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Chapter 11
It took all but a half hour for the fourth set of three ales to be delivered to the sellswords. Already, their table was covered in a thin layer of spilled alcohol and foam. Two plates of seeds had neared empty between them, and their papery shells were littered about every time they were finished. Frankly, it would have been a normal sight for Benny had it not been for the pressure he felt to serve some ‘real food’.
As for Ezabel, she could not help but notice with a quiet eye, the speedy deterioration of their behavior. Not that it was anything remarkable to begin with. Rather, it was a brief moment of fascination that donned on her as she had the very same drink they had been enjoying. Only, she had yet to take a sip. She neve gave alcohol a chance. Whether it would be from a lack of friends or a lack of alcohol, she never quite had the opportunity to engage with it back home.
So, her eyes darted between the sellswords and her mug. She was an adult and had heard plenty of things regarding drink. Still, something before made her a little too nervous to ever wet her lips. How would she handle it? How much could she take? Did it even taste good? Her fingers reached for the mug and brought it ever slowly towards her. The foam had died out by now and all that could be seen was her own reflection in a dark pool of liquid. It had a sharp smell, somewhat pungent. - No, she was not to judge a book by its cover. The mug tilted. Her lips neared the brim.
“Ey. How much longer is this thing gonna’ take?”
The sudden appearance of the shaved sellsword nearly spooked the drink out of her hand. Before she even noticed, he had stood and made his way to the bar. With his cast, he leaned over and shot a glance over at Benny. Dani had no response, for which she could not be blamed. She could only stare back, slightly staggered. At this distance, the man’s twitching eye could be seen running like a flickering ember. His underbite pushed his chin forward, past his nose. He was altogether a sight that made sore eyes.
“What’re you looking at, girl?”
“N-nothing!”, Dani yelped before sliding back behind the stove with her head down.
“It should be done soon, sir!”, Benny replied as he ran over from the other end of the bar. “Only a few more moments, why don’t you and your friends have another plate of bread, on the house!”
“Stale bread and bad ale. We best get something hot to eat soon! This village is nothing but disappointment after disappointment.”
He made off with the bread after having snatched the plate right out of Benny’s hand. It was inaudible, but a grumble certainly came from his direction when he made his way back to his table. He spoke for their group, that much was clear. - That is when Ezabel, with unexpected energy, turned to her bag and gave the books inside a peculiar look. Until now, she could not place her finger on why their entire situation felt so familiar. She had not met any of them before. Not before arriving in Angoulet, that is. And, she definitely did not know any sellswords.
“Wait, Benny.”, she smiled. “Is this it?”
“Is what, what?”
“Your nightmare!”
“Ya lost me.”
“What? I mean a barkeep’s nightmare! Don’t you know the ‘Road of Gatrie Addington’? Or ‘Virgil’s Gate’? Or ‘The Tale of the Seven Swords’?”
“The children’s stories?”
“It’s how they all start! A group of rowdy drunk guys walk into a pub and start making a mess!”, Ezabel pointed inconspicuously towards the table of sellswords and their mess. “Then our Attendant hero, who is already inside, steps in when they start picking a fight with the poor bartender - you!”
“Oh, please no. No fights.”
“Do you want me to say something to them? I don’t have anything prepared though. Give me a moment.”
There was a devious glow in Ezabel’s eyes, filled with what most would consider to be mischief. Two things of note came to the front of her mind. One: In her stories, these ‘rowdy drunk guys’ always made boisterous threats, but never saw them through. Two: their leader was always the loudest, but a weakling that folded the very moment his goons were put down.
“No, no! I don’t want to make a scene!”, Benny interrupted.
“But-.”
“They’re okay, Ezabel.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Strange. She genuinely saw this very situation in her books. It was as if she studied them outright. Why would this be any different? Then again, who here knew Ezabel well enough to tell her about the ugly truths of the world at large? Society was not as it was portrayed in books or play. For the moment, it seemed a lot more boring.
“I still can’t believe we couldn’t make it.”, a sellsword slammed the table.
“It’s nothing but luck and fanfare.”
“What a joke. Who are they to say we can’t join their Order? We have more experience than anyone that passed, yet our bodies can’t handle a knightstone!?”
“Their loss.”, the shaved man added as he looked upon his wrapped arm. “We’re better off anyway. They’re nothing but a bunch of glory hoarding, politicking show offs. They do nothing for us.”
They nodded in shared irritation and quickly chipped away at the bread.
“Besides, who needs them? We can tell everyone that we were good enough to take the assessment now. We can charge way more money than before. - Looks like sucking up to that broad Leonora wasn’t a total waste of our ti--.”
A mug and a splash of ale came screaming against the man’s shaved head. It struck true and saw that his balder spots glistened against the afternoon air. Even Ezabel, whose arm was fresh off the throw, could not describe the reason for her sudden outburst. It just happened. Their ridicule of her childhood and of her brothers; it simply forced a surge of anger to run right into her throwing arm.
The sellswords stood and turned in her direction without a wasted moment. Their hands immediately fell upon their weapons, only to realize that Ezabel was responsible for the drenching. Still, their wrath was well and obvious. Both Dani and Benny had been outright shocked by the turn of events. So much so that they nearly froze in place.
