Perennial Jeopardy

[Fez_The_Kid]

Bitter ale trembled, its silver container failing to keep it from spilling over tipsy mercenaries and ligneous flooring. Scores of travelers had gathered off to one side of the room, where cards spread out on softwood tabletops, the clatter of coin sounding every dozen minutes or more. A serving was intercepted, the hand purloining the food like a venomous serpent striking for the kill. When it arrived at its table an angry fist, the served, struck the table-top. Its owner protested bitterly at the barmaid, his puckered face looking round for a missing executive. The man rose, rushing toward the dame and threatening to cuff her off her feet.

Before his hand had made contact with the dame, a stouter man intercepted the . Both pursed their lips in a contesting bout, as if it was a challenge of whom looked more irate.

"What’s happening here?" a gravelly voice demanded, its fountainhead vague in the crowd of onlookers. People seemed to turn and eye someone squat and slow-moving as he made way. "Problem gentlemen?" The voice came out once again, this time the source--a dwarf--bewhiskered and low between the looker-ons.

"This halfwit brought me an empty order!" He pointed to the barmaid, who opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again.

“Watch your mouth,” the stout one said, a cadence of warning present in his voice.

"Calm your horses, everyone." His accent strong, the seemed owner gestured for the barmaid to leave, then faced the two with a scowl. "If anyone intends to begin a fight, do it outside. Try something cheesy and I’ll have the guards making you look for your hands on the ground."

He glared at the disappointed horde once more, then, "Am I understood?" Soon the crowd broke in mumbles, people returning to their wonted activities. Each of the potential fighters bore a stiff frown at their tables, their piercing gazes unwavering from the other.

Through the tall, scattered figures that moved about a chap approached, his amber eyes glinting with purpose under the candlelight.

"How can I assist you?" the dwarf asked.

Eyes fell on the man with some weight, but he did not bend. The dwarf studied the man’s dark overcoat like an untold revelation. "Aetherius. I heard that--"

"Not here." The bearded dwarf turned, gesturing for the man to follow. Walking after the tavern’s owner eyes followed him slowly, before they both disappeared across the threshold.

Upon entering into the back room, the man wrinkled his nose as he whiffed a faint bouquet of lilac and gooseberries. Marble flooring stretched out before him, creating a repeated, inverted duplicate of the room. Tapers hung low from the ceiling, casting an orange, snug ambience in the the tavern bureau. Outside, the setting sun eyed him as its shape slowly retreated behind the horizon. Gold, perhaps fake gold effigies lined the incised wall like sentries guarding a royal chateau.

One wielded a brand, its crooked cross-guard completing the twisted shape of a readied bow. Aetherius... Carved in the blade was a pattern any swordsman would kill for, the corneous figure of a high dragon.