from finding out, but because of her mother’s newfound acceptance of it, they didn’t need to hide it anymore.
When Madrily and Lerute ordered their food and drink, the tavern keeper interrupted the server to tell them that it was on the house. After he left, Lerute and Madrily stared at Geruke’s face.
“What happened to your face, Geru?” Madrily shifted closer to Geruke and her soft thighs squeezed against his. She caressed his cheek, running her thumb along his wounds. “Was it the Templaga again?”
“Who else would want to beat me up?”
“Quite a lot,” Lyrassa snorted.
“The Templaga are awful,” Lerute clenched his fists. “Next time they come to harass you, call us over. We’ll show them what a real beating is.”
Lyrassa rolled her eyes, and Geruke laughed. “It’s not that simple, Lerry. If it was, I wouldn’t have beaten them up but actually killed them a long time ago.”
The tavern keeper personally served Lerute and Madrily’s food and drink.
“Do you not have the money to buy anything?” Madrily poured her wine into a tankard and passed it to Geruke.
“No, the Templaga took all of my money,” He guzzled the wine down, holding it in his mouth to savour the taste before he swallowed. He smiled at Madrily. “Thanks.”
Lerute stood up and called over to the tavern keeper. “Can you bring over some food and drink for my friend here?”
“I dunno,” the tavern keeper crossed his arms and stared at Geruke. “Fine. But this, you’ll have to pay for.”
“That’s fine.” Lerute poured some rubounds into the tavern-keeper’s hands and he left.
“Thanks guys,” Geruke and Madrily leaned against each other as she sunk her fork into a piece of chicken breast and served it into his mouth. She did so again, each time with a grin and each time the savoury taste and juicy texture brought him back to his past. A hand of his rested on one of hers. “You’re great friends.”
“No problem,” Lerute nodded. “You deserve it.”
“I enjoy seeing you happy,” Madrily squeezed his hand. “It isn’t an act of kindness; I’m serving myself.”
“You’re a genius, Geru,” Lyrassa stood and walked to sit on the other side of the table, next to Lerute. She pulled her food and drink across the table towards her. “Could you teach me how to enslave people with pity? You do it with such ease and finesse I can’t help but admire it.”
“Even though they’re doing this out of the kindness of their own hearts, I’ll pay them back one day,” Geruke said.
Lyrassa laughed. “Just stop lending money from people. Before you know it they’ll be beating you up in the middle of the street as well.”
“The Templaga aren’t normal,” Madrily said, feeding Geruke another piece of chicken. “Most people are kind and are completely fine with lending money with no strings attached. It’s called charity.”
“You’re the daughter of a Lord, Maddy. Why don’t you just pay off his debts?”
“I love Geru, but my mother is a different matter entirely,” Madrily frowned. “And whilst she may give me money, she’d never give me enough that would be a significant contribution towards his debts.”
“The only thing I can think of doing is getting you better work.” Lerute put his cutlery down and stared at Geruke. “Why don’t you join the Town’s Watch?”
“The answer’s still no,” Geruke shook his head, peeling an orange from Madrily’s fruit bowl.
“Why do you keep refusing?” Madrily put her cutlery down as well to stare at him with a frown. “You’re an exceptional swordsman, compared to the average person, at least.”
“Yeah, much better than you,” Geruke grinned, popping an orange slice in his mouth.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Madrily chuckled.
“Given that belief, why refuse?” Lerute turned to Lyrassa. “You’re on par with Geru as well, so why don’t you both join? You’ll make a lot more money with the Watch than as a blacksmith apprentice or as a baker.”
“Make more money?” Lyrassa said, sipping wine. “That’s debatable. Not to mention, It’s too much of a hassle.”
“You’re already skilled fighters.” Lerute reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny book that said ‘Tennivoor Monstology,’ on the front cover. “All you’d need to do is read up on the various monsters you’d have to fight in the Watch. Find out their weaknesses and strengths and stuff like that.”
“I don’t think I read that book,” Madrily stood up, walked around the table, and leaned over Lerute’s shoulder to look at the book.
