by Ramy Vance
The Mundanes, not knowing what else to do or where to go, made their way up to the human barkeep, who was bustling about, passing meads and ales out faster than Suzuki ever thought was possible. She looked sixty, but Suzuki suspected that she was probably in her forties and that living here gave her the “older than I am” aura. That and the fact that her arms were covered in scars and burns and her mousy brown eyes looked like stone…it was obvious she’d seen things.
Experienced things.
Suzuki wondered how long the MERCs had been recruiting people.
“Newbs, huh? Well, welcome to the Red Lion. My name’s Wendy, and I own this here establishment. Which means, I serve the drinks and you pay me. So what can I grab for you kids?” Wendy sang as she slammed down two huge ales.
“What’s the legal drinking age here again?” Stew asked.
“Probably whenever you’re old enough to know not to ask that at a bar.” She laughed.
Suzuki leaned over the counter and held up three fingers. “Could I get three…uh…meads?”
Sandy held up her finger. Her eyes darted around, and she nervously giggled. “Could I actually get a gin and tonic?”
“A gin and tonic,” the bartender repeated. “Looks like we got ourselves a real high-class MERC here, don’t we?”
A couple of MERCs sitting at the bar chuckled. One of them burst into uproarious laughter and slapped his hand on the bar. Sandy blushed brightly and looked down at the bar’s wood counter as she pushed the hair out of her face.
Stew leaned over and nudged Sandy’s elbow. “Sandy,” Stew whispered, “you are embarrassing us.”
“I don’t know what’s embarrassing about a gin and tonic.”
“Liquor is practically water compared to my mead. Made it myself,” Wendy explained as she poured three spittoons of mead and slammed them on the bar.
Sandy picked up one of the spittoons. She sipped the foamy head. “Jesus Christ on a fucking stick,” she exclaimed. “That shit is strong.”
“That’ll be fifteen coppers.”
“You mean we have to pay you?” Stew groaned.
“Yeah,” the bartender said as she took back the drinks. “I give you drinks. You give me money. That’s the way that it works. Just like every other bar in any realm.”
Suzuki tapped his armor. There wasn’t any space for a wallet. He wasn’t even sure if there would have been anything in it even if he had one. The Mundanes stood there awkwardly like a trio of children who got caught playing pretend in their parent’s clothes.
“They’re newbs,” a soft voice said.
Suzuki turned around, and another dwarf was standing behind him. This one wore glimmering armor with a golden fox crest on the chest piece; his shoulder blades were sharpened to a razor point. The dwarf’s beard was spindly and short, and it stopped at his chest.
He leaned on an ornate sword cane.
Wendy poured mead for the paying customers. “Everyone starts as a newb.”
The dwarf motioned to Wendy, who reached over and lowered a small, silver collection tin. Change jangled in the tin as the dwarf tossed in a few pieces of copper. “Come on, newbs,” the dwarf said as he gestured for them to follow him.
“Names Milos Winterfell.” The dwarf grunted as he took a seat at an empty table. He jerked his head at the empty seats. “Tonight’s your first night, aye?”
“Yeah,” Suzuki answered as he settled into his seat. The rest of the Mundanes sat down at the table and, one by one, took a sip of their meads.
Milos eyed the Mundanes as he drank his own, stroking his beard; his eyes glimmered like the pieces of copper he had tossed into the tray. “They ship you out and pay two days’ worth of board. You gotta get out there and start hustling as soon as you get here. Not the most inviting of situations, I gather.”
“It’s a little overwhelming,” Suzuki answered. “We’re not even sure how all of this is supposed to work. Is there a captain or general we can speak to? Someone who’s in charge or something.”
“In charge? Boy, I’ve been with the MERCs for years, and I still don’t know who’s in charge. You got your party, don’t you?”
“Yeah, we’re a party,” Sandy butted in.
“Then y’all know who’s in charge. ‘Sides, you can figure all that out tomorrow. You should at least celebrate for your first night.”
