Princeps

Haughty lady, clear of eye

Gazed upon from way up high.

On Royal road she rattled and clanged

With her heart firmly chained.

Ervel the barber thereabouts hanged

Rascal and trickster as shifting as sand.

He knows to flatter, barely chides

each woman is his to bind.

Haughty lady boils in wonder

Barber offers to poke her yonder.

He offers kindly, his voice so down,

To shave a tad below the gown.

Her cheek is red, it’s not a joke

Would she give him chance to gloat?

Barber Ervel wanders further,

Ill repute for damsels’ fervor.

The children, five boys and three girls were running alongside the wagon and chanting to Ervel’s delight. His heart was warming up to the place, just as it would always. On the great blue road towards Jarat stood the Golden Oar, ready to welcome him once more. And his greatest admirers were there, singing praise. Atef understood most of the words, but not their playful interplay and Erleia was thoroughly impressed that Ervel had his own song. There was something about the way kids chanted it that she found particularly appealing, a melody which alluded to a quality Ervel possessed. Though she wasn’t sure what was it yet. She was annoyed that she cannot say almost anything to him and investigate her hunch, but that didn’t impact her mood. The language barrier will just make the challenge more interesting.

The kids restarted their song as the wagon slowly slipped into the small village that grew around the tavern. Atef paid attention still analyzing the context.

Language skill: 66 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to speaking ; current level 15/50 - subpar

And just like at the wedding, interacting with his own language outside the confines of the pit helped him learn a nugget more. Like down below, the more you collected the more you were rewarded and Atef was determined to learn enough tonight to understand this little childish carol.

Ervel nudged horses to a stop and smiled dearly at the children. He lifted his finger for them to wait and went back into the depths of his home. Noises of drawers being opened and closed, sometimes forcefully, paired with grumbling into a funny cacophony to which children laughed. Like trained dogs they were standing at the back of the wagon, some even wagging their behinds as if they had a tail that will signal to Ervel that they were good since they last saw him. Others played with the birds, poking their little fingers in and the birds responded in kind by trying to peck or claw at them. More laughter ensued from that game. Finally, he emerged, his hands full. He had puppets stuffed and stylized with hair of his numerous customers. The princesses he handed over to the girls had blond, red and brown long hair that reached their waistlines. Braided, their hair shone in the dying light and the girls immediately started swapping them between themselves happily chirping as they negotiated. The boys were given fierce warriors, bearded and ruthless with wooden axes and shields sewn to their hands. They were mostly black and red bearded as the most famous tales, for example that of Urdak the Merciless, portrayed those two colors as the fiercest.

- Ta my darlings, I can’t let my wonderful guests wait and Hulgum will be especially irate if we dawdle too much with you. But I will come to see you in the morn’ just before I leave.

- Will you bring us sweets?!

- Honeyed almonds?

- Peach pie?

- Golden fudge?

- Whatever I manage to smuggle under Feyta’s nose my dears! Would I ever disappoint you!

- Never! – they shouted together raising their puppets as knights would their swords while swearing oath. If something brought pride to Ervel, it was his ability to bring happiness to children.

The wagon slowly carried on covering the last five hundred paces or so to the Golden Oar. Atef and Erleia noticed a peculiar organization of this small settlement. All the houses were in a semi-circle around the Golden Oar with their entrances pointing towards the tavern. It looked as if it was done either out of convenience, so that everyone can access the lifeblood of the settlement with ease, or that the significance of the tavern was almost divine, the Golden Oar serving as a place of worship, a temple.

- May I take over your coach sir? – chirped the boy who was standing guard in front, enticing prospective customers or tending to those who have already made the Golden Oar their destination for the day.

- Sure you can laddie. Treat Rugen and Carlyle with utmost care and there might be another one in my coin purse with your name on it – said Ervel as he handed over the reins, placing an imperial pila in the boy’s hand. A copper coin, light and brandished with the simplest representation of a gryphon that the minter could etch into the mold. Long ago it used to mean more, comprising iron, the metal that sang doom to those who opposed the Empire. The recent coinage reflected the state of affairs post the Tricolor War and the old golden or silver grifs became a sort of artifacts, rare treasures that old heads of noble families kept as a reminder of glorious past, while poor ones considered them heirlooms to be passed on to the younglings. If something bound the rich and the poor was that memory of former glory.

