Legend of Ransera

Early eve, 27th of Ash, 121

“Lieutenant, would it be wise to go there right now?” Franz said as he loads another barrel of supplies on the carriage. “You’ve heard the rumors right?”

“That’s why we’re not bringing the carriage. Need to check something out too. Franky must’ve heard something over there. Besides, when’s the last time they agreed to loan out the three-shot guns on such short notice.” Vincent lift his coat and showed the concealed guns.

“Who else is coming with us, sir?”

“Corporal Leon and seven other soldiers.”

“Won’t it be suspicious? A usual patrol is a group of fives.”

“But, we’re there to get a drink after a hard day of work right?”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Franz left to get the horses out of the stable.

“Lieutenant,” Leon saluted as he approach Vincent.

“Corporal, the men ready?”

“Sir, yes, sir. They’ve been briefed.”

The soldiers then mounted their horses and made their way to the East End. As they neared the edge of the East End, the group split into two. Vincent, Franz, and three other soldiers went ahead, while Leon and the rest will wait for a bit before following Vincent to the Hobbled Gobbler. Arriving at their usual spot near the Hobbled Gobbler, Vincent and the rest dismounted and waited for Leon and the rest.

Vincent took out a piece of cigarette and lit it. A few minutes later, Leon and the rest of the soldiers arrived.

“Corporal, you and Franz will be with me. The rest of you will be occupying the tables as close as possible to the front door. Keep your weapons concealed or sheathed, unless necessary. We will be entering first. Wait for a while before entering.”

The soldiers nodded. Franz pushed the wooden door. As soon as they get in, Franz and Leon began surveying the room while following Vincent to where Franky is.

“Mr. Franky, how you been doing? Got a new brew? They love the previous batch that you made.” Vincent chuckles followed by a sigh “It’s gonna be another sleepless night for me.” Vincent then survey the room, “Hmmm, what’s the occasion?” His eyes wandered around the room. The Hytori woman caught his attention.

“So, who’s the Hytori? A new face? Or one of the seasonal patron?” Vincent took out his box of cigarettes.

?? Ash 121

Yeva opened the tavern door, peeking inside with a smile before the rest of her followed, "Hellooo," she greeted, shutting the door behind her with one hand, the other desperately clutching a stack of books against her chest. Her faithful bag was slung across her chest, its flap peeled back as fresh herbs and wildflowers poked out from its pocket. She wore a green blouse tucked into linen overalls, patched at the knees. The cuffs of the pant legs were rolled up and her brown boots were well-loved, scuffing softly against the floor as she spotted an empty stool at the bar. It wasn't long before she saw the tavern owner himself, "You wouldn't happen to have any lemonade, would ya? Maybe with a teensy tiny kick?"

She wasn't sure if a drink like that was graced the presence of the Hobbled Gobbler, but would happily settle for a glass of water instead. Yeva hadn't been extraordinarily determined in her visit to the establishment, just wishing to get out and spend some time in the company of others, desiring to use it as a change of scenery. The redhead organized her books and pulled out a small blue notebook, the size of a man's hand, cracking the spine and dating the page. She unscrewed her inkpot and ran her fingers down the soft feather of her quill, laying out a little coin as payment for her drink. Then, she began to read, taking notes as she moved along the page.

Scrying comes from the word “descry” which means “to reveal”. The earliest known use of scrying is believed to have involved eggs that would be cracked open and their contents interpreted. While the execution of the practice varies, it crosses religious and cultural boundaries, appearing in ancient history practice as young boys would peer into vases filled with oil, gazing into a special spring to predict battle outcomes for their soldiers. Looking to the beyond for answers is a practice deeply ingrained in the mortal psyche and it continues on into the modern world.