Stew took a huge gulp from his drink. His face flushed, and he belched loudly. “How are we supposed to party when we’re broke?”
Milos ran his fingers through his beard in a thoughtful motion. “That would be a problem, now wouldn’t it be? Well, I happen to have a solution if you’re interested. You see, my party and I split for a quest a few days ago, and they haven’t gotten back yet. But here I am with a night of drinking to accomplish. So how’s this for a deal? I need drinking buddies. You need drinks. We play a little game of cards and make a little wager. You win, I buy all of your drinks. You lose, I buy all your drinks, and you do me a favor.”
“Sounds good to—” Stew started saying.
“What kind of favor?” Sandy interrupted.
“Nothing weird. I don’t go into having humans get drunk for me to cover them in butter or anything like that. Just a solid favor between mates. MERCs don’t screw other MERCs.”
Suzuki shrugged and finished his pint. His face felt very warm and seemed to be made of a sticky substance. As Suzuki acknowledged to himself that this mead truly was strong shit, he felt Fred twisting in his mind.
“Hey, Fred,” Suzuki ventured. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
“There is nothing in existence which is good or bad,” Fred hissed. “That is a simple lesson that I have learned through my life. There is only experience—which you are all lacking. Now if you excuse me, I’d like to be left to my thoughts.”
There was a part of Suzuki that felt this was an obviously bad idea. But as Stew had said, they didn’t have any money for a celebration. They hadn’t even had money for a drink. And this seemed like the best way to come across some information. Manny had just dropped them off in the forest without a tent or even any supplies. This level of ignorance scared Suzuki. Talking to Milos would at least give them all a moment to get their bearings on what was going on.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll sit this one out and watch, but those two are free to do whatever they want,” Suzuki said as Stew and Sandy shot him bewildered looks.
Stew threw up his hands. “This one’s really into watching. Me, I like doing and doing and then doing some more.” He winked at Sandy, who just groaned as she rolled her eyes.
“Aye.” Milos smiled. “Just a game with an innocent bet between mates.”
“You know, your saying it again and again makes it sound suspicious. It’s not comforting at all. But yeah.”
“Aye, nothing quite as enjoyable as a friendly competition with a friendly little wager.”
“Yes, yes, yes. We got it. We agree.”
“Perfect.” Milos laughed as he whipped out a pack of cards. He shuffled the deck and dealt the cards.
Stew picked up one of the cards. “What are we playing?”
“Seven Dead Men and a Siren.”
“Uh, you in too, Suzuki?”
“Nah,” Suzuki muttered. “You guys have fun.”
Suzuki leaned back in his chair, feeling relaxed now that the mead had taken effect. He felt he could finally take in the whole scene.
When he had first stepped into the bar, it had all been too much for him, and he had mostly only noticed dwarves and humans.
Now he could really see what was going on in the bar. Besides dwarves and humans, the bar was packed with at least three other magical races.
A group of halflings was sitting closest to Suzuki’s table. They were drinking quietly until one of the halflings knocked over his mead. The halfling closed his eyes solemnly, took his hat off, and pressed it to his chest. Then he stood and climbed onto the table, his hairy feet knocking over a bowl of pretzels. The other
halflings pulled out small stringed instruments.
The halfling on the table cleared his throat, and an angelic falsetto rang out over the noise of the bar. The occupants of the tables nearby looked up from their drinks as the halfling began to sing loudly:
It is in bars and battles we find ourselves,
We drink to friends and fear and health,
The night has come, the Dark One gone,
To leave us to our somber song.
The halfling cast his eyes down sorrowfully, and when he looked back up, there were tears in his eyes. Across the bar, more halflings had climbed onto their table as well, covering their hearts with their hats as they joined in on the song.
Our beer, our beer, it has spilled this day,
Of all the days, it spilled today.
The song had lost its classical nature and had shifted to something more like a soccer chant as its pace quickened and they played their instruments more wildly. Within seconds the rest of the halflings started to dance, linking arms with each other, their eyes dancing as they kicked in unison.