“It talks about the different monsters in the Tennivoor Kingdom,” Geruke and Lyrassa yawned as Lerute opened the book and flipped through the pages to land on one in the middle. “Tennivoor used to be ruled by the santhrasha and they used to follow the Lisian religion.”
“Yeah, my mother taught me about them,” Madrily crouched beside Lerute whilst Lyrassa shot her fork at Lerute’s plate, snatching a piece of beef. Geruke grabbed his tankard and downed it with one flick of his head. “They believed that music was the language of the Gods and granted people magical powers.”
“Exactly,” Lerute said. Geruke grabbed Lerute’s plate and shoved all of his beef onto his own. Lyrassa snatched Madrily’s gurite wine bottle, but Geruke grabbed it as well and glared at Lyrassa. He pulled, and she did as well. “And because of that, when people and especially merchants would travel between cities, towns and villages, they wouldn’t spend money on hiring bodyguards, they’d instead hire bards to sing for them. Because they believed that music would inspire God to protect them.”
“What does that have to do with the monsters in Tennivoor?” Madrily asked, oblivious to the tug of war for her wine bottle that raged behind Lerute’s dreadfully dull book.
Lerute chuckled. “Their religious practices are actually kinda funny when you take into consideration the monsters that live in Tennivoor,” Geruke clicked his tongue; Lyrassa won, laughed, and drank it. “There’s a type of monster in Tennivoor called the ogoll. It’s drawn towards loud noises. There’s also a type of bird in Tennivoor called the sinelody bird. According to the Lisian religion, it’s a holy bird that’s sinful to hunt or eat. The reason they think it's holy is that they’re drawn to melodic sounds, regardless of whether it comes from singing or from playing an instrument. And not only are they drawn to it, they even begin singing and tweeting on top of those melodies, adding depth and volume to the pre-existing music.”
Madrily laughed. “I see, so their singing would actually lead to ogolls attacking them,” After Lyrassa emptied Madrily’s bottle, she exhaled with a smug grin on her face. It dropped when she looked down and saw Geruke snatching away her own wine bottle. She reached for it, but Geruke pulled it away and emptied it down his throat.
“It’s even more ludicrous because they’d sing even louder as they ran away from the ogolls, which would just bring more to the-” Lerute stopped when he turned and saw all of his food gone from his plate. Madrily sat back down, seeing all of her food gone as well. Geruke and Lyrassa pointed at each other. Lerute rubbed his head as if trying to push back a headache whereas Madrily punched Geruke’s arm.
“Why are you so angry?” Geruke giggled. “You were giving me your food, anyway.”
“I’m fine with giving you my food, but don’t steal it behind my back,” she frowned.
“Anyway, you two found that little lesson in Monstology interesting?” He slid the book across the table. “Has that inspired the birth of some new passion within you two?”
“No,” Lyrassa snatched the book, creased the cover with her tight grip, and flung the drab thing across the tavern, tapping the nape of the drunkard and waking him up. “That was the most boring thing I have ever heard.”
“You could’ve just said that without throwing it,” Lerute sighed as he stood and trudged through the tavern to grab it.
“Even If I found that little exposition dump interesting,” Geruke said. “That wouldn’t justify working at a job that has such a ludicrously high injury rate and death rate, just so I could earn a bit more than I would as a blacksmith apprentice, which isn’t a big accomplishment; I don’t get paid anything in the first place. And even the increased earnings aspect of your argument is debatable. If my master wasn’t such an idiot, he would earn a lot more money and would’ve made me a journeyman a long time ago.”
“I don’t even know why the two of you do it,” Lyrassa said, turning to Lerute as he came back and sat down, sliding his book into his pocket. She turned to Madrily “Especially you, Maddy. Didn’t your mother put a lot of effort into stopping you from working for the Town Watch? It’s not like you even need money.”
“I think Leru is in a similar situation as well,” Geruke said, turning to him. “Didn’t your parents complain about needing some extra sailors to help operate their fishing boat?”
Lerute and Madrily both nodded. “I just thought I could do more good for the world by joining the Town’s Watch,” Lerute said.
“We’re both talented warriors,” Madrily said. “The Town’s Watch struggled to find volunteers before we joined and quickly rose to the rank of commander. And once we did, pirates attacked the town less, and the Watch got stronger with the help of the training we provided.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Lyrassa asked, staring elsewhere in the tavern.
