Master's Journey: Stranger in the Stacks #9 (Patreon)

Author's Note: No real notes but hey, more!

[story]

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‭You take note of your options, and come to a few quick decisions. Giving K’vin an idle elbow to the side, you glance up at them, “Thanks for the heads-up. I gotta go talk to some people, so I guess this is where we part ways for the moment.”

“As it is,” they nod, then shrug. “But I shall remain for some time, should you require any further aid. I am always content to help another stranger.”

“Good to know,” you smile back, then skip over to the bar, getting a better look at the human man behind it. He’s barrel-chested and shorter than average, sporting a close-cut of auburn hair and well-kept beard that was flecked through with silver. Colored tattoos crawl up and down his arms, their designs difficult to make out through the hair, though you see one with the distinct shape of a sea serpent. Very different from the ink you yourself sport.

“What’ll it be, then?” his voice is a low rumble, though his accent is much more familiar to you than K’vin’s.

“I got…” you fish around for that little wallet, and drop it on the counter in front of you. “Nine sems. What’ll that get me in the way of a meal and a couple shots?”

“All on the table, eh? Got your priorities straight, I see,” he let out a short chuckle, reaching to the shelf behind him and pouring a shot of caramel-colored liquid, sliding it across the bar towards you. “That one’s on me. I’ll get some food over for ya soon. But I gotta wonder… what’s a low elf with nine sems in her pocket think she’s gonna do in the Stacks?”

“That’s actually something I was hoping to have a little chat with you about, lovesome,” you smirk, taking the shot and pounding it back in one swig. It’s strong, but nowhere near the strongest you’ve had – spending most of your life around traveling carnivals and other low elves, you’ve seen some wild shit. Taste isn’t bad, though. You set the empty shot glass back down with neither wince nor hiss. “I need work, as soon as I can get it. I can work as a waitress, if you want. Or, ah… y’know. I’ve got other skills, yeah? And I’m not too shy, either.”

The innkeep glances over your slender shoulder, towards the oran barmaid, and then looks back at you. “Already have a server. Though perhaps I could take you on part-time to give poor Meda a break. As for your other skills…” his eyes narrow at you, and you get the impression that he either knows what you mean, or is on the right track. “I run a tight establishment, all by the book and whatnot, nothin’ that might get the badgies on my arse. But….”

“...Assuming I can keep the badgies from goin’ prickly…?”

“...We might have some business. Just keep things quiet. I take my cut and stay out of it, and if I hear even a whisper of what’s goin’ on, you’re out. We crisp?”

“Yeah, we’re crisp,” you offer a nod back, fishing out your little square coins and pushing them across the bar to him. “If this can get me a room for the night, that’d be appreciated too. Be nice to lay on an actual bed.”

“Been on the road, then?”

“In a cell. Got out today.”

The innkeep quickly turns away, pouring a drink for another customer before returning his attention to you. “Didn’t know people left Vauntreux prisons. Always figured the badgies threw the key in with anyone unlucky enough to end up in that hole.”

“Paperwork got swirled, not that they had a good reason for keeping me anyway.” You shrug, then extend a hand. “Name’s Iris, by the by.”

He shakes your hand in one of his own mitts, scooping up your sems with the other. “Duggan. The oran’s Meda – she’s friendly but not terribly bright. I’ll get you a room key and let you stay here as long as you’re workin’… and assuming you don’t bring any heat down on the Lantern, of course.”

“Of course. Really crispy-like, as we said.”

Duggan pours you another shot and slips away, after that. He returns after several minutes, sliding a slim bronze room key your way, along with a plate of food he describes only with a grunt of “Tonight’s special.” You take a hard look at it, then a little sniff. You’re hungry enough to eat just about anything at this point, but nonetheless, you can’t help but find this pretty odd. Its base is a bed of thin, squiggly noodles that are nearly transparent, topped with a fragrant, yellowish sauce that gives you floral, spicy vibes. Long shreds of slow-cooked meat remind you a bit of the grass-oxen you used to eat back home, but its a bit tougher and a little more gamey, crusted with salt and seasonings that actually end up giving it a very nice flavor. Furthermore, obscured by the sauce and mildly-flavored is some sort of vegetable, which provides bulk and crunch but little else.

Ultimately, you find yourself finishing the plate before you ever truly end up figuring out what it consisted of, and the full belly is more than worth your stretch of confusion. You take down the final shot of booze your nine sems bought you, and slip the key into your now-empty wallet. Yawning and stifling a belch, you take a brief glance around the Fat Lantern. The crowd’s starting to thin out as mealtime passes, and you find yourself wondering if you should head to your room, or spend to time schmoozing around and getting to know people.

K’vin’s still here, and seems to be enjoying quite a few more drinks than you did, and Meda appears to be taking a break. Duggan himself has shifted gears to start cleaning the glasses and bartops, and you notice the mysterious figure you’d clocked earlier has vanished. With an employer more or less cemented, you have a bit less freedom, but a lot more opportunities.