General Pol pulled over two potato sacks of garbage behind the bar. “Take out the trash.”
“You take out the trash.”
General Pol retorted. “I’m your boss who pays your wage.”
My‑re's brow furrowed. She glared at General Pol and the two sacks. It had been busy at the Broken Sword tavern, so much so she hadn’t even been able to train in the arena. She also admitted that working so close and long with the Rirorni general had frayed both of their nerves. They needed additional help at the tavern and a break from the twelve-hour workdays.
“Next week, you’re taking out the trash.”
“Next week is my week. Now, remove the trash before it starts stinking up the place.”
My‑re snatched the two tattered cloth sacks and commented, “I’m quitting.” Something she threatened frequently.
“If you quit, you’re not getting paid.”
“When do I get paid?”
“In two weeks.”
Grumbling, walking down the tavern's center, My‑re passed a table with several richly dressed merchants. She had served their table for the past two hours. They talked about securing a lucrative trade deal with a Warden of the Dark Circle, actually bragging louder as she approached.
“Another round, wench!” called out one of the merchants with a chubby face, an underbite, and three days’ worth of stubble around it. His nose was small, with its tip pointed slightly downward. He scratched at the side of his head, which had about four days’ worth of stubble.
My‑re closed her eyes at the comment and suppressed her ire. The tab for the table had grown quite large. She also wanted to ‘play nice,’ as General Pol had reprimanded her after ‘educating’ several patrons on their lack of manners. She turned and forced a smile.
“My good sir, I will be right with you.” My‑re proceeded to take out the trash.
RAP! RAP!
The tavern grew silent. The merchant had hit a large gold astrum on the table, hard.
“I don’t think you understood. Another round, wench,” the merchant said, looking at his friends for their approval, then added slowly. “Now.”
My‑re looked up and saw General Pol shaking his head negatively at her. He had heard the commotion, too, and scooted the bucket of fresh sawdust out from behind the bar. She also saw the other patrons staring at her. Some grinned widely and seemed eager to see what she would do. Money exchanged hands between them quickly.
No one had ever fired her before, but tonight seemed like as good a time as any to experience this life moment. She let down the two trash sacks, opened the top, and turned.
Three Shewish giants rose from their table at the back of the room and moved toward her. Their footsteps were heavy in the silence of the room. The older leader rose fully eight feet in height. Two equally impressive companions flanked either side of him. Their presence made the room shrink. The three brushed past My‑re, approaching the merchant table, and stood over them. Their bodies were easily twice the size of the merchants.
The Shewish Giant leader sniffed a couple of times.
“Gromp no like the smell of garbage. Garbage irritates Gromp. Gromp thinks little girl should take out the garbage now.” Gromp turned to the rapping merchant. The giant’s downward gaze looked like as if a father was home from a hard day’s work and would issue forth punishment, quickly and with impunity, if there was any talkback.
The merchant closed his hand around the large gold sparkler and waved rapidly for My‑re to continue her task.
As My‑re left, Gromp said to the group of merchants, “That garbage gone, but Gromp still smells garbage. Garbage irritates Gromp. Gromp thinks garbage should leave…now.”
The merchant group hastily dropped several small sacks of coins on the table and scuttled out of the Broken Sword tavern.