Bar Fly Fracas

[Andros]

When the pretty barmaid brought two sudsy ales to the thirsty men, she leaned far over the table and gave Andros an excellent view. Most women in taverns are for hire and this one was advertising her services. He wasn’t about to indulge, but he did smile at her and give her a small coin for a tip. She grinned back and he couldn’t resist winking, which earned him an attractive giggle. On her way back to the kitchen she swayed seductively and Andros couldn’t help but sigh.


“Beautiful,” he said a little wistfully. Then, clearing his head, he picked up his cup and offered a toast. “To you and your good swimming, my friend.”

After taking a big sip and suppressing what would have been a large belch, Andros turned to Hakon’s inquiry.

“That’s a good question, lad. Part of it was just wanderlust. That’s what I told everyone at home. I spent my whole life on my little island and in Evrotai and I wanted to see the world. And I’ve seen a lot already. I’ve had real adventures. It was a successful move in that regard.”

He leaned in and lowered his voice, taking Hakon into his confidence.

“There’s more to it, though. The truth is that things didn’t feel right for me at home, without Elena I mean. I wasn’t a burden yet - I was still leading the village, still making good money. But I’d have to retire from all of that eventually, and then what? Just sit around alone and crotchety, telling boring stories to kids and grandkids who’ve heard it them before? And without Elena to cheer me up and keep me company? No. I wanted to grow old with her and being there without her year after year was too painful. That’s the truth. When I’m here I still think of her all the time, but it doesn’t hurt so much.”

He’d never expressed those feelings to anyone before. His daughters would have talked him out of leaving if he had, and he’d have slowly sunk into depression. Instead he was having adventures and making new friends. It was the right move, no matter how much he missed home and family.

“If I live long enough to get rich here, I’ll go home and bring everyone wonderful gifts and build a real gymnasium for the Upper Village. And if I die here I won’t be a burden to anybody. That’s the plan.”

[Hakon]

Hakon gratefully returned the toast, quaffing the beer with gusto. It tasted extra good after spending the intervening hours in the watering hole. As he set the mug down it occurred to him that at least for part of that, he was swimming. Swimming in a bona fide way, according to someone who a bit of an expert at it! He grinned at the thought.

Listening to Andros' story was harder, though. It was Hakon's turn to feel the gulf of years between them, and he was a man without a family talking to a man whose family was central to his entire life. It was hard to properly understand, Hakon thought, but he owed it to Andros to try.

He took a long gulp of beer. "I think," he said after some time to get the words in the right order in his head, "that you are the only one who feels that you are not useful. You are the patriarch of your family, no? Your use is not just in guiding the whole family and raising them, but also in being there for them to smooth over disputes, or to educate them, like you did with me today. Thank you for that, by the way -- it's not relevant to this topic, but I think you are quite a good teacher, Andros."

"In any case, though, you do not have to contribute in the same way as a young man just starting his family to contribute. What we do for our fellow man must change with our age. Even in the tower, there are modified or lighter duties on the roster that go to the very old, the very young, or the very sick. Men like me tend to get stuck with the more strenuous tasks like chopping wood or moving around boxes in the storeroom. I, well, I don't know, but I assume it must be similar for villagers and townsfolk, as well. One can't expect a seventy year old to plow a field with the same vigor as a twenty year old, but that does not mean the seventy year old is less useful. He should just be doing different things."

"Though, perhaps you have earned yourself a chance to see the world," Hakon said with a fond smile. "You have many daughters, yes? Raising them to become young women must have been a challenge. I'm glad you found your way to our cold country, even if we lack good wine."

[Andros]

Andros waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, there would be plenty to do, even when I got blind and sickly. They put the old men to work carding the wool or grinding flour with the women, and the children would ask to hear my stories again and again.”

A note of bitterness had crept into his voice. He wasn’t thrilled to be old, and he was distinctly less thrilled o have the old age he’d hoped for taken from him by Elena’s death. He knew, in theory, that remarrying years ago like everyone told him he should ould have solved that problem, but here he was, single and getting morose in a foreign country.

But thinking about the girls cheered him up. He paused, then smiled at Hakon.