All throughout the bar, the halflings climbed onto their tables, threw their arms in the air, and jigged away as the singers chanted. The rest of the bar had returned to their business.
Only the halflings danced, although many of the dwarves and humans swung their mugs back and forth to the tune.
Only the elves didn’t join in, their demeanor controlled and completely without mirth.
Milos motioned to one of the barmaids for more mead, and she came by and dropped the meads off at the table. Stew had buried his head in his hands and was pulling his hair, while Sandy peered down at her cards, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.
Suzuki reached for his mead as a pack of fairies lazily floated in front of his face, obviously drunk. They were about the size of his hands, and he could have reached out and caught them.
One of the fairies bumped into another, their bright, multicolored wings flashing brightly when they touched, and the collision caused their translucent bodies to shine in a way that allowed you to see their bones. The fairy who had been bumped into shone brighter than the rest as a jolt of pink lightning pulsed across its body.
The fairy screwed up its face as if in pain and then there was a loud pop and the fairy burst into the air, rainbow-colored gas shooting out of its ass. Shrill fairy laughter pierced the halfling’s chant as the tone of the song gradually descended back into a mournful lament for lost alcohol.
Suzuki couldn’t help but laugh as the rest of the fairies started farting and flying around like demented honeybees. The air took on the noticeable scent of cinnamon rolls.
His HUD pinged in his ear, and a notification flashed. He opened it. A message from Beth!
Suzuki turned away from the card game and opened the message to see Beth’s face staring back at him. Only her eyes didn’t focus on him, so he knew it was another recorded message.
Beth looked exhausted. No, that wasn’t right. She looked older than the last message she had sent. He wasn’t sure if it was in his head, but her eyes looked sunken. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as she yawned.
“Hey, Suzuki. I’ve been trying to send this off to you for a while. Sorry for the last message, but Manny told me I had to get really harsh on you. I told him it probably didn’t matter, but he was pretty adamant. Hopefully you’ve finished all the bullshit and are actually getting out in the field. I heard the MERCs don’t waste any time getting their people out there. I’m also assuming you all made it into the MERCs. I wasn’t even worried about you guys. You’re gonna have to tell me all about all the shit you guys get into. On my end, things have slowed down a lot. I guess we’re kind of stationed in the area at the moment to keep the troll situation from getting out of hand, but we haven’t seen any in a minute. Some of the guys are getting pretty antsy here. I’ve been making friends and shit. It’s funny, you’d think everyone would be a little more mature, but it’s like being back in high school. There’s this one really cute guy in my regiment—”
Suzuki’s heart jumped up into his throat, which clenched tightly and threatened to give him a heart attack.
“And, I mean, yeah, he’s cute and junk, but who isn’t a little cute? I showed some of the girls a picture of you, and they said you are a little cute yourself. Anyways, this guy asked me out, and I told him I wasn’t interested. No big deal. This kindergarten muthafucker then told everyone in my regiment that he saw me rolling in troll shit. Like, can you believe that bullshit? I had to royally kick his ass. Anyways…uh…what else…um, the commander is a real piece of work. And by piece of work, I mean a sadistic, disgusting bastard. I made sure not to get on his bad side. Last officer he had a problem with ended up losing a limb. So I’m playing it safe. There are rumors that the Dark One’s forces are gathering in Aleria. Which is weird, you know. It’s like Ellis Island, but there’s a creepy-ass castle there. Same exact place as Ellis Island. It’s been making traveling easier, the whole mirror realm thing going on. That’s what one of the mages told me it was called. Oh, shit, and you won’t believe what my fucking familiar did. Ros’ten literally jumped out of my body in the middle of a fucking firefight just because she thought she smelled honey. Turns out the mountain trolls we were hunting smell like honey when they start to decompose.”
“I like her familiar,” Fred growled. “Abandoning a human for a snack. Shows a proper order of priorities.”
“Shut up,” Suzuki snapped.
Beth took a deep breath and smiled before looking over her shoulder. She shouted something that Suzuki couldn’t make out. She turned back to the camera.