The world fell away and the woman seemed to forget where she was, only drawn back from this sort of studious meditation when someone would laugh, or a chair would scape particularly loud as a patron pushed back and stood from their table. She glanced up now and again, making polite small talk with those that came and went from the bar, but largely, she kept to herself. The buzz of lunchtime came and went, Yeva offering the occasional passage out loud and to no one in particular, finding it more interesting than anything, "Did you know...?" she would begin, often ending in, "Isn't that fun?"

Once or twice, she stood, lacing her fingers together and pushing outwards in a stretch. She twisted, arching her back or yawning, and then would settle back into her spot and order another drink or a small snack to keep her going. And then, back into her focused trance, she went, her quill scratching itself down the page. Day turned into evening and she slid from her stool, "Restrooms are outside?" she pointed to the door, where she had seen others come and go. She glanced at the tavern room, knowing the hobgoblin and his assistant to be rather busy, but the current crowd didn't seem particularly shady. So close to the front of the room, it was unlikely anyone would try to steal her belongings "I'll be right back."

Yeva vanished into the alley and reappeared a few minutes later, drying her hands after washing her hands next door. Her things were as she left them, the room more populated than it had been before. The tables near the front door were filled, the space suddenly feeling a lot smaller. Outside, the sun had fallen. Had so much time passed? She blinked in surprise, deciding it was time to leave soon. She'd order one last drink and head out.

When she returned to her seat and began packing her things away, she looked for Franky and found him talking to a soldier. Once noticed, she seemed to realize just how many uniforms were present and her hands slowed. Was it... some sort of military night? Yeva tucked away from the sealed inkpot, feeling a pair of eyes watching. She stacked her books and reach into her pocket to touch the deck of cards inside.

It was another Tasting Night, one of Franky's favorites. He had the board up over the back of the bar, displaying the new dishes and drinks that were on sale, by fifty percent, on this night, with the agreement that detailed feedback must be given when asked. The board read,

Fungithal Burger
Stuffed Catfish

Goblin Ginger Beer
Dwarven Pale Ale
Vykuli Vanilla Vodka
Dalquian Merlot
Zaichaerita

Franky had the dishes prepped and readied in the back, and had the drinks parts readied up at the bar. It was going to be another good night, if the growing crowds were any indicator. He definitely needed to get more help though. It was becoming a bigger issue, especially since Franky was wanting to start expanding his interests.

He heard a familiar greeting, and looked up to see Yeva peeking in. He watched as she walked up, looking as though she were fresh from the garden, which perhaps she was. Just down the road at the nursery he guessed. Franky smiled broadly at her question, "I think I have something that might tickle your fancy, Yeva."

He fetched his cocktail mixer, dropping several chunks of ice into it. Grabbing the bowl of lemons he'd brought out, he set to work on the simple Zaichaerita. He added some simple syrup to the mix, and hand squeezed several lemons worth of juice into it. This was followed by the Clockwork Liqueur, adding some deep orange color to the mix, but just a touch. Finally, he added in a healthy touch of the typical Sol'valen tequila. He closed up the mixer and shook it vigorously. He set that to the side, and slipped into the back, grabbing a chilled, wide rimmed glass.

He brought it back out, setting it down on the bar. He cut a slice of lemon, and split it on the rim, then ran it around the circumference while giving a very gentle squeeze. Then he grabbed a small bowl of large flaked salt, and dipped the glass into it. When he pulled it out, the salt was stuck to the rim of the glass. Then he poured the cocktail into it and set it in front of Yeva. "Something I've been working on, the Zaichaerita." He told her the price, discounted for the tasting night. At her later question for the restrooms, he simply nodded.

He went back around to working the bar as the crowds picked up, until another familiar face stepped into the tavern, along with his friends. Soldiers, especially human ones, were not a common sight in here and Franky could feel the subtle shift in the room's nature. There were side eyes and voices began to speak more quietly.

Franky smiled at Vincent, cleaning a tray of flagons, "Hello, Vince. Busy as always. I hope you've been well." He then thumbed toward the Tasting Night board, "Plenty of new stuff I'm tryin', half off if you're willin to answer questions and give feedback." Then there was a jesting twinkle in his eye, repeating a line from when they'd first met, "Never off duty."