“Yes, six of them and 12 grandchildren lwhen I left, and there ought to be a few more now, Anastasia and Irene were both both pregnant. It certainly was a challenge getting them all raised by myself. We do things a little, uh, differently on Teos. Our women don’t act like yours here Radenor. You’d never see a woman running around bearing arms and fighting rogue mages, for one, and none of my girls would dress like that,” he nodded his head at the barmaid in her low cut dress, now making eyes at a new arrival at the bar.

“I still find it a little shocking when I see it, but sometimes I think they’d be happier here, with more freedom. It was hard to teach them all that, being a man by myself. The girls are a bit more independent than most men in Teos prefer in their wives, though I did manage to get them all married anyway. It helps that they’re all very pretty. Well, I think so, anyway.”

He signed. “I miss them all, but I think they’ll be happier raising their families without their old father moping around talking about how life used to be.”

If any of them could read, an exchange of letters would bring him great joy. Maybe someday he could afford to send a messenger all the way back home with his gifts and best wishes.

Andros was getting sad again and decided he’d talked enough about himself. He was about to ask Hakon about his family when, perhaps fortunately, he heard a clay mug smash on a table and whipped his head around to see what the commotion was about.

It was obvious that the newcomer had broken a mug on purpose, that was clear. The man looked furious, face red under a two-day beard, veins on his neck popping out. He stood and walked slowly towards the barmaid, who looked scared and started backing away.

It wasn’t clear what had caused the commotion. Could there have been dispute over the price? Or perhaps the barmaid was less available than Andros had imagined, or than the newcomer would prefer? In any case the situation was about to escalate. Distraction was Andros’ favorite trick to interrupt a brewing brawl, so he thought fast


He stood up and started walking towards a tree on the other side of the outdoor bar. His path took him directly between the customer and the barmaid and he paused to nod at the angry man and smile.

“Excuse me, just going to take a leak. You know how it is with ale, friend, you don’t buy it - you just rent it.”

Ideally being reminded he wasn’t alone would prompt the man to sit down, accept a free drink to smooth over whatever had ruffled his feathers, and get on with the day.

[Hakon]

Hakon had never considered Radenor to be particularly progressive. He'd never considered it to be particularly anything. Jorikford and Northradica were the center of the universe, the universal standard by which other countries could be judged. Still, he listened with rapt attention to Andros discuss Teos, a place where women were more modest and apparently more subservient. To him, it sounded well enough -- certainly, there had been times in his life when the thought of having women in a separate sphere would have appealed -- but he wondered what they did with their women who were meant to be warriors or merchants or other such things. It was better to let people choose their own path according to their proclivities and what the Path dictated. Within reason, of course.

He was about to say as much, when Andros continued. It was clear that the man both hated being far from home and felt he couldn't return. It seemed almost like a self-imposed exile. Still, self-imposed or not, it was an exile. Telling Andros that he could go home would accomplish nothing. The man knew he could. He didn't want to, however. Maybe he felt like he couldn't, until he had something to show for his trip up North? It was no small endeavor, and Hakon imagined vaguely it had to come at great financial cost to come here, so Andros had to make a profit for this venture to be worth it. He was not well acquainted with the costs of things, but he knew that few things outside of the tower were free.

When the air in the bar turned sour, Andros reacted before Hakon did. The man got up and attempted to calm the man who had casually smashed his mug to make a crude shiv. The drunk proved quite belligerent, however, and instead of smiling in turn, the man hurled a few choice profanities at Andros before telling him to fuck off.

Hakon stood up to join his friend. Perhaps a show of force would work where a show of friendliness had failed.

He stood up straight and looked at the drunk with his broken mug. Bigger and broader than Andros, but purely from a physical perspective, no match for Hakon unless he had some unexpected facility with weapons. He used his ethersight to check for magic, but found none. This close to the tower, any rogue would be fairly stupid to announce themselves in that way, but ale made idiots of men. So he looked down at the man, making sure the man registered the physical difference between Hakon and him.

"I'd sit down, if I were you. Touch Andros or the barmaid or anyone else in this bar, and I'll take you out to the midden like the garbage you are." Then he spat at the man's feet.

He had a feeling that whatever else was going on with the drunk, he was angry and going to erupt. Best to make sure his target would be Hakon, someone who could take the punishment without any lasting consequences.

