Broadswords - 4. The Squire

Broadswords

Chapter Four
The Squire

It was almost three hours into opening the doors before Kep saw any business in Street Inn. Thus, it was much like any other day. The majority of the afternoon patrons were regulars, drunks from the neighboring residences that had settled on this as their local dive. He did obtain a few more affirmative responses than normal upon offering lunch menus, however.

Business had never been spectacular, especially given the location and the size of the establishment. Though his father had managed to garner somewhat of a following over the years, that clientele had dwindled after his passing. These days, any traffic that came through the doors was good news.

His brother Sal was a phenomenal chef. He kept their father's dishes true to their original designs, following the recipes to the pinch. There were even a handful of selections on the menu that he had developed himself and were enjoyed by their guests. But his talent in the kitchen was just about the only value he brought to the table. He rarely came out from the back, he had no knowledge on tending bar, and it was absolutely certain that he would be beyond useless in any other of the various front of house functions.

This left most of the work to Kep. He didn't mind though. It helped keep his mind busy. He hadn't had many friends growing up, and that had carried into adulthood. When he found himself orphaned, that friend base had shrunk further. Between becoming a more morose individual due to personal loss as well as finding himself the sudden heir of the family business, he had become estranged from the few comrades he had left.

It wasn't that he didn't want friends. He enjoyed the company. He wasn't a shy person by any means. He always had the ability to be very jovial and conversational. Warm. Friendly. No, it certainly wasn't his personality that prevented him from making new friendships. It was his own tendency to pull away from those he began getting close to, and allow his positive attributes to fade away as he did so.

He had been relatively chummy with a girl in his early years, when they shared neighboring desks in the schoolhouse. Her name was Alanna, and she lived in the same vicinity as Kep and his family. They would occasionally play together after school had let out, and often spent time together during the school days. However, when his mother disappeared when he was 10, Kep started withdrawing from Alanna.

She had tried, at first, to keep their friendship afloat. But after days of avoiding her became weeks, Alanna's attempts began to decrease. And as the weeks became months, the attempts became almost nonexistent. And finally, one day, she stopped trying.

In the years after his mother's disappearance, he slowly began trying to get close to people again. He met a group of other teenagers that he kept at a comfortable enough distance that he felt he wouldn't have another Alanna situation on his hands. He was able to keep this going for a handful of years.

Then his father died.

He turned all of his focus to the inn. While it was a necessary concentration, he intentionally pulled away from these friends as well. He could have made time for them, allowed them to comfort him in his time of need. But he didn't know how to handle that kind of attention. He hadn't gotten a real chance to form a connection with his mother, nor had he felt particularly close with his brother. And while he felt a deep care for his father, their relationship was never deep. Whether or not the lack of familial bond was the root of why he kept people at arm's length, he wasn't sure.

It was Jeno, the last of his friends to drift away, who said something to him to make him begin to change his outlook on how he handled relationships. "Kep," he'd said, "you can't hope to open a treasure chest unless you search for the key."

At first, Kep didn't think anything of it. Jeno was known for saying cryptic things. But the more he dwelled on it, the more it started to resonate.

He wouldn't be able to find happiness if he didn't try to find a way to be happy.

If he kept bottling himself, he would become as worthless as his brother. He didn't want that. He thought of Jeno, the other guys. He thought of Alanna. While his own family had never made efforts to make Kep happy, these other people had. They voluntarily spoke to him, tried to form bonds. They weren't forced. They were in control of their own happiness, and they searched for their own keys until it no longer made sense.

Over the course of the next few months, Kep had worked on his positivity. He'd drawn upon the pleasant qualities he already had, like his ability to be inviting and hospitable. He had to dig deep to regain these capacities, but he managed. And the more he focused on these things, the more he noticed a change in his overall demeanor. He was truly finding happiness.

He noticed a difference in his customers, too. Business itself didn't vary, much, but the ones that passed through were friendlier with him in return. With each passing week, he was finding who he really was, and who he wanted to be. After a year of developing this lifestyle change, Kep knew he was ready to try forming friendships again. And to keep them.

And as if it were a sign, soon thereafter is when the squire had entered the inn.

Birten. As he got to know him over the time he spent at the bar, he learned a lot about him. He was a well-rounded individual, full of stories, and was genuinely intriguing to listen to. Kep even found himself opening up more than he ever had before. While he didn't bring up the topic of his mother, he did briefly discuss his father. Although he stretched the truth about his relationship with his father, he wasn't lying when he said he had a part in who he'd become. And exaggeration or not, it was more of an insight to his personal life than he had shared with anyone.

