The Chronicles of Krarshe: The Hearts of Men, Volume 1
Chapter 12

The tavern streets of Feyfaire were at the height of their rowdiness by the time Krarshe had returned from Ironpole. He did his best to avoid the busier streets, not having the energy to evade a brawl if one erupted outside a tavern. The ruckus of drinkers was all a vague din as he staggered through the uneven pavement, exhausted from his day’s travels. Despite his usual appetite, he just wanted to get back to the Easy Lute and sleep.

“Finally...” he muttered to himself as he neared his inn. He noticed it seemed quieter than it had been in some time. Must be even later than I realized.

As he nearly stumbled through the doorway, he was met immediately by Na’kika’s smiling face. “Oh, hi Na’kika. I won’t be need-”

She cut him off, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to an empty table right in front of the usual musicians, completely ignoring him. She pulled out a chair and gestured to it.

“N-no, really. I just-”

“C’mon, lad. She’s been-a waitin’ fer yeh,” the dwarf harpist said.

Krarshe looked back at Na’kika, still smiling widely and gesturing to the chair. He sighed. “Okay.”

He sat down, nearly collapsing into the chair as his legs gave out, now given true reprieve from his journey. Na’kika pulled a neighboring chair up next to him and sat down, shoulder to shoulder. Witnessing this, Krarshe looked around, confused.

“She requested the rest of the night off. It’s fine,” Valerie said, passing by with a tray of mugs.

She’s always quick with the follow-up, isn’t she?

The dwarf cleared his throat, and strummed his harp quickly, getting everyone’s attention. “Enjoy this one, lad,” he said, giving Krarshe a sideways look and smiling. “There be tales of gods beatin’ back the demons, of heroes slayin’ fiercest of dragons, of boys bein’ made inta great generals. But-” he strummed his harp again, “there be but ONE of emperors...” A couple of patrons behind Krarshe whistled and cheered excitedly. “An’ so, as thanks, ta the lad ‘ere, an’ thanks ta mah great friends ‘ere at The Easy Lute, I present ta yeh... straight from the halls of nobles an’ royalty... A Farewell ta Lords!” he said, with incredible bravado and a final thrum of his harp strings, and was met with more applause and cheering.

Oh boy... What is happening here... Krarshe sighed. He looked over to Na’kika. She was clapping as enthusiastically as anyone in the audience. Krarshe looked behind him and noticed only a few patrons. This performance seemed a bit excessive for this number of people. “Na’kika,” Krarshe whispered in her ear. “What’s going on?”

She gestured to the musicians, as they began to somewhat clumsily establish the rhythm, and then gestured to Krarshe. After pausing for a moment, she clarified again by pointing to his black eye.

“Burmir already said it, right?” Valerie asked, startling Krarshe. She placed a bowl of fish stew in front of him. “It’s as thanks.”

Krarshe looked down at the stew. He could smell the savory aroma. It dawned on him how often he must order fish dishes that she was able to bring it out without asking his order. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“Tell that to her,” she said, pointing to Na’kika.

Na’kika smiled enough to show her fangs, tail whipping around cheerfully. This might have been the happiest he’d ever seen her.

Their attention was pulled back by the deep, booming voice of Burmir, the harpist. Over the next hour or two, the audience listened to the tale of Armia’s first emperor, Eduzin Arubas. The multi-part hymn told of how this mage-emperor came from the seas to the east, wearing his unique crown of Sagesteel, his immense magic brought the wild tribes and warring kingdoms of Armia to heel. It told of how his governance led the land into a time of great prosperity, how his might protected the empire from foreign invasion and monsters, and how his compassion unified the empire and earned him the love of his people.

Periodically, Giselle or Henry would interrupt the hymn and sing about a related story pertaining to the part of the tale Burmir was telling. Initially, Krarshe thought this was out of line, but after the third time it happened, he realized this was part of the performance. Whenever they would interject, he noticed Burmir would flex his fingers a bit and take a drink from a mug beside him. It was an opportunity to give him a break without disrupting the performance.