[Andros]

Well, there’s a way to calm down a situation and that wasn’t quite it. Yes, the drunk had insulted Andros but he’d heard worse. There was still a possibility to defuse the tension and Andros was determined to give it an honest try. Maybe more so since Hakon had to stick his nose in and escalate things.

That’s what his conscious mind thought. His unconscious mind had him take a step backwards towards Hakon, nearly walking into him. That’s because his unconscious mind wasn’t pretending he was 20 years younger, on home turf, and armed. It new this was a dangerous situation.

Still, Andros spoke up, trying to solve the problem before violence became inevitable.

“My friend is a little hotheaded, you see, and very loyal,” he gestured to Hakon, “but you’re a reasonable man, I can tell. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk like civilized people. This is a civilized country, yes? You want to drink and have a nice time, the barmaid wants to sell you food and drink. We can come to an arrangement.”

The barmaid, who’d wisely positioned herself behind Hakon, wasn’t having it.

“No we can’t. He’s not welcome here. He complained that the ale was too weak and refused to pay. When I said it was fine when he had three cups and he had to pay anyway he slapped my rear end and tried to pull me into his lap. Nobody touches me without asking, I won’t have it in my bar. I’ll go get my brothers from inside and they’ll rip him apart, you watch.”

“You tried to cheat me!” the drunk responded, slurring his words, “and you’re a whore anyway, I’d have paid well - if you were better than your shit ale, anyway.”

Indignant, the barmaid shouted back. “I am not! If I like my fun and men like to give me presents now and again, that’s not your business. I certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with an ugly, drunken ingrate who probably can’t get it up anyway.”

This was going from bad to worse. Andros stepped out between them, hoping to calm things down before anybody got really hurt.

“My lord,” he started, overly polite, “It’s too nice a day for a brawl. Why don’t you pay for what you drank and be on your way. I’m sure the next town will have a tavern more to your liking. Isn’t that right, madam?”

He looked at the barmaid, hoping for confirmation. That’s why he didn’t see the punch coming. It got him square in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground hard. It hurt badly enough that he didn’t get right back up. Instead he closed his eyes tight and waited for the pain to pass.

[Hakon]

Hakon had been working on his temper ever since he'd been brought to the tower. Well, first, he'd had to work on night terrors and crying, but after those receded, he'd had to work on his temper. The last time he'd been on an outing with Andros, he had admittedly lost his temper, and while Hakon had no intention of taking this slight against his friend lying down, the key was to respond in a more measured way.

The other very important thing here was to not use magic against a civilian. That would be an abuse of his power as a guildmage, for which he could be harshly censured. No, for today, he was just an ordinary man helping his friend Andros in the tavern.

That did not mean he had to be nice, however.

The first thing he had to do was get him away from Andros, who had gone down rather easily due to being surprised. So Hakon took advantage of the momentary swell of confidence from the drunk to grab the man with both hands and haul him bodily away from Andros. He didn't want his friend to be kicked while he was down. Also, he needed his opponent more to the left for what was coming next, which was his fist to the side of the man's neck with the approximate force of a millstone bearing down on wheat. Wasting no time to see what effect that had, he followed that up with an open-handed slap with his left hand to the man's ear, cupping his palm with the hope that it would destabilize his opponent and confuse him.

When the drunk moved in with his crude shiv, he was already off-balance and upset, but the ale was keeping him from feeling the pain of the blows Hakon had landed on him. That alone should have been proof that the man's claim was false; watered down ale would not allow for such inebriation. The man made a swipe at him with the shiv, a slashing motion at his face, and missed when Hakon reared back before connecting on a long shallow cut along Hakon's arm. He hissed through his teeth, which turned into an involuntary snarl.

There was the anger. Part of him wanted nothing more than to give in and make an example of this scum, but he knew he would get in trouble, so he held himself in check. He had to get the shiv out of this guy's hand, or otherwise render it useless. So he used the man's slowed reflexes and inexperience with combat to his advantage and got in close enough grab his wrist in Hakon's right hand hold his arm nice and straight and rigid, then use his left to twist and pull with all his strength. If he'd done it right, he'd just broken the man's wrist, but even if he hadn't, it hurt like nothing else. The man obligingly screamed and dropped his improvised blade, and Hakon didn't bother to hide his grin. Fighting made him feel alive.