It was clear that the two men had rapidly begun to develop a bond even in such a short span. As much information as Birten shared about being the squire of a dragonslayer, he invoked just as much out of Kep's experiences in the food and beverage industry. While to Kep it was second nature and dull, Birten seemed to be enthralled.

They talked for hours, which was far longer than Kep had held an honest conversation with another person. By the time Birten decided it was time for him to depart, it was well past the normal closing time of Street Inn. But Kep deliberately kept that information to himself.

"It was fantastic to meet you, Kep," Birten had said with a smile as he pulled the door open and vanished into the night.

That farewell had played over and over in Kep's mind as he had lain in bed and tried to force himself to sleep. Now, the next day, it continued to replay.

Thankfully his standard routine didn't require a drastic amount of attention, as he had performed these daily tasks so many times before. Granted, he had to centralize his focus a smidgen more when it came to taking food or drink orders, but he managed.

He couldn't get Birten out of his mind.

And as if fate was lightning striking twice, the squire once again entered the inn.

Kep lit up immediately, but his smile dropped as he saw the look on his visitor's face. He looked forlorn, concerned, and sad all at the same time. Not that they were difficult moods to decipher, but Kep also knew how it felt to feel them in unison. "Birten, is everything alright?"

The squire stepped up to the bar and slumped into the same seat that he had occupied the prior evening. "Can I get an ale, please?" he mumbled dryly.

"I still have the gooseberry mead, if you'd prefer—"

"I'm an ale fellow. I lied yesterday. I don't know why, exactly. I guess I don't like being figured out right away." Birten's response was monotonous, and Kep didn't push the issue. If nothing else, it proved that other people had their quirks as well.

He filled a flagon and slid it across the bartop. It was emptied in mere seconds and slid back to him, and he repeated the action without hesitation. After downing the refill, Birten finally made eye contact with the barkeep. "Sorry for the dramatics. I'm just a little worked up. I felt like seeing a friend would help."

Although it was clear that Birten was having a difficult time with something, Kep couldn't help but feel a pang of delight at his phrasing. He hadn't heard someone refer to him as a friend in over a year.

"Did you… want to talk about it?" Kep asked, filling up the flagon for a third time.

Birten bowed his head as a thanks for the drink, and took another long swallow. Foam clung to the hairs above his lip, but he made no effort to wipe it away. "He didn't come home last night."

The pang of delight that Kep had felt just a moment ago was replaced by a fluttering feeling in his gut. It wasn't a feeling he was expecting. He tried to ignore it. "Who didn't?"

The squire averted his eyes, studying the flagon as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He ran his fingers along the lip, moistening his fingers on the droplets that clung there. "My… uh… my dragonslayer. He was invited to the royal feast last night in honor of his most recent slay. He didn't come back, and still hasn't been back as of this morning."

Kep began to reach out his hand to comfort the other man, but changed his mind halfway there and let his hand rest flat on the bar's surface. "Maybe he'd just gone a little heavy on the dragon tongue and had to sleep it off at the castle."

His suggestion was met with a shake of Birten's head. "That would never be allowed. The king would have his men deliver him back home in that kind of situation. I'm just… I'm concerned for his wellbeing, is all."

"There's surely a reasonable explanation. I'm sure if you go back to his place now, he'll be there," Kep assured. "Or your place, if you live together." He knew very well that a typical slayer-squire relationship did not involve the two sharing living quarters, as in most scenarios it was strictly a professional relationship. He tried to pretend that he was still just trying to learn more information about his new friend, and that he wasn't jealous. He didn't believe himself.

He found himself tuning out as Birten explained that no, they didn't cohabitate, and that it was normal routine to check up on one's slayer after an important event. He wanted to listen and be supportive, but he was perplexed as to why he was feeling jealousy. He'd met Birten but once.

Additionally, he was a relative stranger to romantic feelings. He had experienced the occasional passing fancy over the years, but nothing that lasted. What he was sensing now was completely new.

He studied Birten's face as he spoke, witnessing his mouth move but deaf to what was being said. His own thoughts drowned out what was being said. Instead, he inspected his features. His sky-colored eyes, subtle cheekbones, defined Adam's apple. He was a standard of attractiveness, without a doubt. Physically, of course it made sense to sense a desire there. But that should feel more like lust.

This jealousy didn't feel lustful, though. It felt deeper than that. It felt a lot deeper than that. Kep had kept to himself for so long that he was developing feelings for the first person he felt a connection to.