The story continued, telling of his exciting battle against the dark elves of the Black Swallow Hills to the southeast, bringing the patrons to the edge of their seat with anticipation. The audience laughed as Henry told of how Eduzin accidentally created the lake Hiadza Mazu’e, and they cried when Giselle sang of how grieved he was when he lost his teacher. The musical notes and tones of their voices told Krarshe far in advance of the story what kind of emotion the scene would evoke.

As the song wound down, the music slowed and Burmir’s singing became more sullen. The room grew silent as he sang of the first emperor’s sudden death, and the immense loss the empire experienced with his passing. The hymn concluded with saying farewell, and how there will never be a lord that can rival him until he awakens from his eternal slumber.

After striking a dour tune on his harp, the three musicians put down their instruments and bowed to the crowd. Slowly, the small audience began to clap. Krarshe noticed the staff had come out from the kitchen to partake of the performance and were joining in the applause. Krarshe began to gently clap as well, not wanting to reinjure his hand.

Though he wished he could have gone to bed, the hymn was a marvel, beyond anything he had encountered in his travels. But, as great as it was, Krarshe was uneasy. His actions the night before weren’t with the intent of reward. And, really, he had only been beaten, causing trouble for the whole inn. He didn’t feel deserving of this.

“Thank you all for persevering through this long, long performance,” the innkeeper said, coming out in front of the small stage. “We appreciate you all staying for our farewell performance for Burmir.”

“And our ‘thank you’ for our resident hero!” Valerie added from the back of the room. Several staff members laughed as Krarshe could feel his face redden.

“Ha-ha! Yes, indeed! I bid you all a pleasant rest of your stay!” the innkeeper concluded, bowing to the customers.

Looks like the performance is over. I didn’t realize the harpist was leaving... Well. At least I can go to bed now. Krarshe began to get up, but was promptly yanked back into his seat by Na’kika. She shook her head and held up her index finger.

Slowly, the patrons of the inn made their way to the stairs and left the dining hall. The innkeeper walked over to the front door, shuttered the windows, locked the door, and returned to the kitchen.

Valerie pulled up a chair and sat next to Krarshe. “So, what’d you think?”

“It was quite a performance. And fairly educational,” Krarshe said.

“For as much truth as it had,” commented Henry, also dragging a chair to Krarshe’s table.

“I don’t know. I think every story has at least a kernel of truth,” Giselle said, following Henry’s example and bringing a chair over.

Wait, what’s happening here? Why is everyone coming to MY table? “Umm... Well, I should head to bed...”

“What?! Nonsense!” Burmir exclaimed, clomping his mug on the table as he plopped onto the stool he had brought over from the stage. “Ye’ll be-a drinkin’ with us t’night, lad!”

“Wait, what?” Krarshe went to stand up in protest, but was held down by Na’kika, clutching his upper arm tightly with a wide, toothy grin.

“I can’t let the man who saved one of my staff leave without his reward, now can I?” the innkeeper said, slamming a rather large jug of liquid on the center of the now-crowded table and pulling up a chair to sit next to Burmir.

“Ooh! What’s that? Don’t seem like the usual ale yeh typically drink around ’ere!”

“It’s a rum I got off some traveller some time back,” the innkeeper explained. “Traded it to me for a week’s stay when he found his way into Remonnet without a copper rose to his name! Hahaha!”

“Yeh are quite the haggler, William! This must be least a golden rose!”

“I doubt it. Maybe fetch fifty silvers.”

“Are yeh daft? Rum’s been harder ta replace than mead! And I should know! Haahaa,” Burmir laughed, slapping the round table hard enough to almost knock it over.

“Can we stop talking about how much tonight would have cost and just get to drinking?” Valerie interrupted.

“Indeed!” said a man Krarshe didn’t recognize. He set down a bunch of mugs for everyone. He pulled up a chair backwards to the table and sat on it, chest leaning against the back of the chair. “Name’s Julien. How was the stew?” he asked, reaching out an open hand toward Krarshe.

Krarshe shook his hand carefully. “Fantastic, as always. I assume you’re the chef.”

“For the last eleven years.” He smiled. He stroked the edges of his goatee with his forefinger and thumb. “You don’t look like the type who’d put a big, burly adventurer on his ass.”

“Uhh. Yeah, I’m not usually the type to do something like that...”

