Ridgelen sat with his eyes closed at the bar. His captain’s cloak and all of the heavy responsibilities and concerns that came with it were all left back in the barracks until the morning. It had been a long and rather trying day in the city. His thumbnail idly flicked under his other fingernails on his right hand, loosening grit and debris lodged within. He rolled the hand, all of the digits stretching and tightening in a synchronized manner causing his knuckle to tighten and crack. The thumb then continued pressing along his pointer finger, feeling across new scuffs that pained him. He took his left hand out from under his jaw, letting his head hang heavy and stretch his stiff neck as he took hold of his glass. The smooth stones which had chilled the liquid had kept it cool, even for as long as he had taken to finish it. He pressed the glass against his temple letting it draw out the pain of his headache along with the heat. He grimaced slightly, the discomfort in his head shifting rather than dissipating.
The day had been one packed with awful decisions. Several patrols had been sent to enforce tax collection, and the elevated amounts had many of the people still behind on payment. As such, tensions had grown, and violence had broken loose. Several new recruits had been maimed or possibly crippled by a disgruntled toolsmith who knew his hammer better than they knew their swords. Before Ridgelen could calm the citizen one of the King’s assassins took the liberty of killing the man in the middle of the street. The assassin then simply flashed his badge and walked on, leaving the Captain to deal with everything else. More blood in the streets was not what this city needed right now.
He guided the glass back to his lips and poured down another measure to dull the miserable feeling within. The stones slid against his upper lip, only reminding him of how unkempt his face was as stiff short hairs uncomfortably crinkled. The pain fought to remain present, even if the guilt of the day became more distant. He looked up towards the waiting barkeeper and began to request another drink only to watch the man vanish. The creak of the door and the barkeeper’s standard greeting were heard from behind, along with some mumbled phrases from a female voice. There was no one else in the room beyond the barkeeper and himself, so he groaned at the idea of forced conversation.
“Oh, the poor knight isn’t so shiny today.” Came a childish voice from behind him.
Anyone else would have been much more tolerable. He cast a sidelong glance at Tilt as she leaned on the bar beside him, keeping poised to antagonize his attention with tempting posture. He glared intently at his glass even as it refilled.
He noticed her shift, but he pushed his thoughts down further into his glass.
“Playing the mysterious mute tonight then?” Tilt said quietly, but with dramatically unstable emphasis on her words. Her teeth snapped shut in a wicked smile as she stared hungrily for any sign of response.
“Not here for talking.” He muttered. Tilt’s smile parted wider as she began to speak.
“Or anything else beyond a drink,” Ridgelen growled before she could taunt him with any suggestions. Tilt went back to smiling and staring. The Captain sipped at the alcohol. No one made a sound for minutes. He turned to face her maddening jester’s grin which she held in an unflinching challenge even as his head swung around to face her.
“What do you want you…you…harpy?” he choked out, his throat pinching at an unfortunate moment, causing him to sound hoarse. His face flushed causing his vision to swirl and he expected her to leap at the sign of weakness. Instead, when his eyes focused he found her face somber. The name for some reason had struck more harshly than if he had hit her with a fist. There was a shimmer as a tear appeared below her flawless illusory face and fell to the floor.
“I’m here getting away from myself too,” she whispered.
Ridgelen opened his mouth to apologize, but Tilt flashed a slight smile and waved a hand. Embarrassed the captain returned to looking down at the counter as he searched for words to make amends.
Tilt resumed her more cheery tone. “Don’t bother big guy. I invaded your pity party, let me make it up to you.”
Ridgelen sighed, “I didn’t mean…”
The door closed loudly behind her, echoing across the hollow room. Ridgelen stared at the door as if an answer were lost somewhere in its wooden surface.
“Dust it! Can’t I get anything right today,” he muttered.He coughed slightly at having the enchantment shift the curse in his mouth
He stood up, only to sway into the bar heavily for support. His boots fighting each others as they shifted against one another. He reached for the distant door as if to gain its support, but his hand fell 20 feet short. There was a gentle thud of thick glass on the bar. The Captain looked down by his hand to find a short uncorked potion bottle. The barkeep stood as steady as ever behind it.
“Gives you about an hour of clarity, but for twice the recovery.” He said.
The captain looked back after the door, then carefully reached for the small vial, drinking it down. It tasted of clear spring water which changed swiftly into an increasingly horrid bitterness as it went. He struggled to withhold the gagging and coughing which his body told him to do, at least until the potion had settled. At once the room stilled, and his balance was firm. To some degree, his headache felt tempered as well.
“How mu…”
“It’s already on your tab.” The barkeeper chimed.
Ridgelen stood up, ensuring that he was capable to hurry after her.
“Thank you,” he said and set out to try and actually make something right before this ill-fated day was finished.