- Don’t forget to feed the birds! – Ervel concluded as he was walking away from the stable to the tavern proper.

Golden Oar was made of sturdy red wood that was used in shipbuilding and Hulgum would tell, depending on the state of sloshness he would be in, that he either built it from the remnants of a sunk galleon or from the very ship he served on. It was a story for the wee hours and the guests usually avoided it as it marked the pinnacle of Hulgum’s unbearableness.

Atef and Erleia crowded Ervel as he was at the door. It looked like an entrance to captain’s quarters and even had Hulgum’s name on a small metal plate, one of many vanity curios the proud proprietor scattered across the venue. The other was a set of teeth, human it seemed, arranged on a string just below Hulgum’s nameplate. The door opened and the newest visitors were greeted with a cheer. Hulgum, or Feyta would always lead it and those who joined in could expect a treat by the end of the night. It was a homely custom, a little something to make you feel welcome.

- Well isn’t that the swashbuckling freebooter of hearts at my doorstep?

- You are doing well yourself you old sea wolf! Come give us a hug and a kiss!

Stunned by the welcome which brought smiles to their faces, Atef and Erleia didn’t notice the sudden change in Ervel’s demeanor. Their eyes were scanning around, eventually gluing themselves to the golden oar. It was chained and bolted above the bar, far away from the reach of the patrons’ greasy fingers. It shone dark yellow, coppery in the dim atmosphere and both wanted nothing more than to touch it, take it in their hands and feel the weight of solid gold.

- Slim pickings in terms of seating tonight, but I have a place for you at the stern, close to the galley.

Although Hulgum argued Feyta with all his might, the kitchen ended up being in the back, rather than the front, which he intended and was the practice on imperial ships. More than one crew in imperial history fought harder and fiercer to keep their galley safe, hence its unusual positioning, but on this stranded vessel it just didn’t make sense to welcome the guests with the waft of stews, spices and droplets of fat that usually fly everywhere in the small, crammed kitchen area. Hulgum, slave to his seafaring ways relented in the end, though heavy-heartedly. Since then, he swore that every Feyta’s fancy will simply not go. That’s why he wasn’t speaking to her tonight and didn’t let her greet Ervel in his presence.

- Here we go! A plate of proper delight for each of you scallywags! – Hulgum exclaimed as he placed something bubbly and full of eyes in front of them. It looked like a swamp of horror to Atef while Erleia just looked curiously at Ervel and Hulgum expecting an introduction to the delicatessen.

- Ah finally, an exquisitely appropriate entrée! Good timing my esteemed companions, we came to Golden Oar on fish stew night! And where is fish stew, there is more fish delights, isn’t that appropriate to conclude my dear Hulgum?! – chirped contently Ervel as he popped the first eye in his mouth squishing it with a loud, mushy sound.

Erleia followed suit, eyeing Ervel after every mouthful, his mannerisms, his comportment, his essence. There was something about how males carried themselves in her presence and her libido; a power of arousal from the simplest of things. Such as his daring smiles and carefully crafted glances. As if tailored just for her. Meanwhile Atef couldn’t stand to look at the eyes staring back at him, choosing instead to look around. He has eaten all sorts of slop not fit for humans in his time, but never something that stared back at him. Firstly, Atef noticed Hulgum, paying special attention to his fat, red, slack cheeks and eyes that must’ve spelled dread in many hearts in the past. Now the ashen brown of his irises brimmed with joy while the dread and anger and vileness and lunacy could be spotted only by a person with a special affinity and background. That is, a slave who has spent years in the pit seeing the same in the annoyed, drunk and hazy-minded guards who lost track of why are they even still there and doing what they were doing.

- This old sea man saw much and did worse! Canna not look his eyes, something else, must find something else!

- Where is dear and beloved Feyta? – asked Ervel politely inquiring.

- Oh you know her, more annoying than a barnacle up the bum. She is in the kitchen, sulking. May have to do with a certain wallop she deserved not too long ago. So it’s better not to see her, she is not… gazable.

