A tense silence followed that was begging to be broken by a follow up question. Patrick stared around the room trying to make eye contact with individuals as if seeking permission to ask it. Everybody was suddenly very interested in the upholstery, or the labels on their drinks. Patrick opened his mouth to try ask the question but thought better of it when he saw the sneer on Marius’ usually happy face.
The silence hung for a moment longer, before a heavy sigh from Grunt.
“Grunt is as eloquent as always. Let us not dwell on those topics on what should be a night of celebration and revelry.”
The look Ulman gave Patrick was very clear.
Not a topic for now.
Patrick gave a slight nod to confirm he understood as he fumbled for a way to break the silence.
“I, uh, think I was going to tell you what I was going to do with my share of the money. I guess I sort of just need to buy new clothes, and get accommodation?”
Ulman booed and threw some paper at Patrick trying to lighten the mood.
“Boring, boring. We’ll make sure you get those. What are you going to get? Magical items? Exotic artwork? Perchance a script personally written by a playwright outlining your deeds of bravery to date?”
Patrick let out a genuine laugh.
“I have literally no idea what I can even get. I don’t even understand the currency system here. I think I’ll just need to have a wander around the shops to see what there is.”
Marius put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, trying to hide the fact he was still plagued by whatever dark thoughts he was lost in.
“Did I hear that once we are back in Tyril, we need to go shopping?”
“No, Patrick needs to go shopping.” interjected Svenja.
“And let him swipe any good deals meant for us? No Svenja, I agree. We must take Patrick shopping once we’re settled back in Tyril. I will insist on it.”
“I hate this.”
“No, everyone loves a shopping episode.”
With the tension in the room somewhat broken, a level of merriment returned. Ulman made a point of refilling everyone’s drink, as the topic of conversation turned to the best way to teach Patrick everything he needed to know. It initially began with people just shouting advice at him that made almost no sense without context.
“It’s illegal to do at night or on weekends, but totally fine in the morning.”
“A slip-side up will get you punched dockside, but it’s what you order in the Merchants district.”
“Fletchers is a debaucherous adult only venue in the slums while Fletcher is where you want to go for arrows.”
“The currency is straight forward. 1 gold is worth 10 silver, and 1 silver is worth 100 copper. Except when someone asks for three-fifty, don’t trust them.”
Patrick’s head was spinning with all the information, and a part of him regretted drinking due to the fear of not remembering anything of this in the morning. It got even worse when Marius rolled out a blackboard trying to draw diagrams to help explain to Patrick in further detail. Ulman and Marius would fight over the chalk, as Svenja heckled their drawings, and Grunt correcting their spelling.
The night continued to devolve. Patrick found himself standing on one of the couches which they had rearranged to allow them to play some sort of drinking game. Everyone stood on coaches that lined with the room, with pillows on the floor acting as stepping stones. The rules didn’t make any sense at all.
Patrick and Grunt were on one team wearing pots and pans on their head, while Svenja and Ulman were on the other wielding mops. Marius was playing a role called ‘The Wisp’, and acted as the officiator, despite one of the rules being they needed to catch him. Every time Patrick thought he was in touching distance, Marius would make a call that either his drink was too full, or it was too empty. Patrick was even penalised once for being smaller than Grunt, which made everyone cheer as everyone was sent back three couches.
“Ok, Patrick and Grunt. You have three spaces to move.”
Grunt nimbly leapt across the couch, which was very clearly only one move, before turning to Patrick and gesturing for him to follow. Swaying on the couch, Patrick went to move before he was interrupted by Marius.
“Time penalty! Too slow!”
“That’s bullshit! I was moving!”
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“Arguing with the officiator. Penalty question. Incorrect answer means you move two couches back. Further talking back requires a shot of Golem Tears.”
Patrick blanched at the threat. He had been made do a shot of the most foul-tasting drinks known to this world. The group has excitedly told him that it wasn’t actually made of Golem tears but was just strong enough to make Golems cry.
“Question for our Wanderer. I ask you for 3 gold and 5 silver, what do you gi-“
“I DON’T TRUST YOU” Patrick yelled back triumphantly
Everyone raised their hands and cheered.
“We don’t trust you lake monster!”
The game continued to deteriorate the more they drank. It almost came to blows when Marius deemed Svenja was having too much fun despite being on the losing team, and ordered her back a couch. She began trying to threaten Marius, who began penalising Ulman for letting her have too much fun. Svenja and Ulman ultimately were forced to retreat, and giving up valuable couch space, once Marius began chasing them with the bottle of Golem Tears.
Patrick stood on the edge of the couch watching the chaos, a big goofy grin plastered on his face. For the moment, he had stopped thinking about home. He had stopped thinking about how crazy this world was. The only thing he really cared about now was how much fun he was having as he watched Marius corner Svenja as she began begging for forgiveness.