“All right, I gotta go. Tell those douche nozzles that I asked what’s up. Also, I know that it’s tough for you guys to message me with how tight-ass the military is. Hell, I need to get permission every time to send something out, too. But apparently, there are these workarounds. Not sure yet, but I’m hoping that pretty soon we’ll be able to talk more regularly. That would be good. Real good. I miss you. l…”
Beth’s voice trailed off as she muttered something. She looked troubled. When she looked back up at the camera, her bottom lip was slightly trembling.
“I miss you. A lot…”
The video cut out. Suzuki played the last bit of the video again. Beth had started saying something with an “L” before she caught herself. And she had been showing pictures of him to people in her regiment. Suzuki hadn’t even known Beth had a picture of him. He felt his throat unclench. His heart was pounding, but in a much different way than before. It made him want to get up and sing with the halflings, to grab a fiddle and start jigging as hard as he could. He felt as if he could run to Beth, wherever she was, right then, as if there were no space between them at all.
He was on Middang3ard. One step closer to bringing the party back together.
“Goddamn it,” Stew shouted. “Again?”
Suzuki was grounded back to reality. Across the table, Stew was throwing his cards onto the table, and Sandy had sunk down into her chair. Milos was smiling a wide, shit-eating grin as he shuffled his cards. A barmaid brought another round of drinks and put them down in front of the Mundanes and the dwarf.
“How’d you lose?” Suzuki asked.
Stew grabbed his mead and jugged half of it. “Don’t know,” Stew replied. “Don’t care.”
Sandy brushed her hair out of her face and grabbed the cards that Milos dealt her. “It’s just for a favor,” she reminded Suzuki before turning to glare at Milos.
Milos tossed Stew a couple of cards. “Wouldn’t even call it a favor,” he said. “It won’t be any skin off your teeth. Or back. Whatever you humans say.”
Suzuki laughed as he opened up a new text message from Beth.
“And don’t forget, Suzuki,” the message read, “you’re gonna have to jerry-rig it together. Find a chipmaster. They should be able to take care of it. It’s not gonna be cheap, but it’ll be worth it. Seriously, dude. Make sure to take care of it.”
Suzuki closed the message. He had no idea what Beth was talking about, but he figured he could just message her about it later. The card game on the table was starting to look a lot more interesting. Stew was cursing loudly, and Sandy had the drunk giggles. Someone had finally managed to get her a gin and tonic, which she was sipping along with her mead.
Across the bar, the halflings were getting another song started. More drinks were served. Suzuki and Stew were standing on the table, and he had no idea how he had gotten there.
Or at least Suzuki thought that he was on the table. There were halflings everywhere. Cards and pixies flew through the air as Suzuki, Stew, and Sandy slammed their tankards together, trying to muddle their way through the halfling drinking songs.
The whole bar was one loud, drunken singing mess. “This is fucking Middang3ard,” a group of dwarves and humans sang. “This is fucking Middang3ard, and the MERCs will take it for what it’s worth!”
The chant was sung throughout the night until the last drink was served, and the MERCs stumbled their way to their rooms.
Chapter Fifteen
Suzuki woke in an unfamiliar bed.
The sheets were rough and hardly covered his body. He sat up, his eyes searching the room, trying to make sense of where he was.
Stew was laying in the other bed in the room, and Sandy leaned against the foot of the same bed, passed out and snoring loudly.
Suzuki grabbed his head. He had a headache, and he groaned as he tried to gather his bearings.
This was Middang3ard, he reminded himself. Suzuki checked the window. He was still in a muddy marshland. It as most definitely still Middang3ard.
Suzuki turned around and froze.
There was a shadowy figure standing in the threshold of the doorway. Suzuki scanned the room for a weapon. Then he remembered where he was. He hit his HUD, and his armor rolled over his body. His sword and shield materialized in his hands.
The shadowy figure walked forward to the sound of clucking chickens. Once he entered the light, Suzuki could see that it was Milos, and he was holding two chickens.