Franky chuckled, "Every night is an occasion here. It's just my tasting night, so people come for the cheap booze mostly, business has been very good these last couple seasons, can barely keep up."

At the mention of Yeva down the bar, Franky smiled, "She lives near here, so I suppose you could call her a regular. Good lass, helps out at the plant nursery down the road. Her name's Yeva, though perhaps you should ask that of her directly, if you're looking to get to know her better." The last bit was said in jest, for Franky had learned enough of Vincent to know he and his companions were constantly on the look out for pretty, young women.

"So what can I get y'all tonight?"

Leon moved closer as they entered the tavern. “Now I know what they feel like if they walked in on a tavern in the East End.”

Franz chuckled. “I’d be wary too if a group of soldiers visits my establishment at night.”

Franz and Leon tried their best to not draw attention to their concealed weapons and survey the room looking for any hostile stares.

“Half off? Well, that’s a steal, Mr. Franky. I’m guessing there’s something as wild and exotic as the Five Goblin Chili?” Vincent chuckled. “Never off duty. But they do allow the occasional breaks though, to keep morale high.” He laughed.

He took out a piece of cigarette and lit it. “Looks like we came at the right time. Will the half-off apply for bulk purchases?” He rotates the lit cigarette between his fingers. “Oh, it’s alright right?” he looked at Franky and gestures at his cigarette.

“Great to hear that Mr. Franky. Earn more spend more, business owners are happy, and the customers go home with a full stomach and happy heart, right?” Vincent replied tactfully. His intention was to get a general view of the current economic situation in the Knobs. If a business is booming that means the people are doing well for themselves. If the people are doing well for themselves it would mean less chance of a riot happening.

She works in the plant nursery huh? Interesting. It won’t hurt to make her acquaintance. He thought to himself. Though he hates to admit it he really is of his father’s blood, everyone is useful in their own ways, as his father used to say.

“Well Mr. Franky you know it, young at heart right?” he chuckled. “Can I order from the regular menu? Need something a bit filling since I’ll be trying out a flagon of each drink. Well maybe except for the Zaichaerita.” He chuckled “Sounds a bit too local. Unless they don’t taste as local as they sound then I’ll be ordering it too. Well then, I’ll be introducing myself to her.” He grinned.

He then made his way toward the table where the Hytori is sitting. He pulled the chair opposite of her and sat down. “Isn’t it a bit too noisy for that?” He gestured at the stacks of books. “I heard from Mr. Franky that you help at the plant nursery down the road. Interesting choice of profession you know.” He paused and fiddled with the half-burnt cigarette stuck between his fingers. “Oh, where's my manner. My name is Vincent. Nice to meet you.” He raises his hand for a handshake. “Been here often? Is that one of the drinks that Mr. Franky has listed up on the board?” his eyes wander from the tip of her head then down to her eyes. “My sister-in-law said that you could tell a lot about a person from their choice of food or beverages. Guess she has been spending quite a lot of time with that elderly regular of hers. She said that using cards or dice she could tell a person’s fate or something like that. The only fate tied to cards and dices that I’ve seen is in the gambling tables.” He chuckled.

Franky chuckled loudly, "I got a kitchen crew these days, so there's usually a lot of exotic things, but I decided to take something a country boy like you might know, and make it better." Franky was familiar with the Fungithal these days, remembering back when he learned about the creature that was common in the countryside cuisine but far less so in the city. "I'll recommend the Fungithal Burger." And then there was another chuckle, "There will certainly be a wholesale discount, but definitely not half off. That's offered up in exchange for immediate feedback from the customers, part of the deal. And while I have no doubts you boys would be able to drink all the barrels quickly, I question the ability to finish them all in this night."

There was a glint in Franky's eyes, "With all the barrels you lot buy, maybe you should just get into brewing yourself. Save some of that hard earned coin."

