A Whiskey and a Tale (Chapter 2)
Posted: Wed Nov 03, 2021 11:31 am
Ash 89, 121
Franky pulled out his smoke box and Weston was quick to wave him off. The man stood up, walking over to Franky's desk, and opening the bottom drawer. Franky watched, both surprised that the man knew what was in there, but also comforted by the fact that he was so attentive. Truly nothing escaped his watchful gaze. It's why he was certainly the best hire for the position. Weston pulled out a small leather pouch and a pipe, walking over and handing them both to Franky.
The hobgoblin tavern owner set his whiskey glass down on the table, as Weston sat down, pulling a pipe out of his breast pocket. Franky uncinched the pouch, taking in the deep floral notes. It was heavenly. This was a rare tobacco, one for special occasions. It was grown by a small band of human sized Grackles in the deepest, southern parts of Ecith. From what he'd heard, it was grown in a particularly inhospitable swamp and it was impossible to come by back in the Imperium thanks to the embargoes. But he'd gone out of his way to find some when he came to Zaichaer but hadn't taken the opportunity to sample it yet.
He packed his pipe carefully, pulling a match from his smoke box, passing the pouch and box over to Weston. Franky struck the match off of one of the scars on his forearm, where the skin was especially rough and rugged, courtesy of a piece of shrapnel from his time in Sangen. He set the match to the pipe that was balanced in his lips, shielding it from wind that wasn't there, out of habit. He gave several puffs to ignite it and get the flow going. And when he took that first taste, he knew it was worth every gold coin he'd spent on it. Strong, floral and citrusy, sticky and sweet, with a coffee note at the end.
Once Weston had his pipe going, Franky grabbed his glass once more, taking a sip, and leaning back into his chair. He took another puff on his pipe, savoring it, before taking a deep breath. "It all started on my fifth birthday. I'm from the Bekari region, one of the smaller provinces in the Imperium. It's a beautiful place, two river valleys sitting on the wings of a single mountain. I grew up in Risea Village, on the east side of the mountain, the mother's valley as many called it. And in Bekari, the pleasantries of childhood largely end after one's fifth birthday. It is a cultural tradition, born of the need to constantly fight back invaders over the many centuries."
There was a conflict of emotions on Franky's face as he spoke of this, but a soft smile powered through, followed by a chuckle, "To this day, Bekari beams with pride in having never been conquered. Recently that's more of a technicality but still true. Years before I was born, the Imperium bashed its armies against our lonely little mountain, bloodying the Imperial lineages far more than our own. They believed that if they threw enough resources at us, we'd eventually crumble, and we believed if we held out long enough, they'd give up." A heartier laugh, "Turns out, both sides were right. A deal was struck. The Bekari people joined the Imperium, keeping our customs and way of life, but falling under the banner of the Emperor. If they call for war, we answer. And that agreement still lives to this day."
Weston nodded, puffing on his pipe a bit, blowing sloppy rings off to the side, "Is that where Hobgoblins come from? There seems to be an awful lot more of you all in the Imperium than I've seen elsewhere." Franky nodded, "That's what our stories say. The first of our kind was blessed by the Goblin King and settled in our mountain. Unlike... here, the Bekari people actually like outsiders who want to join our culture. A warm, welcoming people, so long as your hands aren't wielding a sword. All of our people are trained to be warriors, but most retire from service to be farmers."
Franky took another long sip of his drink, "Anyways, back to the story at hand. It was my fifth birthday. I am the youngest of thirteen children. I have twelve older sisters, all of them spitting images of our mother. She's a red skinned Hob, a general these days, refuses to retire, full of fire, fury, duty and vigor. So of course the Imperial army loves her. She married my father, who retired after a single tour, and runs a food stand in our village. He prefers the pleasures of life, and taught many of them to me. He's a green skin like me. Or at least how I used to be, though we'll get to that."
"The beginning of my fifth birthday was not really any different than any other day. Mama had shooed me off out of our family's ward and off into the village proper. I knew that she'd be helping my father prepare the birthday feast, and waiting for all of my sisters to arrive. Some had come in the day before, and the two eldest lived in the ward, one raising her first child while the second was pregnant. So off I went."
"The roads within the Imperium are quite safe for all of the citizens, even for a five year old child. I remember passing various merchants that were heading out of our village, making way for the mountain, and even passed one of my sisters, Licrecha. She was tired, but she still smiled, and even gave me a bag of candy, and continued her hike to our familial home. Eventually I reached the village center, sucking on the hard, honeyed candies."
"There was a large gathering of people I'd not seen before. A smattering of races, but most were not Hobgoblins. They were tired looking, dirty, clothes little more than rags. And that was when I first saw her. She was about my age, wearing what amounted to a burlap sack for a dress. I'd never seen a Lysanrin before, so seeing her horns, small as they were in her age, was quite the surprise. She was on the outer throng of several of these horned people, so I assumed them to be a family, with a man with huge horns towering over all of them, as he was in discussion with our village chieftain, a paper in hand. It sounded heated, and there was looks of worry on the other Lysanrin in the group, and onlookers were beginning to peek out from their vantages in the village."
"Being the child I was, I walked over to the girl and what I assumed were her siblings. I poked her on the shoulder, and she turned, looking in both surprise and suspicion. I held up the bag of candy, and spoke first in Goblish then Common, as that was how Mama was teaching me the Common Tongue, 'Candy?' Seeing the girl's face now, I could tell she'd been crying recently, eyes red, cheeks streaky from the dust kicked off the road. She looked over at one of her sisters, then back at me and gingerly plucked one of the bright gold candies out of the pouch, the tiniest of 'thank you' escaping her dry and cracked lips. I smiled at her and nodded, offering candy to all of her sisters as well, repeating it in kind."
"Then I heard my name called, and I looked up, seeing my sister Thrufti waving at me from a nearby shop. I waved at her and wandered over. Thrufti smiled that same feral smile she always wore. A wolf who'd found an easy prey and wanted to enjoy it. I remember asking her who those people were. Refugees from the Iaflorianum peninsula, she said. It was the most recently added province to the Imperium, a campaign my mother and several of my sisters had participated in. She told me that many of the families from there had been sent to villages all over the Imperium, while the government repaired and rebuilt the cities on the peninsula. I nodded. It sounded like a very nice thing to do. After all, who didn't want a new house? I understood so little then."
"Eventually it seemed that the chieftain and the big man with the big horns reached an agreement. This family of Lysanrin would be joining our village. I, of course, was excited, because that meant lots of new children to play with. I hadn't yet realized that after this day, there'd be very little time for playing left in my life. But that's the tradition of the Bekari, one that no family breaks. Even my own children and grandchildren were brought up in this same manner. Though we allowed ours to sneak off after finishing their trainings and chores to go be children, as long as they did so with skill benefitting their teachings. It wasn't until I became a father that I realized that's what all the Bekari parents did. Train the children to be hard, but let them earn their right to be children too, without their knowing. It's a hard way of life, but an effective one."