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“Maiden, give us two servings of stew!”

Thadus nearly recoiled as the fiend shouted over the din of the tavern.

“Coming right up!” a deep, hoarse voice hollered right back.

He regretted his decision deeply.

The tavern was full of people — eating, drinking, betting in a corner with smoking pipes between their lips. The people were certainly a blend. He could tell that some were merchants, dressed in colours, but looking less gaudy than the imitation of refinement in the Upper City and without the entourage. Others were dressed in muted colours. Some had embroidery on them, others did not. Some wore apron, both men and women, and others had soot and filth on their faces. He was rather certain one of them must be a servant to a noble sneaking in a meal because they were indeed dressed like the servants he had seen earlier.

At any table could be composed of any combination of these mortals. It was nearly sacrilegious to see something such as this, to even be made to partake is such an absurdity. Was he supposed to share a table with these unrefined creatures?

He looked at the fiend who stepped inside and walked with confidence toward one of the tables. They pushed back their hood slightly, but kept it covering their head. They spoke to those already seated at it, and the people shifted to make room. A youth came to wipe the table after the thief waved him over.

Thadus watched all this in disbelief.

The fiend then turned to him and waved for him to come over. “Sir Caster, there’s space over here!”

He truly had to be seated next to these filthy things?

“Or leave, if you want,” they continued, voice loud. “But this is the best tavern in all of Rockforge. You are unable to find any better food than here!”

The tavern was fragrant with the scent of food. Indeed, there were the stenches of sweat and some nauseating odour he couldn’t place, but the primary scent was food with an undertone of liquor.

It was cacophonous. Loud. People shouted at each other, and one could hardly not overhear every conversation. He could hear the noise of pots and pans from somewhere, mugs slammed against tables, the clatter of utensils. There was no order to the noises.

The fiend was looking at him with a smile, seeming to not notice the many patrons of the tavern. Instead, they just waved for him to come over again.

Thadus felt mildly challenged.

Was this fiend trying to lure him to challenge his endurance? Was it about who could suffer through the most? Was it who could handle this torturous environment without being driven mad?

And yet…

Thadus found himself taking a seat, looking disdainfully at the person next to him. They didn’t smell horribly, but they were dressed in dirty clothing. The one next to the fiend was no better.

The fiend immediately started to chat with the two workers.

“How are you faring? Anything to note these days?” they voice somewhat lower in volume, making the other two lean in to hear them.

“Same old, same old,” Dirty-Clothes One replied. “Money rolls in once in a while. How are you faring, stranger?”

“Same old, same old,” the fiend repeated. “I’m looking for pawnshops. You know any that may know the worth of some more unique items?”

“What’re you looking for?” Dirty-Clothes Two asked.

“An odd lump of silver. You know anywhere where I can find something like it?”

“If it’s silver, head to the silversmith up in the Northern Market. She got a pawnshop too with her lass.”

“Didn’t know of her yet. Good to know.”

“Here ya go!” The deep, hoarse voice came from a short distance.

Thadus truly regretted his decisions today. He would never step a foot in mortal lands again.

A plate was placed before the fiend by a muscly arm, wearing crude necklaces. The arm belonged to a large mortal with sleeves rolled up. The apron was obscuring most of the garments, but the shoulders were wide and the face sported a long, brown beard that had been braided, a flower tucked into one, and a headscarf covered the hair.

Thadus couldn’t wrap his head around what he was seeing.

“Thank you, fair maiden,” the fiend said with a smile.

“Not lotta folks call me fair,” the mortal responded, placing the second plate before Thadus.

Thadus stared at the stew. 

“You’re a dashing lady, regardless of whether people call you fair,” the fiend replied. “How fares your father?”

The spoon had been placed in the stew, right on the plate.

“Better. Ya were a help sent by the Heavens that day.”

There were no other utensils, just some bread the same youth from before offered.

“That’s good news. Would you mind if I pay for the meal later? I don’t have my purse on me right now. I can drop by once I’ve picked it up. Just me. This lord can pay for his meal on his own.”

How does someone eat with only a spoon? This Thadus did not know.

“Hmm…”

“Then, let me offer a guarantee, miss.”

Thadus looked up to see the fiend reach into their collar. They carefully removed a delicate gold chain that was around their neck, cradling the pendant in their hand before Thadus could see it. They handed it to the… maiden.

“This is a memento of my dearest grandparents. It is, to me, the most valuable thing I possess, but it holds little value to anyone else,” they said.

“This is too much,” she replied.

“I shall come for it tonight, and I shall pay for the meal then.”

The woman was quiet. “Fine. But if ya don’t bring me the money, I’ll pawn it.”

The fiend nodded. “I know. That would be on me.”

They then turned to their meal, grabbed the bread, and tore it apart before they began eating.

The woman turned to Thadus, and spoke in that deep, hoarse voice. “Twenty-five copper, unless you want a drink too.” She said it with such determination that was clear she would never accept any less, despite the price seeming ridiculously cheap to Thadus.

“I only carry silver,” he responded.

“Then that’s gonna be a silver for ya, m’lord,” she said.

“…”

Thadus could only take out a silver coin out of his purse and place it on the table. He just clearly payed for far more than he received. What a fraudulent practice of this tavern.

Thadus exhaled after the tavern keeper left their table.

The fiend looked up, swallowed a piece of bread. “Is there something the matter, Sir Caster? Is there something you cannot eat? I have never heard of spellcasters having restrictions on their diets. Quite the opposite, in fact…”

“We do not eat food of low quality. Getting ill is an unfortunate human condition, thus one has to be careful about consuming unclean ingredients,” Thadus explained.

He refused to mention he did not understand these vulgar dining habits, however.

The fiend nodded along, then said, “Good thing this tavern has excellent quality food. Taste it, Sir Caster. First, tear a piece of your bread, like this. Common practice is to dip it in the stew, however, you may also eat the piece first, then take a spoonful of stew.”

They showed the steps as if Thadus didn’t know how to eat, and no matter how much Thadus wished to be angered by this display, it was difficult when he did indeed not know of this custom.

The fiend swallowed the food. “It is a lovely mutton stew, Sir Caster. It is more than adequate to be presented before royalty.”

Thadus doubted it.

He hesitated before he took the bread into his hands and tore a piece. He had no plans on dirtying his hands with food, much like a small child would, and thus he put the bread in his mouth first. It could at best be said to be bland and a little dry, and that was calling it high praise. He didn’t think it could improve from this — only get worse.

With the bread being difficult to swallow, he was forced to taste the stew as well.

He paused. He had been ready to swallow it down immediately, but he found himself savouring how flavourful it was. It was nothing akin to the joke called food in the Upper City.

“How do you find it, Sir Caster?” the fiend asked after a moment.

Thadus swallowed. “Barely adequate,” he said as he tried dipping the bread in the stew.

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Author’s Note

You are welcome to suggest unofficial names for our Tavern Keeper. I love her.