The Dragons Queen Saga

Part 13: Pursuing the Barmaid

Sunset over craggy stones, deafening waves crashing furiously against them. This soothed Dresden's soul. He could hardly believe he had stayed away from the ocean for so long. Something about the rage of the breaking water, the stillness of a silky beach, the wide, deep ocean laid out before him. He knew exactly why. BasNassal had been his home for centuries. His exile had left such a bitterness in his heart that he couldn't bear to look upon the ocean for many years. But this ocean, this landscape, he remembered intimately. Long before this kingdom had sprung up, covering the landscape and blocking out much of the view, he had lived here, broken and wanting to forget. Sveldin held a dear place in his heart; its people had invited him in and allowed him to destroy himself for as long as he wanted to, to dwell in his misery for a lifetime. He mingled with the drunks at the pubs, unable to get truly drunk, but allowing the pain of his exile to take the form of heavy drinking. His depression had been enough to convince the townsfolk at the time that he was just another destitute bum on the isolated coast. This land had also shown him how to live. How fitting that he would return to learn once again how to make a brand new start, with no one watching him this time. No one from the Dragon Council spying on his movements now that they all believed him to be dead. How frighteningly freeing. He didn't desire a strong drink to drown the feelings he had now.

His desire to live well was rekindled by the sacrifice of an old friend and ally that came to his aid at the end of his life. Lazarus you fool, Dresden thought, admiring the crashing waves. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself? With that thought, he wandered back through the gates into the desolate little province that was quickly becoming home. Vlad was at the bar serving drinks to a modest and subdued crowd. With no men around but the very old and the very young, the pub held more women than Dresden was used to seeing. Each night, they would lay children down to sleep and come to the inn's adjoining bar to drown their woes of loss in the bottom of a bottle, or tankard, or goblet. The pub, always well stocked with beer, mead and sometimes an expensive brandy could, even on slow evenings, easily supply the small province with enough alcohol to keep the internal demons away for a little while. The women gathered in small clusters and spoke of their men openly; some wept, others raged, everyone drank. Jukie was a favorite among the women because she too understood their pain, even though she would never slip and drink with the gathering crowds. A piano sat lonely in the corner, waiting for a patron to take up a song, or hearty ballad. No one entertained the groups; it remained quietly, waiting for someone to notice it.

Jukie called out to a cluster of rowdy women who had taken to dancing on their table with skirts held high, bare feet lightly tapping out a tune sung by their companions amid laughter and cheering. Even though Jukie's commanding voice could be heard throughout the room, her smile gave away her sweetness. The grin revealed her softer nature and the understanding of how these women needed this reprieve from their daily internal struggles.

Dresden had changed into a casual but flattering outfit that fit him well. The breeches were darker tan, with a short, whitewashed tunic with a split at the collar bone, revealing just a hint of his chest, with three-quarter length sleeves, embroidered around the cuffs in the local fashion. Jukie saw him coming as he entered the pub and turned away from him instantly, pretending to be busy behind the bar. He sat down lightly, the only customer at the bar, save for an elderly man who had taken up a seat at the end near the piano. It was clear he had gotten there much earlier, already well into his beer.

"Hello lady." Dresden crossed his arms on the bartop and smiled kindly. He understood human women. With his exile came the education of what it meant to be a single man, a human man, and his demeanor usually made women hungry for him.

Jukie turned to address him as a customer. "What'll it be then?"

She wasted no words on him whatsoever. She gave him no room to speak to her in a comfortable and casual way, but he expected this. Vlad was keen to hear their exchange and sidled up next to Jukie with his arm around her waist playfully.