“Hear that, Na’kika? Only for you,” Valerie joked.

Na’kika blushed and turned away, playing with her ear, clearly flustered.

“Oh Val, don’t tease the poor girl,” Giselle scolded.

“Least not before we all get some drinks in us! Haahaa!” Burmir laughed.

“Agreed!” William said, popping the top off the large jug and pouring the golden-brown liquor into the mugs on the table. He picked up the mug in front of him and raised it. “To Burmir’s outstanding performances, and to Karsh’s bravery!” he shouted.

Everyone grabbed their mug and followed suit, raising them. Krarshe awkwardly raised his slowly. Once William drank from his mug, everyone else did the same. Krarshe took a short sip, not sure what to expect. To his surprise, it was sweet. Much sweeter than the ale he’d grown accustomed to.

“Ahh! Goes down easy, eh? Haahaa!” Burmir slammed his empty mug on the table and leaned in toward Krarshe. “Now. Where’s our little ‘hero’ from? Ain’t seen a long-ears since... Oh, at least since I settled in Remonnet.”

“I’m from the north. Outside of Armia.” This line was beginning to feel very rehearsed.

“Foreigner, eh? Can’t say I know much ’bout places past Dher Molduhr.”

“It’s a pretty small country. I’d be surprised if anyone knew of it.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that! William, you were an adventurin’ type. You been north-a Armia?”

“You were an adventurer?” asked Valerie. “Never would have guessed.”

“That’s ancient history,” said William dismissively.

“Hey!” exclaimed Giselle. “Mind your words!”

“Did I strike a sore point?” asked Valerie.

“Ah, no, no. Giselle ’ere’s the reason William quit. Back when his wife got pregnant with the lass ’ere.”

“There was more than just that,” William interjected, rubbing his brow. “I don’t really want to get into it.”

“That’s a first. You usually like regaling us with stories of your former glory,” commented Giselle sharply, a hint of annoyance lingering in her voice.

“Yeah, like the time you single-handedly fought off those dire wolves, saving those farmers,” said Henry.

“Or the time yeh beat those thieves.”

“Or when you slew that dragon!”

“I never did that, Julien.”

“I know. Just wanted to add something exciting,” Julien laughed.

The whole table laughed along with Julien as they continued to drink their rum. For the next hour, everyone continued to drink and talk, telling stories or asking questions of Krarshe or Burmir. Aside from the occasional question, Krarshe sat there quietly, sipping his rum. He generally didn’t like being the center of attention, and it made him nervous. As the night progressed, the alcohol began to affect everyone more and more. People were beginning to slur their words. Henry and Giselle were slowly pulling their chairs away from the table a bit, making more room for cuddling and flirting. Julien did as Krarshe had wished he could, leaving the table before the rum affected his mind.

“And THAT,” William said as he wobbled a bit, attempting to point a finger at his fellow drinkers, “ish hhhow you... gotta fight *burp* dire wolves.” He laid his head against the table. Krarshe watched him, wondering if he’d pick his head up again. After a moment, he could hear quiet, muffled snoring.

“... What was he even talking about? You can’t start your story with a statement like that and then fall asleep,” Krarshe said.

“Lad, it don’t matter. Let ‘im think he’s a great storyteller.” Burmir took another drink before pouring more rum into his mug. “Yer holdin’ yer liquor well, lad. Yeh part dwarf? Haahaa!” He patted Krarshe heavily on the shoulder, sending a shock of pain through his ribs.

“No, I’m just a careful drinker,” he said, sipping his rum again.

“Aww. That’s no fun, lad! ‘ere, drink!” Burmir poured more rum into Krarshe’s mug, causing it to overflow onto the table a bit. “Oops! Well... The rum might be affectin’ me a tad bit. Haahaa.”

“So, a harpist. Didn’t expect a dwarf to be fond of such an instrument,” Krarshe said, sipping the rum from the rim of his mug so it wouldn’t spill more.

“Ah? Harps be the pride an’ joy of Dher Molduhr! All the instruments we make, actually! Yeh never see a dwarf carryin’ such a sad instrument as that one Giselle uses. What’s it called... Oy, Giselle! Wha’s that thin’ yeh play?”

