“It tastes like I’m drinking old leather,” Rao of the Skull Squadron said as he took his first sip of mushroom mead at the bar of the Broken Sword Tavern. He took another.
“No, wait. It’s like I’m drinking burnt, maybe smoky cork.”
General Pol of the Skull Squadron stable glared at him from behind the counter and wiped up a spill with a rag. “That’ll be one silver.”
“No, it has the flavor of what maybe wet peat on bark would taste like.”
“One silver,” Pol reiterated.
“It’s an acquired taste, but I’m getting used to it,” Rao said placing a coin on the counter as he held up the glass and looked at the brown liquor.
“Little man has good taste like Gromp,” Gromp the Shewish Giant said coming up to the bar and put his oversized hand around his neck and snorted in a unnerving chuckle, “Gromp glad he didn’t eat ya.”
Pol poured three, double-portioned mushroom meads for Gromp.
Gromp dropped a handful of silver on the bar, grabbed the glasses, whiffed in the bouquet, and left back to his table with his two Shew companions.
“Is there anything else?” Pol asked.
Rao waived him off.
Pol snorted as he left to server other customers.
Turning in his stool and leaning against the bar, Rao surveyed the patrons in the tavern. Some soldiers recently paid, a couple lord protectors, workers just finishing there shift for the day. My-re serving drinks. He looked her up and down and at her bare leg peeking through the side opening of her long skirt, but she caught his glance. He smiled. She rolled her eyes and turned away.
He then spotted Anusha from his stable sitting alone at a table behind a support beam. Taking his drink, he walked over and sat.
Anusha glanced at him, but didn’t say a word. Her hand clasped a mug of beer. A bowl of half-eaten peanuts was in the middle with broken peanut shells littered around it.
Rao reached for one.
“Get your own,” Anusha snapped.
“And this is the reason why you are always sitting alone,” Rao responded.
She glared and crushed a peanut shell.
My-re then walked past the table.
“Another mushroom mead and one for my friend,” Rao said as he pointed his glass towards Anusha.
Rao slowly churned the remaining liquid in his glass and watched Anusha’s distorted form through it. She had gone back to crushing peanuts in her hand and angrily eating the contents.
My-re returned with twin mushroom meads. “One silver.” She sat it in from of him, then sat the other next to Anusha and said to her, “That’s two silvers for you.”
“I think you meant two silvers in total?” Rao said.
“Is the word stupid written on my roll-up sheet? It’s one for you and two for her. We don’t tolerate down challengers in this tavern.”
Rao took out one coin and was about to protest, but Anusha held up her hand and produced two silver.
My-re retrieved the coins and left.
They sat at the table in silence for several heartbeats. Rao opened his mouth.
Anusha grumbled, “It was my first fight on the Isle of the Eye. It was a blind challenge. I didn’t know my recognition ranking. How’d I know it’d be a down challenge? I can’t believe they kept mentioning it over and over in the newsletter.”
“Well, I’m sure Lyon Bear of the Commodores stable’s manager will understand that—“
Anusha cut him off. “Shut it. I’m not asking for pity.”
“Not pity, but misery does love company. The same thing happened to me on my first fight here. Cheers!” Rao said.
Shrugging her shoulders, her body seemed to relax at his revelation. Anusha took a large gulp of the mushroom mead. Her eyes went wide and started coughing. Recovering from the fit after a moment, she stammered, “What in the nine hells? This tastes like I just drank peat moss off of oak wood!”
“Ah, yes. It does have a refined taste.”