“I don’t know what I’m doing,” My-re mumbled to herself as she sat at the bar of the Broken Sword Tavern prior to opening for the evening’s customers. The strong smell of roasted nuts, fresh baking bread, and yeast from the latest brew waffled through the area.
“You’ve been working here over a year, what do you mean you don’t know what you’re doing?” General Pol said as he approached and placed a large tray of clean tankards next to her.
My-re looked away and began to hang the mugs over the bar. Grabbing two, she missed and her right knuckles struck the side of one of them. She instantly pulled back as a stinging pain raced to her brain.
Pol snorted as his eyes went to her bandaged hand and back to her. “That’ll teach you to punch someone in armor.”
My-re’s eyes narrowed at the Rirorni general. “It also helps when your weapon isn’t in two pieces on the sands.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not thinking about taking up Lady Greywand’s offer to look for her missing fire-breathing lizard?”
“No,” scoffed My-re. “If the dragon has gone missing, it’s likely it wants to stay ‘missing’.”
“Good.”
“What do you mean good?”
“Good as in it’s a fool’s errand to go searching for a dragon and you don’t seem like a fool to me,” Pol said then added. “Besides, you’re my best employee.”
“A compliment from a Rirorni?”
“I was about to say, you’re the only one able to keep the Shews buying and out of any brawls. Bad for business and besides I’d never get a gold piece out of them for any damages,” Pol added.
“And I thought you might have a soft side behind all those scars,” My-re said and continued to put up the steins quietly.
My-re could feel him watch her. She stopped after she felt like Pol had stared long enough. “What?”
“For the past two weeks you haven’t been yourself. No snarky comments, no quick retorts, you’ve actually been showing up to work on time.”
“You’re complaining?”
“This isn’t you. What’s going on? Is there a man you like?”
“No!”
“Is there a woman you like?”
“What? No, eww!”
Pol shook his head and crossed his arms and waited?
My-re continued her work and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He continued to wait and occasionally shift from one foot to another. “Are you going to stop?”
“Nope. What’s going on?”
“There’s nothing left for me to learn,” My-re said.
“What do you mean? You have a lot to learn. Running a tavern is a lot like a fine woman. You treat her right, spend gold on her, and in return she’ll give you hea —“
“And I’m going to stop you there.” My-re interrupted. “No, in the arena. I learn my last riposte technique, which I have to say probably wouldn’t have happened if my weapon hadn’t broken.”
“By the nine hells, is that it? That is just the beginning of your training. You have the basics down, now comes the hard part of growing stronger, tougher, and faster,” Pol said.
“And smarter.”
“Sure, that too,” Pol said.
My-re thumbed through a nearby book Pol typically read when things were slow. The letters looked like spidery lines to her. She knew how to speak Rathiri, the Rirorni native language and the local Alastaria dialects. However, growing up a slave in the Rirorni Empire didn’t allow the luxury of learning to read or write.
The doors to the tavern opened and the first customers began to arrive.
General Pol clasped his hands together in excitement at the sight of paying customers. Glancing her way, Pol said, “Tonight is a time for celebration for the greatest pinnacle of glorious battle awaits thee, my lady! Drinks are on the house for you. No need to pay.”
“Unfortunately, my knuckles are paying the price,” My-re said then saw the warrior she fought last turn known as Expensive Kind of the Pill-Box Hat stable. He walked in with a couple of his stable mates. He was holding his head up and dabbing his nose with a cloth spotted red with blood. It seems he was also paying the price. “On second thought, Expensive Kind’s drinks are on the house. I owe him.”