He was not one to give up an advantage, so he pressed his now-disarmed opponent by tackling him to the ground, using his strength and weight to easily gain the advantage, pinning him and socking the side of the man's head a few more times until he went from looking angry to looking dazed.

"You'll pay what you owe," he said. "And you'll apologize to the maid for impugning her honor, or I'll grind you up like flour."

Now that he had the drunk pinned, he spared a glance over at Andros, who was not yet on his feet, but was at least partially recovered. The man's eyes were open and he seemed ready to regain his feet. Hakon smiled at him, relieved to see his friend was alright. Then the drunk wiggled under him and his attention returned to the man under him with a fiendish scowl.

"I suggest you give up," Hakon said in a tone that belied his politesse.

[Andros]

Well, swim lessons were done for the day. Even before he stood up, Andros decided that when this was over he was going to drink himself to sleep and doubtless wake up in a lot of pain. It wasn’t that bad a hit, really, but it takes so much longer to recover at this age.

By the time he was off the ground the fight was done. The animal who’d attacked him was pinned on the ground by Hakon, drooling and trying vainly to roll out from under him while sobbing quietly. Clearly he’d already had the stuffing knocked out of him. It was a rather pathetic sight.

Andros had been worried Hakon might just kill the drunk. The Hakon he met on their expedition to Daravin last year probably would have done so, but now he was more restrained. Andros was pleased. He doesn’t like violence, but he can’t complain that the man who hurt him and frightened the barmaid had gotten what was coming to him. He smiled at Hakon. Somehow the movement of his face made his shoulder hurt, but he ignored it..

“Oh, Hakon - I had him right where I wanted him and then you had to get involved,” he teased. Then he slapped his protector on the back, jovially. “Thank you, friend. You’re the hero of the hour.”

He stuck his foot into the drunk’s side, not hard but it still elicited a moan. Probably a broken rib. Good. He wasn’t worth any more talk.

“Madam,” he addressed the bartender, “why don’t you call those brothers of yours to take what he owes you plus extra for your troubles and then escort him out of here. I think the insult to your honor has been paid back in full. Then I’d like to buy another round for myself and my friend.”

She walked off towards the tavern building, making sure to step on the drunk’s outstretched hand on the way. Only a moment later, two scrawny teenagers marched out behind their older sister. She’d been bluffing. Doubtless the drunk had imagined two big bruisers ready to beat him to a pulp,, as had Andros. But these boys were more than a match for the drunk, who was injured to the point that he could barely stand. They dragged him off down the road, perhaps to some local sheriff or perhaps to dump him in the woods to sleep it off. They seemed unphased. This must be a regular occurrence for them.

Andros sat back down at his table, relieved and happy to have that behind him. The barmaid brought over two large mugs and a bowl of soft hot pretzels, setting them down at the table. She put a hand on the small of Hakon’s back, steering him to his seat.

“You’re never paying for a drink here again, big boy, come any time you like.” she said. “Or for anything else.” She kept a hand on Hakon’s shoulder after he sat down. If he understood the implication that her services would be available for free, he didn’t give any indication. Andros certainly did and barely suppressed a laugh. The poor girl didn’t know she was butting her head against a stone wall. Andros couldn’t even be jealous that Hakon was the hero who got the female attention and Andros was just the old fool who got himself a bruised shoulder. It was too funny - and besides, Hakon deserved it, even if he didn’t seem to appreciate it.

When Hakon sat down, Andros noticed a tiny trickle of blood leaking onto the table from his arm. He’d been wounded, though it can’t have been deep. It was an opportunity to save Hakon from the barmaid’s affections and to show him a little gratitude.

“Madam,” he began, continuing to lay the courtesy on thick,” your savior is bleeding. Would you mind getting me a clean cloth and a bowl of warm water and I’ll tend to him.”

When she left he turned to Hakon. “How bad is it? Roll up your sleeve and let's see the damage?” Then he looked his friend in the eye. “And thank you. You saved me. Again.”