Both Krarshe and Burmir turned to where Giselle sat, but neither she nor Henry were still at the table. When they left, Krarshe had no idea.

“Ah. Not import’nt. *burp* Fact is, lad, we dwarves love our instruments. All them humans talk ’bout is our weapons, but ask a dwarf, a well-crafted harp is a true treasure.”

“Dwwwwarffffen weaponsssssare, mmmmmmm, reeeeeelly guuud!” William shouted, startling everyone left at the table. After his outburst, he promptly fell asleep on the table again.

“Heh, this lightweight. Shockin’ from a former adventurer, eh lad? Ahh... I’ll be-a missin’ this place. Always liked quiet taverns or inns more ’n them noble halls.”

“Really?”

“Aye. Bunch-a frilly-collars, they are. Just sittin’ there, quietly appreciatin’ the music. Real dull.” Burmir took a drink of his rum, some of it trickling down the sides of his bushy beard. “Ahh! Well... They’re good fer good coin, at least, eh? Haahaa!” He took another drink. “These taverns, though. The crowd cheers. They’ll stomp an’ clap along with-a tune. They sing along, or try ta. Fer a musician, fer a performer, nothin’s better ’n that. I’s the energy. Remin’s me-a home...” Burmir went silent for a moment, eyeing his rum, then quietly added, “What I wouldn’t do fer some mead ’bout now.”

Krarshe watched him quietly. His eyebrow braids were short, hanging down just to his cheek bones. The few dwarves he’d met in his travels would regularly have them down at least mid-chest by his age, so it struck him as odd.

As Krarshe was about to inquire about his brow braids, Burmir spoke up again, cheerful once more. “So, lad. What’s yer homeland like?”

“Hmm?”

“Yeh said yer from north-a Armia. Wha’s it like?”

“Oh... Umm... Pretty quiet, I guess.” Krarshe sipped delicately from his mug. The flavor of the rum was starting to grow on him, and he noticed the pain in his ribs and cheek had vanished.

“Wha’s that suppos-ta mean? Haahaa! Yeh live in a forest, I reckon?”

“No, it- Well, I guess it is fairly forested. But it’s in the mountains.”

“Elves livin’ in mountains, eh? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re mountain folk?” Valerie jumped into the conversation. It was clear the alcohol was beginning to affect her. “Never would-a guesshed.”

Krarshe laughed. “I know, it’s a bit odd.” His mind drifted back to home. The memory was still vivid, as though the past few years away had been but a day. “It’s beautiful, though. The sight of the sun setting between the distant mountains, casting their shadows over the forested valley below. During the flowering season, the smells from the blooms below are carried upon the wind. And the harvest season, the valley is painted red and gold.” He sighed.

“Shounds lovely, I’d love ta shee it. Right, Na’kika?”

Na’kika stopped drinking for a moment to nod vigorously. When she stopped, she blinked a few times, head wobbling slightly. She gripped the table in an attempt to stabilize herself.

“Don’t drink too fassht. Jusss learn from me,” said Valerie, gesturing to herself boldly as she, too, wobbled slightly. Krarshe and Burmir exchanged glances and laughed.

Another hour of drinking, or what Krarshe thought was another hour, and even he and Burmir were also beginning to be affected by the rum. Krarshe was having a hard time keeping track of what the dwarf was discussing, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of his own drunkenness or Burmir’s. It was apparent that Na’kika was being drastically affected, continuously rubbing her head on Krarshe’s shoulder.

“The mountinshhh of Dehrrr... Dehr Moldr. They’re reeeeeally lovely thish timea yearrr, you knoooow? Yeh sssshud shee ’em, lad!”

Krarshe just nodded. His head was beginning to swim.

*hic*

Krarshe heard a hiccup to his side. He turned to see Na’kika sitting hunched forward against the table. Her lips wrapped themselves around the edge of her mug as she sipped at the bronze liquid without the assistance of her hands. Her eyes were intently fixed on the rum. She hiccuped again, bumping the mug and spilling some rum onto the table. It dribbled down toward William, soaking into the sleeve of his shirt.