- Oh I see, very unfortunate but I suppose appropriate given the circumstances. I am only inquiring because of the children you see. As usual…

- The little rascals want something sweet to suck on again? Ye, ye, Feyta will have something made for the little ‘uns.

Looking away from all those nasty and menacing eyes, Atef started considering other guests. Half of them looked relaxed, on their own turf and well accustomed to each other, while the other, passersby, stuck mostly to themselves, dining and paying no mind to the locals. The teeth at the entrance made sure very few and far between brawls would take place at the Golden Oar, so this charm of intimidation was working flawlessly tonight. Hulgum added even a pair of his teeth which he lost in a few meaningless fights. This fine Hulgum’s invention ensured that the mixing of the locals and the travelers would only happen at the initiative of the former.

- Care to join a game of dice? – asked a scrawny man who looked like a scarecrow that decided to walk off the field and take a load off at the Golden Oar.

- Wha’ now? Dice?

- Yes dice! You look like a good dice player.

Atef looked with uncertainty at Ervel and Hulgum asking for some sort of confirmation of the asker’s trustworthiness.

- I believe this fine gentleman will join you after he has had his supper – answered Ervel and gave a nod to Hulgum.

- If that’s so, you know where to find us – said the scrawny man pointing at the biggest table in the center of the tavern. It was the only one with enough room for everyone’s elbows as Hulgum procured tables in line with his naval philosophy, small, crowded, barely sitting more than four and even they would be uncomfortably close and hunched over as if the next deck was just above their heads.

Moments later, Hulgum was back with smoking plates; his specialty reserved for the more esteemed or better paying guests. Roasted mackerels served with seaweed and potatoes roasted in pig fat.

- Hulgum has fresh fish delivered to him in barrels filled with ice and spares no expense when it comes to the fruits of the sea. I believe that a proper thank you is in order – explained Ervel to his companions.

- Thank you! – both exclaimed and then started inspecting the goodness in front of them.

Atef’s stomach has already been painfully growling since the moment they entered the tavern so he was ready to dig into the white-gold meat in front of him and the side of potatoes, leaving the gooey, oozing substance for the end if he is still famished. He was still wary though, as he never ate fish nor seaweed.

The taste didn’t disappoint, the fish was rich in taste, salty enough though a bit dry, while the potatoes infused with that sweet pork aroma tasted divine. Since he could only see its meat in the plate, he couldn’t guess how the fish looked like but he got an idea of its size. The other input in this conundrum were the eyes in the stew. The third were some of the exhibits stuffed and strung up on walls that only now started to attract his attention.

- So then, dice? – called out the scrawny man from his chair as Atef placed the utensils down on the table. They were made from metal and felt good in his hands, prompting him to even consider stealing a set when no one’s looking. Down in the pit he would have only a spoon, wooden, often shared.

- I believe that the gentleman on the other table would love your company Atef, sir.

- I canna not play the game, don’t know rules – responded the boy unsurely.

- Oh it’s the four dice Gajar, everyone in the holy lands of the Empire knows, loves and plays that game. You must’ve had multiple chances to try it yourself. Whoever gets highest roll wins, except if you get four of a kind in which case you automatically win. The only caveat is if two players get four of a kind. Then the higher one trumps the lower. Simple, effective and certain to cause a lot of racquet and merriment. Go give it a try m’lord!

- Come boy, come! Good lad, we’ll have a good time!

- That would be the best way to pass the time before hitting the sack! – advised Hulgum collecting his plate. He glanced at Ervel, so much hidden in their quick exchange which Erleia noticed and smiled.

- You join me? – Atef asked Ervel hoping for some back up.

- Nothing would make me more ecstatic to partake, however I really have to devote a bit of my time to my dear Hulgum and head over to the kitchen to greet lovely Feyta. Hope you can understand m’lord. Lady Erleia can stay here and wait for you, I suppose, and our dear host will take her to the bedchamber when she is ready – enunciated Ervel melodically hatching a plan in his usual high speak.

To Atef it only meant: “You’re on your own dipstick.”

