The following fortnight…
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” My‑re mumbled. She sat at the bar of the Broken Sword tavern before opening for the evening’s customers. The smell of roasted nuts, fresh baking bread, and yeast from the latest brew wafted through the area.
Pol scoffed as he approached, placing a large tray of clean tankards beside her. “To let you in on a secret. None of us know what we are doing. Take me for example…”
My‑re tuned out the Rirorni as she hung the mugs over the bar.
“Wait a minute. You’re not considering taking up Lady Greywand’s offer to look for her missing fire-breathing gecko?”
“No,” scoffed My‑re. “If the dragon has gone missing, something likely made it that way. Something I don’t want to mess with.”
“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 drinks and out of 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 watching her. She stopped after she thought Pol had stared long enough. “What?”
“For the past two weeks, you haven’t been yourself. No snarky comments, no quick retorts. You’ve 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.”
“Well, is there a woman you like?”
“What? No.”
Pol shook his head, 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 a hand-”
“And I’m going to stop you there.” My‑re interrupted. “No, in the arena. I learned all the skill techniques, even riposte.”
“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 Alastarian dialects. However, growing up a slave in the Rirorni Empire didn’t allow the luxury of learning to read or write their language.
The doors to the tavern opened, and the first customers arrived.
General Pol clasped his hands together excitedly at the sight of paying customers. Glancing her way, Pol said, “Tonight is a time for celebration, for you are now a heroine, and the greatest pinnacle of glorious battle awaits thee, my lady. So, one drink is on the house for you. No need to try and pay.”