“Lookshh like-a weeeeeee lasssssh ‘ere’sa haffin’ trouble holdin’ ’er rum.”

She turned slightly to look at Burmir and Krarshe without lifting her face from the mug. Her face reddened as she pulled down on her ears with her hands, as if it’d hide her face.

“Shooo cute.” Krarshe didn’t initially realize that he had let his thoughts slip. He straightened up and looked at his mug. “D-did... I... just say that aloud? I think... I had too much to drink.”

“Haahaa! Naw, lad. Drink sshome more!” Burmir said, pouring him more rum.

How much rum is in that jug?! Krarshe wondered with a flash of clarity.

“Issh not fair! O’ly payin’ ’ttention ta Na’ki*hic*kika!” Valerie said, throwing an arm around Krarshe. “Look ’ere, Kaarssssssh.” She looked straight at his face, struggling to keep her head steady.

After a minute or so passed, Valerie continued. “Why’sh it I can’t replace myshelf a nishe man? Why can’t I... replace a good ’un? I’m pretty... right Kaaaarshhh??”

“Y-yeahh.” Krarshe was beginning to struggle to formulate his thoughts.

“Exxxxxactly! But only assssshhholes try ta... Try ta......... Aaand anotthhher thing! ... Why’re you sho q-quiet, Kaa... Karr.......” Valerie stared at him blankly for a few seconds, wobbling as she tried to wrap her muddled mind around the pronunciation of his name. “Kash!” she finally exclaimed, pointing an uneasy finger at the young elf. “Why you... why you sho quiet? Kash. Kassh... You... You are... a nisshe pershon. You know that? You know that, Kaa- Karsh?”

“You’re nice too, Val. Youuu’ll replace shomeone.”

“You’re sho nisshe... Karsh. Here!” Valerie thrust her mug in front of him. “You can... have dish. Ash a pre-... Pre-... A giffft.”

Krarshe looked down at the mug. The rum sloshed around as Valerie wobbled, struggling to stay steady. “Thanksh.”

“We’re friendsh! That... ish what friendsh do.” She swayed a bit before falling against Krarshe shoulder. “Mmm... You shmell nissshe. Mmm...” She rested against Krarshe for a minute before jolting upright. “Ah! Yer shhoooo shneaky, Karssh! Hmm... But maaaay*hic*be.” She studied Krarshe up and down, then leaned against his shoulder again and whispered in his ear. “You wanna play adult shhings...?”

Krarshe recoiled in surprise as Valerie sat back in her chair again, giggling. She took another large drink from her mug, the one she had just offered to him. Krarshe watched as she guzzled large amounts of rum, her throat twitching with each gulp. His gaze slowly drifted to her dark brown hair resting on her shoulder. From there, it shifted uncontrollably to her breasts, the tantalizing cleavage on full display as she drank. The coupling of this sight and the words she had given to his ears only, aided by the alcohol, gave rise to a sudden urge within him. The strength of this compulsion was unsettling.

I- Wow, this loss of... control. I hafta be careful of liquor. I can’t even... think clearly. Krarshe struggled to regain control of his mind and body.

“Hee hee! Shee! I aaaam pretty!” Valerie said, smiling coquettishly. “Buuut nope!” She pulled away from Krarshe, covering up her exposed upper chest. “I shee yer claimed aalready. Heeheehee.”

“... Huh?” Krarshe asked. He could feel someone clinging to his waist, and something laying on his lap. He looked down to see Na’kika draped across his thighs, arms wrapped around him, sleeping quietly.

“Lemme play *burp* shometing!” Burmir hollered, grabbing his harp again, distracting Krarshe from his lustful urges. “Now......... Lemme sheee...” He plucked one harp string. Then another. And another. He began plucking them in a sequence, unevenly and scattered. Krarshe couldn’t tell if he was trying to play a song or just plucking random strings. Burmir continued to pluck aimlessly, as the stray notes mixed with William’s snoring and Valerie’s drunken clapping and cheering.

Krarshe found himself beginning to clap, no longer in control of his body. Without another option, he gave in, going along with the jovial atmosphere, enjoying camaraderie like he had never before experienced. As his mind slipped further from conscious thought, the revelry carried on into the comforting, welcoming night.