One final glance at Erleia, who approved with a quick look at him and the dice table, broke his hesitancy and he walked over to the scrawny man and his friends. He took a place between two of the other locals whose only defining feature was foul body odor. Another two across from him seemed like brothers, with similar wide jawed and plump facial features and green eyes.

- Look Banam, hook nose is becoming fashionable!

- Where did you get that nose busted boy? – asked Banam, one of the two plump brothers, whose nose was crooked to the left so much that it looked like it was glued to his cheek.

- In a fight – Atef said dispassionately, not putting any manhood in it. The words came out limp and almost apologetic.

- Oh, feisty! Or likes to be spanked around? – asked the scrawny man rhetorically, eyeing Atef head to toe to see if anything else on his body could attest to whichever of the two boy claims next. He already came to his conclusions though.

- Nah, none of two! I don’t like to fight.

- Less talk more Gajar! – interjected Banam’s brother, the plumper.

The scrawny man waved off in annoyed acceptance and put the dice into a cup, handing it over to Atef. The foul smelling to his left gave him a bunch of token coins, too many for Atef to count.

- How much do you bet boy?

- Uhm, three – said Atef showing the number with his fingers as well.

- Not good, not bad – suggested the scrawny man accepting the bet. – Raise you to seven. Others?

The men placed their bets following the scrawny man’s lead.

- I placed the highest bet so I get to choose when to roll the dice! But since you are the newest in our merry flock, you get to go first! – said the scrawny man with a slight snakish hiss.

Atef gulped, looked back at the table where Erleia was supposed to be and saw it was empty.

- I must see, my friends…

- Oh the game cannot stop once it started, that is the rule of this table. It’s the best one in the tavern so it is reserved for playing and not waiting and twiddling our thumbs. Don’t worry they are nearby. Your lady friend most likely went for her “night routine” before dropping into bed exhausted – said Banam winking at the others around the table.

- Less talk, more Gajar!

And so Atef had his first roll. It was eighteen, pretty good. However, the foul-smelling man to his right won the round rolling four twos. In the next round the scrawny man won and Atef was already down twelve coins. Based on the pile, he estimated he had plenty more but the way others played caused fear that soon enough he will be clinging to his last few.

He then rolled a twelve, then sixteen, then seven. All losses. Then he rolled four threes, but the plump “more Gajar” Banam’s brother rolled four fives. He finally won on the next turn, rolling twenty-two. The coins rolled to his side of the table and the immense joy overwhelmed him. His eyes gloated for a split second, boosting his confidence, elating his composure to that of a vanquisher of his foes. In the next round he bet heavily and won again.

- Kartak! – he exclaimed happily in the tongue of the pit.

The other players reacted differently. The Gajar freak, the plumper brother, was flushed with anger. Banam was counting his coins planning how to distribute them between next rounds. The foul smelling were looking at Atef with scorn typical to a sore loser in their own house. The scrawny man though, his eyes glowed.

Then Atef lost. And then he lost some more. Then he won, but from that point onward he was only losing. The dice didn’t love him anymore, he couldn’t hear their special winning resonance as they were tumbling around the shaken cup. They offered disappointment in return, bitter and maddening.

- Seems like you are down to your last four. Tell you what, I will bet twelve and if you win you get to take them, you don’t need to match me by borrowing from the others. But… only the two of us roll the dice – said the scrawny man while Atef inconsolably counted the meager sum in front of him over and over.

- Why’s that that way? – asked Atef.

- For the fun of the game. We are just getting started and it would be a shame that we lose a player at the table. But if fate decides so, well…

The others just smiled although the scrawny man didn’t finish the sentence. It was their little inside joke that sounded ominous.

- Well wha’?

- Less talk, more Gajar! – came out menacingly from the plump’s mouth repeated by the others.

Atef placed his last coins in the middle sensing the peer pressure crushing his shoulders like the weight of an ocean. And then he rolled first. He shook the cup like a mad man, feeling that peer pressure intensifying as everyone’s eyes fixated on him in a trance blurred only by the movement of his hands. The dice flew out of the cup tossing and tumbling, one even barreling towards the edge of the table. First landed on one, then the second did as the first, third came through for him a moment later while the fourth die was still speeding towards the edge. It stopped just shy of it, as if someone placed it there on purpose.