“You’re both the same as us,” Lerute said. “You’re both talented. Don’t you want to do your part in protecting this town? It’d bring a lot of confidence into the team once they see how strong you both are.”
“I don’t care about how confident they are,” Geruke said, crossing his arms. “When Barssanna begins paying the Watch higher wages, let me know.”
Madrily shook his head at him. “You’re petty.”
Geruke frowned and wished he just kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t afford to lower her opinion of him.
“Considering my reputation, I also doubt they’d be happy with my presence,” Lyrassa said, glaring around the room at the rest of the tavern's customers.
Madrily stared at Lyrassa’s empty wine bottle. “On that note, how were you able to afford to buy so much food and wine?”
“I was having a terrible day today but my knight in shining armour arrived with a bag of rubounds,” Lyrassa winked at Geruke and leaned over the table, resting her hands on his. “He loaned more money from the Templaga so he could treat me for being such a good friend of his.”
Geruke snorted and pulled his hand away, wrapping it around Madrily’s shoulder. “I agree that I’m dumb, Lyrassa, but my skull isn’t that empty. “
“So you went on another thieving spree again, I assume?” Madrily glared at Lyrassa. “Just because you’re my friend doesn’t mean I won’t arrest you and seize your property when I find evidence.”
“Is that right?” Lyrassa grinned at Geruke. “Even if you find out that he came with me?”
“You went with her?” Madrily frowned at Geruke. “I thought you were better than that.”
Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he forced a laugh. “Come on, Maddy,” He pulled her close. “You know better than to trust Lyrassa.”
“That’s true,” Madrily relaxed in his grasp. “But I do sometimes wonder where you get the money to hold off the Templaga from as a blacksmith apprentice. I think any normal person would’ve just accepted mine and Lerute’s offers to join the Watch,” She glared at Geruke again. “Unless you’re lying to me.”
Geruke gulped. “My master sometimes gets lazy and tells me to do his work for him. When that happens, he pays me a bit.”
“Your master, Jarlunn, pays you money?” She shifted away from him, leaving his grasp.
“When I work overtime.”
“Is that so?” She turned away from him and crossed her arms.
Silence spread across their table. The only sound that emanated from it was Lyrassa’s boots tapping on the table as she leaned her legs on it, and her snicker as she watched a brawl at the other end of the tavern.
Geruke berated himself, wishing he kept quiet. He clenched his fists and sweat dripped across his skin as glimpses of what he did earlier in the night flashed through his mind. What would Madrily think when she found out what happened to her manor? What if she was friends with the guards? Images of their bleeding and crying corpses, and their mourning friends and family, battered his mind. Those images gained a sharp sting after Madrily’s mourning face entered them. He thought his time in the tavern would be a reprieve, but it was the opposite. It seemed there was no escape.
Lerute wryly grinned, seemingly disturbed by the awkward silence, and turned to the bards. “Did you guys know bards were playing here?” He giggled as he pointed at them.
“Not until you pointed them out,” Madrily chuckled. “Why are they playing such a slow and sad song at a tavern so quietly?”
“How about we change that,” Lerute stood, walked around the table and grabbed Geruke’s wrist. “You know how to play the lute, right? I bet we could do a much better job.”
“I haven’t played the lute for many years,” Geruke pulled his arm out of Lerute’s grasp. “And even if I practised every day I’m not gonna perform for free.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Embarrassing myself with my rusty skills isn’t my idea of fun.”
“Do it,” Lyrassa said with a grin. “I’ve not teared up from laughter in quite a long time and I think you might be the key to making it happen.”
“You won’t embarrass yourself,” Madrily smiled and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s like second nature.”
“I’m not doing it,” Geruke turned away and crossed his arms.
“We could get tips,” Lerute said.
Geruke’s eyes flicked up at Lerute. “But what if we’re bad and we get little? Especially since we’ll be splitting it fifty fifty, I won’t get anything worth it.”
Lerute sighed. “I’ll give you all the tips that I get.”
“I’m in.” Geruke stood and strolled over to the bards, his approach causing the bard’s sorrowful moaning, strumming and whistling to halt. He pointed at the lute player. “Hand me that.”
