The tavern is busier than usual thanks to the Solstice Festival. Travelers from all across Sylzaria migrate to Allendar to sample the delicious foods and drinks at the bazaar. Even folks from beyond the borders visit, searching for unique relics or interesting knick knacks. A seemingly endless amount of vendors set up shop on the roadside, in the town square, and even in the parks. Those looking to escape the summer sun find themselves in one of Allendar’s many taverns and bars. If they stumble into Dawn’s Tankard, and if they have the coin, then I will give them their tankard of drink.
Most patrons arrive in groups, some large and others small. Most are casual folk, but some come donned in armor. Perhaps one day, once I’ve saved enough from tending the bar, I will have enough money to buy some armor of my own. In the meantime, between taking money and filling tankards, I steal glances at a middle-aged man with graying red hair covered in some sort of black steel. What I wouldn’t give for something as beautiful as that! One day, I remind myself, once I’ve slung enough drinks and maybe swiped a haughty coinpurse.
“Another, boy!” the man calls from the end of the bar.
Picking up a jug, I hurry over to him. He slides a silver coin across the bartop as I fill his cup. He keeps his eyes down, either tired or sullen, and offers a grunt of thanks when I finish. On his breastplate is a worn sigil, a crimson etching of some horned beast. Folks like him make me wonder what stories they have to tell, and if they would even be willing to tell them. Perhaps when they’re one drink too far gone, their tongues would become looser. If the tavern dies down a bit in a while, and if the armored man is still sipping away his sorrows, I might have to indulge my curiosity.
“Barkeep!” a young woman calls from the other end of the bar.
Two dark-skinned figures wait there, watching me. While the young man with her is tall and lanky, she is shorter by a head. They both offer happy and excited grins, but hers shines brighter. The ringlets of her black hair hang loose around her smiling cheeks.
Kym and Max Rudge, my two best friends in the whole wide world.
My heart soars at the sight of them. Had it really been three months already? I could have sworn I still had a day or two before they arrived. A welcome happy surprise, I guess.
“Happy Birthday,” I smile to the twins.
Continue to “Rokkoh and the Old Woman”
Tyler Gohde 
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