At the question about the regular menu, "Yeah, the regular stuff is on there, just may take a little longer since the kitchen will make it from scratch." A hearty belly laugh, "Ain't nothin' local about the Zaicherita, me and the crew came up with it."

Franky heard the order though, and set about to preparing the tray of drinks. Two flagons; one of the Goblin Ginger Beer, heavy on the root spice, plenty of bite, leaves most gasping; the other of Dwarvin Pale Ale, hoppy, tangy, and much stronger than it seems. A shot of the Vykuli Vanilla Vodka, smooth as the ice those barbarians like to lick. Then came a goblet of the Dalquian Merlot, made from grapes deep in that elvaan forest, and of course, the Zaichaerita.

Franky carried the tray down the bar, toward where Vincent was flirting with Yeva. He kept an eye on the pair as he set each of the six drinks in front of Vincent, and when there was a small lull in the conversation, "You decide on some food, Vincent?"

Franky's eyes were laughing even if the rest of his face wouldn't show it. Yeva went on the defensive about her divination, and Franky couldn't blame her for the careless, offhand comment from Vincent. Franky turned to work on another drink behind the bar, unable to hide the grin as Yeva mentioned potentially being arrested. He knew Vincent was much more progressive than many of the Zaichaeri natives here, but the lad was on his own in this awkward ballet of words.

“Look at you Mr. Franky, last we met I recalled you’re still running the tavern all by yourself. Well, well, everything you recommended so far has been exotic by the city’s standards.” Vincent laughed.

“THE FUNGITHAL? How did you even-” he stopped and lifted his index finger. “It’s better if I don’t know the details. Don’t want to spoil the surprise of tasting it right?”

“Well, I won’t argue with you on that one. If it’s only us” Vincent uses his finger to gesture at his companions. “But, that’s a different story if it’s the whole Corps.”

“Mr. Franky, that’s a nice idea. But it’s gonna be hard competing with your tavern. Since even the boys back at the West End love your boozes.” He chuckled.

“Can’t go drinking on an empty stomach right? One of those medics said it would make you dizzier or something like that if you drink on an empty stomach.” He grinned. “I take back my word Mr. Franky, knowing you, there’s nothing that’s just mundane with you. It may sound local, but maybe a local would be able to handle it. The five goblin chili still give me nightmares.” he laughed.

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“Mr. Franky owns one of the” he leaned in closer “best tavern this side of the river.” He looked around to see if any of the soldiers were within earshot. “They hate to admit it, but Mr. Franky knows his way around booze and keeping things interesting and lively.” Vincent grinned.

“Is it? So, in a way fate is a determined set of paths, and chance is based on randomness?” Vincent took a puff and blew a cloud of smoke upward. “Isn’t that some sort of magic? I mean, looking into the future or something like that. I always warned my sister-in-law to be careful of soothsayers because how else would you explain how they do what they do unless they’re a scammer or a mage.”

He paused and rethink what he had just said. “Oh, I don’t mean that disrespectfully. It’s just sometimes seeing is believing right?” he took another drag and blew a cloud of smoke.

Vincent was taken aback as Yeva stood up and tucked her curls behind her pointed ear. He did not realize it at the moment, but it dawn on him that considering their standings within the city, him a human soldier and her an elf.

“Wait,” Vincent grabbed Yeva’s wrist and he let go after he saw Franky approach the table and set the drinks in front of him.

“You got some snacks, Mr. Franky? Something light but filling and one of the Funghital burger” Vincent looked at Franky with a bit of relief in his eyes.