Geruke and Lerute negotiated with the bards to give them a chance to win the crowd. They convinced them with little resistance; they didn’t seem all that bothered. Lerute told Geruke that he plans to sing the classic, ‘The Bandit of Stradrid’.
Geruke sat on a stool and tuned the lute. He fiddled with the strings and the many lessons he got as a noble child flashed through his mind. Lerute cleared his throat and hummed his scales to prepare.
Geruke remembered how he walked past the Town walls one time, where Lerute would guard throughout the day, and he remembered hearing him sing to pass the time. What he heard was average, but that could be because he was singing just to kill time. What would his singing be like when actually trying to perform in front of a crowd? Would he get serious under pressure and sing much better than normal? Or would he fumble under pressure and sing much worse than normal?
Lyrassa prematurely giggled as she watched Geruke fiddle with his strings. Madrily half-smiled and cheered them on as they finished preparations, probably not expecting much from them. The tavern’s customers continued to chatter and refrained from acknowledging their presence. Yet Lerute counted down, his feet tapping.
Three. Two. One.
His voice boomed and devoured the tavern’s tumult. All went quiet and listened to the rhythmic and melodic soaring and flowing of his voice. Geruke nearly forgot to join in and started his part on the second bar of the song late; his feet tapping to Lerute’s singing on instinct and his mind lost in the sinuous rising and falling of his voice.
Lerute didn’t stumble when under pressure, but Geruke was a different matter. His fingers shivered and fumbled, worrying that he made a mistake and ruined Lerute’s surprising first impression. But after a few bars of him joining in the jam, the tavern drunks began nodding their heads and tapping their feet. He glanced up at Lyrassa and she wasn’t laughing, just smiling like back at the lake. Geruke didn’t consider himself to be a very knowledgeable person, but one thing he knew without a doubt was that If Lyrassa wasn’t laughing, then he was succeeding. Geruke’s breaths deepened and his body stilled; he was doing fine.
Approaching the end of the first verse, many in the tavern smiled, hummed and rocked side to side in line with their bright and sunny rhythms and melodies. Many strolled up to them and flicked coins and dropped pouches filled with rubounds by their feet, thanking them.
At the song’s first bridge, Madrily and Lyrassa started clapping a beat, all of the tavern customers one by one began following in their stead. At the end of the bridge, Madrily and Lyrassa started singing. During the chorus, the tavern rumbled with a melodic roar.
They all jumped to their feet at the beginning of the second verse. The tiny fragments of melody that existed in the roar vanished, incoherent yelling replacing it during the second bridge. As soon as the second chorus began, the tavern exploded with dancing. People twirled, hopped, and swung their arms about.
Geruke put his lute down; no one could hear under the ear rupturing noise. Geruke and Lerute glanced at each other and laughed and bumped fists. Lerute was always optimistic, but the response they got must’ve even surprised him. They both joined in with the rest of the tavern’s shouting, singing, and dancing.
Madrily overwhelmed Lyrassa’s resistance and pulled her off the table to dance. Her dancing began hesitantly, but eventually, the excitement of the tavern pulled her into its swirling fury. It pulled everyone into its drunken depths.
Anxious shouting whispered from the front of the tave-
Amidst the merry chaos, Madrily ended up spinning and hopping through it all to bump into Geruke. Stress washed away from him as she wrapped her smooth hands around his, leaned into him, and danced.
“Pirates!”
They stared into each other’s eyes as they pivoted, spun and hopped in each other’s sweaty and warm grasp.
“We’re being attacked!”
Her cheeks reddening, their bodies squeezed against each other. They had their disagreements, but her love for him flew over that barrier. Peace smothered him as her cherry-red lips, glimmering golden glints in the candlelight, glided through the hot hair towards hi-
A gauntleted hand slammed on Madrily’s shoulder, ripping away her lips from his face, his peace, and his comfort. She turned to face a soldier of the Town’s Watch. He was fully suited up with a sword, gambeson, helmet, gorget, and pauldrons. He wasn’t there to drink.
“Pirates have been spotted heading to our coast, commander,” He said.
