Broadswords - 2. The Barkeep

Broadswords

Chapter Two
The Barkeep

The following evening, Daegon joined the royal family and other esteemed guests for dinner. That left Birten to find other ways to occupy his time. Daegon was particular about letting Birten remain in his home unaccompanied. Thus, the 20-year-old found himself trudging along the less opulent streets as he made his way toward his own dwelling.

The royal dinner typically went on for hours, usually long after the guests would have normally gone to bed. However, the celebration of another slain dragon and the exhilarating influence of the fermented meat left most unconcerned with the time.

As Birten walked, he thought about the previous night. Despite the dramatics that had occurred, he still ended up going to bed with Daegon. There was something about him that he still couldn't resist. A part of him wanted to withhold, stand his ground. But there was familiarity there. Attraction. Irresistibility.

They had been intimate, but only until Daegon's needs were fulfilled. Then, he rolled over and fell asleep almost instantaneously. Birten was left feeling unsatisfied and used. Arrogant as he was, this was the first time Daegon had been selfish to this extent in the bedroom. Between the happenings earlier that day and the sexual greed thereafter, Birten had never felt so completely taken advantage of. While one man whistled a tune of uncaring snores, the other found himself unable to drift off for quite some time.

Still, the next morning, Birten had accompanied Daegon to the nearest healer as soon as they had woken and dressed. After having chastised him for not coming to her as soon as they had arrived back in Jhirdyr, she gave him an ointment and assured the burn would heal within a fortnight as long as he applied it daily. For the pain, she recommended an herb he could pick up at any apothecary. Unsurprisingly, Birten had been tasked with the shopping.

Upon his return, Daegon had his squire apply the ointment and brew the herbs into a tea. He did thank him for his help, but soon fell asleep again. He was in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the day until it was time for him to begin readying himself for the dinner.

Currently, Birten realized he himself hadn't eaten all day and shook himself back into the present. Having been lost in his thoughts, he had missed the turn onto his street and didn't notice it until he was seven or eight roads further than needed. He had been through this part of town before, of course, but usually to get from point A to point B. He didn't generally stop in this vicinity, but his sudden awareness of hunger justified an exception.

He looked up and down the street on either side of him, looking for a place that might offer food. There wasn't much down the left side of the street, and the right side seemed to be primarily residential. He opted to go left.

It was at least half a dozen buildings down before he finally reached one that resembled an eatery. There was a wooden sign hanging above the door that read Street Inn. It wasn't a creative name by a longshot, and it was a horrible area for any sort of guest lodgings. However, a knife and fork were carved on either side of the title of the place, and Birten's stomach had started making noise. He decided to chance it.

The door appeared to have been constructed from the same wood as the sign, and the hinges creaked as he twisted the knob and pushed forward. The interior was better lit than he had assumed it would be. Four chandeliers, each holding what appeared to be a random number of candles, hung from the ceiling. They were haphazard in their positioning, not seeming to have been fastened to the beams in a preplanned way.

Although the illumination was inviting, the décor was not. The walls were drab and the floor grungy, and there were a total of two tables in the room. There was a bartop that ran along the entire width of the establishment, which led Birten to assume that it was more of a tavern than a restaurant, or even an inn as the signage had claimed.

As he assessed his surroundings, just about to turn around and find any other place, a man not much older than himself appeared from a doorway behind the bar. It was clear that Birten's presence startled him, as his eyebrows shot up quickly. "Oh! I didn't hear anyone come in. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

Birten was torn on answering the man or just darting out the door. He didn't frequent the area, so his chances of running into him again and being put in an awkward position were slim. If the state of the place was any indication of what the food might look like, it might be the best option. However, he wasn't that kind of person. He couldn't do that to somebody. He cleared his throat. "No, no. Not at all. I just came in."

The man's eyebrows lowered in relief. He smiled, running a hand across the manicured black hair of his beard. "First time?"

"Yes, sir."

The other man laughed. "Sir?! Please, please, I'm just 23! And a barkeep at that. No age or title to justify calling me sir!" He wiped his hands up and down his apron a few times, and extended the right one. "Kep. Call me Kep."

Birten grasped his hand, firmly, and shook. "Sorry, Kep. Habit, in my occupation."