He took a deep breath and looked at Yeva. “Look, I’m sorry for earlier. Mr. Franky would ban us from the tavern if we ever did such a thing.” He took a sip from one of the flagons. It was the Goblin Ginger Beer. “Dammn, it’s great for staying up all night.” He commented on the drink. “Anyway, I guess it was fate that I bumped into Mr. Franky at the festival a few days ago. I mean, I was beginning to feel a little bit homesick. Smoking those goblin weeds with the grackles and goblins, wrestling with the Orkhans, and gambling with the Awokens. Word of advice, never play a card game with an Awoken, they’re hard to read.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Mr. Franky reminded me of home, where we aren’t divided by our views of things.” He sighed, his eye scanning the room. He saw Franz and Leon sitting at the bar, the other soldiers were drinking at their tables near the entrance of the tavern. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. No one is suspicious too. He thought to himself.

“Yeva, earlier you said Divination is an art form,” He took out a piece of gold coin and flips it. “Mind giving me a demonstration?” He then looked at the soldiers and turned to look at Yeva. “And don’t worry about them, they’re one of the more rational ones.” He smiled slightly.

Vincent grabbed her wrist firmly to keep her in place, the redhead woman freezing in response. Her brow creased and she frowned. Yeva looked at the stack of books, mentally gauging the distance between her and them. If she swung the weightier tome, it might buy her some time. Enough to get to the door after he let go. There were more men there. If...

Wait.

Franky walked up and the soldier removed his hand. Vincent attempted small talk with the hobgoblin, embracing the chance to lighten the air. Yeva, however, seemed unconvinced and shuffled another step away. Not fast enough, it seemed.

"Look, I’m sorry for earlier. Mr. Franky would ban us from the tavern if we ever did such a thing.”

Yeva watched him warily, rubbing her wrist to rid herself of the memory. Vincent complimented the beer, oblivious. He seemed utterly ignorant to just how rude he had come across. To approach her, imply that what she choose to do in her free time was somehow out of the ordinary, and then, after she expressed her feelings on a subject matter... To call it magic or a branch of deception in a city like Zaichaer... Yeva's cheeks flushed and she looked less apologetic and more irate.

Her nerves had misguided her. You seem lovely. That assessment had been too kind. Generous, even.

The shock when he had seen that she was elven was evident. That had been... unpleasant, but she should have expected it, "I'm not experienced in this sort of thing,"Yeva crossed her arms, watching him flip the coin, "But you don't strike me as being very good at it." It was not often she was approached in the tavern, but the first time she felt so slighted unintentionally. His easy-going attempts were coming across as flippant. He was trying. Supposedly.

Yeva wanted to argue that divination was not simply reading the future. She took a deep breath, completely ignoring the comment about his newfound ability to stay up all night, "Since we're trading advice now, I'd suggest airing on the side of caution when speaking on things you know nothing about," For a moment, the characteristic haughtiness of Hytori reflected in her eyes, perplexed how he could even ask for such a thing now. It was possible he was baiting her, and her attention followed him to the soldiers behind him. Rational thought could be a dangerous thing. Unlike instinct, it was premeditated, It is not surprising that a man who knows nothing of signs would find difficulty reading others.

"Awoken are... complex."

To grant him the benefit of the doubt, she tried to imagine the conversation from his perspective. Walking up to a stranger for conversation was scary and she wasn't exactly making things easy. Then again, what did he expect? Maybe things would have been different if he was a half-orc instead, "I mind a little. But," Yeva had not come there to work, but as she looked up and saw Franky's mirth, she was reminded of their conversation on the cliffs. A light to illuminate the path, "You should be given the chance to learn."

Yeva chewed at the skin of her bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons. Vincent would never gain wisdom without experience. Better he learned about the practice with her instead of crossing a more experienced mystic willing to curse him for his foolishness. Anyone passing by might show interest and find her for regular readings, which would help her ultimately hold up her side of things with the innkeeper, "Just so we're clear, it is not magic," the redhead was quite serious, hesitating only a moment before pulling out a deck of cards from her pocket. Vincent would know if she was trying to pull one over. She had never been a good liar, even as a child. When her siblings found themselves in trouble and her mother needed to know who was telling the truth, she'd call in Yeva as the witness, knowing the little girl's face would reveal all, "It'll be a gold piece for every card drawn," she said, a matter of factly. Beyond Vincent, Franky appeared close to stitches, "And a drink whenever I want one."