[Hakon]

Watching Andros take command of the situation was something Hakon marveled at. Hakon knew himself to be effective at what he was able to do, but he was no leader, and he struggled with people. When he'd been sitting on the drunk, he'd been thinking Okay, now what? and it was as though Andros read his mind and solved the problem for him. He happily remanded the drunk to the barmaid's brothers and watched with some satisfaction as they were carried out of the bar.

He did not entirely grasp what was being offered to him.

"Thank you very much, Miss," he replied, "but I will pay upon my return. It would not do to take advantage of your generosity, and you and your family no doubt work very hard to run this tavern."

She looked at him oddly after that for reasons he did not entirely understand, but once she was gone the matter of his injury came up.

"It's," Hakon paused. In truth, it was a deep slash across his arm. It was not nothing. "It's not that bad," he said, hoping to minimize any fussing Andros planned to do. "I have had worse."

Then, he thought better of it. "Some treatment may not go amiss, however," he added. If nothing else, he did not want to appear ungrateful for Andros' care. "What about you, Andros? Did he hurt you, or just catch you unawares?"

He looked around before leaning in. "You may have noticed when we were swimming, but I have a new Mark," he said quietly. "Grave. I'm still learning, but I can heal you in turn once we quit this place. You should not have to suffer with an injury because of some drunken scoundrel."

[Andros]

Andros’ eyes flew up at the mention of grave. Brand was a logical type of magic for someone like Hakon. He’d seen him use it to great effect in combat. But grave is something different. Life giving and life stealing, all at once. Powerful and menacing and fascinating.

It frightened Andros a bit, knowing Hakon might have the ability to steal someone’s life force and use it for his own purpose, or that might learn it some day. He drew back slightly, then realized it was a rather low impulse - this is Hakon after all. If he can’t be trusted with it, who can? Instead he stood up and started to tend to Hakon’s wound.

He picked up a cloth the barmaid had dropped off and dipped it in water, then cleaned away the blood surrounding the gash. It seemed deeper than he’d thought. When it was clean he took another dry cloth and pressed it down to stop the bleeding. While he worked, he spoke quietly, giving encouragement.

“This may hurt a bit, but you can handle it, lad. You’re doing well. We already knew you’re brave. Almost done now…there we go. All set. Why don’t you hold that in place until the blood stops.”

Then he sat down directly next to Hakon rather than across the table That let him whisper.

“Grave is serious business, but you could certainly use it today. That cut’s got to sting. I’m not badly hurt myself but if you can keep my shoulder from being sore in the morning I’d appreciate it. Why don’t we go off into the woods to take a piss and then you can show me how it’s done. I’d be fascinated to see grave in action”

As he stood up, Andros clapped Hakon on the shoulder. “The tattoo suits you, by the way. I noticed but didn’t know what it was for.”

[Hakon]

Hakon detested being fussed over, in general. He found it patronizing. When he'd been younger and in the tower, some of the older people, mostly women, tried to mother him , and this was often the form it took. He had not taken well to it, and it still raised his hackles even though he was a full grown man at this point. So he was a bit wary of giving Andros his arm. He knew it needed treatment, but he also knew he hated being treated, even though Andros was doing a kind and hospitable deed for him.

To his surprise, though, it was not so bad. Andros seemed like an expert at it. Presumably this was the benefit, Hakon surmised, of being patriarch of a large family; many children and grandchildren with many skinned knees. From Hakon's perspective, his knife wound was just the grown up version of that. Whatever the reason, Hakon found that he just didn't mind being close to Andros. It was actually kind of nice, and he found himself complying with the soothing instructions without any thought to talking back or cracking a joke about how ridiculous the situation was, which would have came naturally to him in the Tower. Not so, out here.

He held the cloth to the cut as he'd been bid to do, but wasn't sure what to do with it once the blood stopped flowing. Would the barmaid want her soiled rag back? Would keeping it be considered theft? Fortunately, she answered that question for him by taking it out of his hands as though it was were most natural thing in the world, and replacing it with a mug of ale. She then supplied one to Andros, as well.

She smiled at him once more, but it was different than before. He couldn't rightly say how it was different, but he registered something had shifted.

When she had left, he broached what seemed like a decently safe conversational starter to Andros: "I don't think I understand women."