"Have a seat," Kep said, nodding toward the bar to indicate that Birten should grab a stool instead of selecting one of the tables. He drummed his knuckles on the surface and pointed at Birten. "Wine? Ale? Mead? You strike me as an ale fellow." The barkeep's eyes were as dark as his hair, but they sparkled with an unlikely depth. Birten couldn't quite put his finger on what that look in his eyes was.

"Mead, actually. Gooseberry, if you've got it."

Kep snapped his fingers. "Damn, I'm usually right." He smirked again; Birten mustered a weak grin in return, unsure what to say. Grabbing a glass, the barkeep didn't let the unexpected answer slow him down. "Gooseberry mead it is!"

After being served his drink, Kep had provided Birten with a limited but intriguing menu. The small selection that it did offer was broad, consisting of dishes originating from different areas across the continent. It wasn't what he expected from a tavern, or from any establishment from this area of town.

And after being served the stuffed vulture stew, he knew the menu wasn't just providing lip service. The food was good. "Where do you even come up with a dish like this? Jhirdyr doesn't even have vultures!" Birten hadn't literally licked his bowl clean, but the thought had crossed his mind.

Kep laughed, and rubbed his hands together in amusement. The muscles in his arms tightened beneath his mocha skin. "No, we don't have them here, but they're regularly spotted in the plains to the north. They're pretty big birds, so my brother and I can go on a hunt and as long as we catch two or three, we're set for a while. They freeze pretty well. And," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "since vulture is a pretty uncommon bird in this area, it's considered more of a delicacy or an acquired taste. It's not ordered too often."

Birten started to join in on the laughter, but realized what had just been said and cut it off quickly. He paled a bit at the notion.

This caused Kep to laugh harder. His smile was ear to ear. "Relax! You clearly enjoyed it, it's just not a popular request because the customers we get in this area typically aren't well-traveled or known for their palates. The recipes are my father's."

Something in Kep's voice and carefree demeanor made Birten feel comfortable. He eased his shoulders and allowed himself to match the smile his host displayed. "Well in that case, I'd like to meet him, and pay compliments to the chef!"

"He actually died a little over a year ago," Kep informed. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but it was clear that it was still a little fresh of a subject.

"Oh, I didn't mean to…" Birten began, but trailed off. He didn't quite know what to say.

Though not as broad across his face, Kep's smile was still there. "Nothing to worry yourself over. I like talking about my father. He made me who I am today. My brother and I, we actually took over this place after he died. I can't cook for anything, so my brother handles that part. But I run the front. We make it work."

"You seem to be doing alright for yourselves, then."

Kep's smile drooped a little, but just barely, to a point where Birten wasn't sure if it had actually happened. When he spoke again, it was as peppy as before. "Business could be better. But we're not hurting. We're getting by."

Birten could count some of the biggest issues on his fingers, from location to upkeep to the name itself. But it certainly wasn't his place to voice his opinion, and it wasn't in his nature to be rude to someone he had just met. Especially when that person was as hospitable as Kep.

"In any event, I've just realized how rude I've been! Here we are talking about me, when I haven't asked what you do for a living. You mentioned earlier that calling everybody you encounter 'sir' is part of your job." Kep paused long enough for Birten to pick up on the fact that he was teasing. "So what is it that you do?"

Birten flushed. "I, uh… I'm a squire." He suddenly felt a bit foolish, a bit pretentious. Here he was in this eatery off the beaten path telling a hardworking soul who had to work his ass off to scrape by about his pompous position. To his relief, that is not at all how it was received by Kep.

"No shit! Knight's squire?" It was clear that Kep was awestruck and excited versus perturbed by the revelation.

"Dragonslayer's, actually."

"Serious? That's the most exciting kind! You must love it! And the stories! You must have so many! I want to hear all about it. Unless you need to go?"

Birten looked across the bartop at his new acquaintance. No. His new friend. In his few years as a squire, he had either felt like everyone was rolling their eyes that he was an arrogant kid with a self-righteous position or else rolling their eyes because he was nothing more than a squire. This wasn't the feeling he got from Kep.

Kindness, Birten realized. That almost unfamiliar sparkle and depth in Kep's eyes that he couldn't place earlier. It was genuine, honest, human kindness.