She knocked three times on the deck, shuffled them idly in her hands as she slowly resettled back into her chair. The right hand was action, left intention. Yeva set the tarot deck between them, face down, "Cut the deck when you are ready," she instructed, leaning to rest her elbows on the table. When he was finished, she waved a hand, fanning the cards out into a beautiful row. The rough, well-used wood of the table made the details of the painted backs somehow more vibrant than usual, "And choose."

A soft nod, and Franky dipped back into the kitchen. The whole crew was in there, with the two goblins arguing with one another as usual, while Chestnut would sing her favorite lines from their conversation in a shrill falsetto. Franky could only laugh, and made sure to stay out of their way as he made his way over to Dirdy who was frying up the day's snacks and filling them into a barrel. Franky grabbed a large wooden snack bowl, and as the kid pulled another batch out of the fryer, Franky held out the bowl. Dirdy let the rest of the oil drain off, then deposited them in the bowl, filling it. He grabbed his seasoning shaker, generously pouring it over them, before putting a lid over the bowl.

"Thanks Dirdy."

Franky shook the bowl several times, to spread the seasoning evenly over the snacks, before returning the lid to the line cook. Franky turned and pushed his way back out to the bar, and arrived just in time to hear Yeva setting out her terms for a tarot reading to Vincent. Franky liked her style and he'd certainly help to keep her drinks rolling for her. And he'd make sure she got the top shelf mixes. Franky set the bowl of snacks out of the way for where she'd place her cards, "Fresh made pork cracklin's with house blend spice on 'em."

Franky looked around, realizing that everything was running smoothly. He still wasn't quite used to that as a concept. Time to kill. A soft chuckle to himself, as he decided to practice the whole reason he opened the tavern in the first place. He turned to the shelf, plucking one of the top shelf Hobourbons, straight from the Goblin City, and set it on the counter. He stayed close to Yeva and Vincent, not enough to interrupt or overshadow, after all, divinations were often very personal private things. But the rest of the bar space was taken up by his workers that were hard after it.

Reaching under the bar, he grabbed a bottle of the Ecithian Bitters, and a jar of the cocktail cherries from Dalquia. He fetched one of the many bowls of sugar cubes, and the whiskey glass. He dropped the sugar cube into the bottom of the glass, and uncorked the bitters. He took a deep whiff of that citrus smell, before drizzling the bitters overtop the sugar cube. He followed that up with a splash of water to muddle it, making a simple syrup from scratch. Using a wooden pestle, he ground and mixed the sugar, dissolving most of it into the mixture.

Franky then uncorked the Hobourbon, taking another deep whiff of that sweet, sticky, smoky luxury. He poured a generous mix into the glass, followed by two cubes of ice. He grabbed an orange peel from the bowl, and squeezed it over the glass to release some of the oils, dropping it in, and plopped a cherry down into it. He held the drink up, studying it. He squinted at it, looking deep into it. The ice was opaque. He'd had it once back in the Imperium where the ice was clear but hadn't yet figured out how to make that ice. He'd need to look into it. Make the drink look nicer.

He sniffed at it. Sweet, just as it was meant to be. He took the first sip, savoring the mix of sweet and smoke. He crinkled his nose a bit though. Maybe a bit too sweet though. More bitters next time. This was followed by a shrug and a more generous gulp of the golden liquid. He leaned against the back bar, taking in the sights of his well oiled machine, and cast a momentary glance at the pair during their shared reading.

To be so young again. An old man's teasing smile crept on his face as he remembered how his wife would do smoke readings for him, long before she ever became his wife. The years keep coming, the wheel keeps turning, yet everything stays the same.

That might not be such a bad thing.

A chuckle and another drink, Franky crossed his arms, just taking it all in, and he smiled, contentedly.

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