“U-uhm. Ezabel?”, Dani whispered.
“I-I don’t know why I just did that.”
Anxiety blanketed her face when the sellswords approached her. Their steps were heavy and almost shook her off of the stool she sat on. As a pure reaction, her palms opened and raised to her shoulders in a show of feigned innocence. She was cornered rather quickly.
“I don’t care if you’re a girl. I’m in a shit mood today and I’m happy to beat you to a pulp for that.”, their leader stated.
He leaned forward and snorted hot air. The smell of alcohol was ripe on him like a coat of stink.
“Y-you mean the ale?”, Ezabel kept a weak smile. “I dropped it, I swear!”
“Give me your damn money. You’re gonna’ pay for our meal and my new clothes.”
“Wow.”
Her eyes widened with veritable surprise.
“What?”
“That’s exactly what they say in the story!”
Immediately, Benny moved between them. There was red all about his face; sweat and adrenaline that coalesced into the image of a nervous man. Not since his youth had he made a sprint that quick. Still, his arms reached without a second thought and pressed gently against the sellsword’s arm. An innocent gesture, Benny surely believed.
“Please. I-I don’t want any trouble in my pub. I don’t know what’s gotten into the girl but I’m happy to reimburse you--!”
Ezabel took a sudden breath of dismay. Benny’s piece had been cut short right in front of her by the shaved man, who threw a jab into his stomach.
“Get out of my way!”
A typical, sidelined Ezabel would have remarked on how the line ‘Get out of my way!’, had also been a staple among the beginning chapters of her books. But, there was nothing typical within her anymore. There was only the need to strike. - Before Benny had even touched the floor, Ezabel’s fist had flown in and across the perpetrators face. No one knew that it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Only that it was supremely effective. Everyone watched as the quasi-leader fell back against the bar and folded over like a blanket.
“Ezabel!”, Dani warned.
The other two sellswords, astonished, turned to Ezabel and reached out to grab her. Everything then became downright sloppy. They lunged and collided with one another, which in turn caused Ezabel to fall backwards off of her stool. There was a great crash as she hit the floorboards but the pain saved itself for later. From above, one of them reached for her once again, which she answered with a spry kick that landed perfectly between his legs.
“You bitch!”
He shouted as his arms retracted to his pelvis. Beside her, he collapsed, hunched over where he writhed in pain. The last of them took a step back. It all happened so quickly and he seemed to struggle to process the shift in tempo. He blinked several times, unsure of his predicament. His body was jumpy and his breath was quick.
When Ezabel picked herself up, she too, found everything to be quite astounding. This was the first time that she had been mentally present in a situation this high strung (She did not include the courtyard incident on the count of her spotty memory). It was nerve racking, but a tiny sliver of excitement shone through. That is, until the sound of steel rang deep. The last sellsword drew his blade.
Instantly, the gravity of the situation rose to an unneeded level. There was no thrill. Ezabel swallowed a breath of dry air. The weapon flashed with reflections of the bar around them. And in it, she caught a glimpse of the sellsword at her feet, whose sword laid beside him. She hesitated, but took it between her fingers and freed it of its sheath. Her instincts saw that it fell into a firm grasp, and that its blade stood upright for her eyes to examine. Its edges were poorly maintained; they were marred and blunt, the textbook indications of haphazard owners.
Her last wish here was to exchange blades, but her confidence rose slightly when she realized the competency, or lack thereof, she was dealing with. They may have been sellswords, but they were certainly ill-trained and ill-managed. - Her opponent lifted his sword and sprinted forth. Uncertainty clouded his arm. Did he even want to fight? Of his companions, he was the only one left standing. And, their folded frames only served to wrench the right from his mind.
So, he shouted at the top of his lungs when he brought his blade down. Steel tolled as swords met. Ezabel took the strike head on, catching it and immediately parrying. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she deflected the attack forward which saw that her opponent stumbled out of his footing. But, he gritted his teeth and lunged once more, only for Ezabel to shift herself away from his path.
“Wait, wait!”, she shouted with her weapon behind her. “I’m sorry! This is too much!”
“You start all this and expect me to stop!? Look at my friends!”
“Me? You started this!”
She was absolutely taken aback. But, her words fell as flat as the sellswords’ on the floor. The last of which, continued to push in her direction. His weapon swept wildly throughout the pub. Ezabel kept him at a distance, refusing to tangle herself with such recklessness. With practiced footwork she weaved through the tables, herding the man into a corner, back against the bar. When the ledge dug into his back, a stroke of desperation waved his sword ahead in a flurry of incoherence. Strangely, he almost resembled the old sheep herder.
“I swear I’m going to cut--!”
His voice broke off that moment and his eyes began to roll backwards into their sockets. He fell in a slump and dropped his blade, which rattled like old tin until it fell flat. On the other side of the bar and in complete disbelief, Dani watched the sellsword until he sank out of consciousness. Raised in her hands was an old cast iron pan, which had now been dented.
Neither Ezabel nor Dani could really comprehend the last fifteen or so seconds. It all happened too quickly. However, between them was a shared grin, as if the whole ordeal was actually a bit amusing. It was safe to say that they were on edge for the better part of the thrill. And, on edge they remained when the cold ring of steel chimed once again.
“Behind you, Ezabel!”
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