- Half of a spider! – concluded the right foul smelling.

- Seems like you are still in the game - said the scrawny man as he was collecting the dice for his roll. Atef sighed with relief and smiled. He comfortably leaned back in his chair waiting for the formality of scrawny man’s roll to be over and they can continue with the game. Fortune was back on his side.

- Double spider! – exclaimed all but Atef as the scrawny man rolled four fours.

- Ha, seems like the gods like me after all – observed the scrawny man shifting his gaze from the dice to Atef. – You seem to be out.

The other smiled, committing to memory this round as they were sure they’ll retell or reminisce it many times in the future.

- Then I go. Thank you for game – said Atef experiencing sadness and relief at the same time.

- We haven’t settled the issue of payment though – remarked the scrawny man stopping Atef from getting up by placing his hand on top of Atef’s.

- I… you didn’t say pay, just play! I didn’t know!

- How do you think these things work boy?! When you play dice there is always money involved. A silver piece for each player you played at this table. Where are your five silver grifs then?

- I have no grifs, I have no coins! Canna I go, get from friend?

- And how can we trust you not to run out the back door and away? – asked Banam.

- No running! I swear, I vow, I plead – Atef said it as the bosses taught him back in the pit. They’d measure the pronunciation of each of these words and if they didn’t like the sound of any single one, they’d slap him around to make sure he isn’t lying.

- You know what… I’ll let you in on a little secret. I knew you didn’t have any money.

- So why nah lemme go?

- Because a fine boy like you should give me a kiss! – concluded the scrawny man.

Atef’s gut clenched, his ears turned red hot and started buzzing, his heart summoned primordial fear with its bellow. He wanted to jump away, felling the scrawny man’s hand squeezing his with defiling gusto.

- No!

- Don’t be shy, a simple price to pay since you do not have any coin. We will step into a room, no one will see it. Maybe you like it. Maybe you will want more – slowly continued the scrawny man under his voice while his other friends started a round of their own ignoring their existence. The lascivious undertone grew into a sweet whisper of a summer night. The scrawny man’s hand slowly constricted his like a claw of an incubus. Below, in the mists of haggard and depleted will and reason, was his favorite fruit that he wanted to force Atef into consuming.

Atef was ready to cry, to succumb. The will to fight was suffocated through the hold the scrawny man had over him. It took away all of his power, relegating him to a shadowy husk that cowers in the corners of the depravity he is being forced into. As if in those dead zones the screams of a thousand madnesses will not reach him, won’t remind him what he allowed to transpire.

- Wilmer, leave the boy alone – interjected a voice, long forgotten in the destitute state Atef was in.

- Don’t bother Hulgum, he’ll be out of your hair tomorrow. Let me have my way tonight!

- He’s just a kid! Leave him be!

- Seems ripe enough – Wilmer said, reaching with his other arm to Atef’s groin which raised a few eyebrows in the immediate surroundings but no one said a word.

- There! – the owner exclaimed placing one of his more cherished curios in front of the scrawny man. It was a glass eye with a sapphire embedded in the circle of onyx.

Wilmer had a look, scoffed, then had a second look. The eyes of his friends around the table were focused on the treasure with thievish reverence. Wilmer had a look around, looked at Hulgum whose eyes warned and simultaneously stressed that he is getting a really good deal.

- Fine. Take away the boy, he is too thin and has that nasty looking nose anyways! – said Wilmer relinquishing Atef of his grip. The boy wanted to drop down like a rock and stay there. He was catatonic, oblivious to the trade for his soul. Hands were on him; he was blind. Someone was taking him somewhere.

- This will be your room, strip and go to sleep. Morn’ will take it all away. Did you hear me?

Atef stayed mute. The hands stripped him. He quivered and let out a sob. Something shimmered in the corner of his eye. The hands didn’t drop him into the haze of despair, he remained pure. He was enveloped by warmth, tucked in, safe. Sleep couldn’t come to him. He was shut off from the world, a mote of a foreign substance in this mortal coil. Moans in the room next door couldn’t scrape through the barrier.