It was the first time in quite a while he felt happy. It definitely wasn’t a result of the copious amount of drink he had consumed. He actually didn’t have that much. Thinking about it, he could probably have another swig of something...
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The pounding in his head grew worse. He groaned. Everything hurt. Why was it so bright?
Patrick couldn’t even open his eyes. They refused to open at the fear of the pain of what the world would bring.
His mouth was so dry.
Patrick didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was… he couldn’t remember.
A rumble shook through wherever he was. Even the sound of it hurt his head.
Another rumble.
Oh god. It’s the garbage truck. It must be bin day.
He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand to see what time it was, but felt his hand collide with someone.
Oh no. Who did I go home with last night? Where did I even go last night?
Patrick’s thoughts were a mess. He’d had the weirdest dream. Dom probably talked his ear off about the new fantasy series he was reading, and incepted the dream of another world.
Another rumble.
Patrick forced his eyes open as he squinted at the bright light in the room.
The world turned. Even though he was lying down, it felt like he was going to slide to the side and off the edge of whatever he was lying on.
Oh god. It wasn’t a dream.
The lounge room of the airship was in a terrible absolute state. Pillows were strewn everywhere, with several of the couches upturned to make room in the centre of the room. The half-hearted attempt at a blanket fort was evident, as a pile of pillows and blankets surrounded the sleeping group of Patrick, Grunt, and Marius. Ulman was curled up on top of a desk by the window, and Svenja was nowhere to be seen.
I need water so badly.
Gingerly picking himself up to avoid waking Grunt and Marius, Patrick felt like a baby deer taking his first steps towards the stairs. His knees almost buckled at the daunting sight of the twelve steps flight of stairs. Second Wind sent a momentary surge of energy through him, although did nothing for his headache. He gritted his teeth and begun ascending the stairs.
What felt like hours, days, or even months later he finally reached the top of his stairs and pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the door at the top. A sheen of sweat covered him from the exertion of the stairs alone, but he knew water was almost in reach.
The door opened to reveal Svenja sitting at the island eating from a bowl.
Patrick surprised to see her there, flinched.
“Sorry, didn’t expect to see you here. Good morning, I was just getting some water” he croaked.
“It is not a good morning.”
“No, it really isn’t” agreed Patrick ruefully. “Are you feeling as rough as I am?”
Svenja looked at him.
“No. You look like you have been spat out by a Kraken.”
“Yeah, I feel rough. I’m not even sure what the last thing I remember is.”
Svenja grinned at him like a predator.
“Oh, you don’t remember everything you told us last night?”
A deep chasm opened in Patrick’s stomach as the fear hit him. He groaned and put his head in his hands.
“No, and I’m not sure I want to know. Was it bad?”
“I think we all the appreciated the ‘I love you all so much’ as your hair was held back as you got sick, especially when you began emphasizing what you loved the most about each of us.”
Patrick wished the chasm in his stomach would just swallow him completely. He did have a vague memory of that.
“Here, drink this. If you tell anyone I have any, or that I gave it to you, I will shoot you with a proper arrow.” as Svenja slid a small dark bottle across the table.
“What is it?” enquired Patrick as he picked it up suspiciously.
“Hangover tonic.”
He took a tentative sip despite the protest of his stomach and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. It had a light citrus taste that left a pleasant tingling sensation in his mouth.
“This is really good. What’s in it?”
“I have seen the way you react to normal food here. If I tell you, you won’t finish it.”
Patrick eyed the bottle. This hangover was currently worse than death, he’d take his chances as he downed the bottle.
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The tonic was a miracle. Within only a few minutes of taking it, Patrick felt the hangover begin to recede and his stomach began to settle. After the ten-minute mark, Patrick felt like he hadn’t even been drinking alcohol the night before and gotten a good night sleep on top of it.
“That tonic is amazing!”
“And expensive. You owe me 15 gold for it. I’ll take it off the balance I owe you once we reach Tyril.”
Patrick didn’t even question it. He would have paid twice that amount to get rid of the hangover despite still not fully understanding the currency. A quick rummage around the cabinets landed him a few pieces of fruit he had tried the day before, and some cold cuts of meat that he decided he was too hungry to question the origin of.
The next person to surface and come upstairs was Ulman, looking incredibly dishevelled. He barely acknowledged Patrick and Svenja as he did his best Grunt impression. He flicked his hand, as spectral hands materialised out of thin air, and began pulling items out of the cabinets. The symphony of hands pulled various fruits, vegetables, and elixirs together, and begun juicing them.
Combining them all into a glass, Ulman waved his hand over it as it glowed slightly, before he grimaced and downed the concoction in one. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples.
“By the blood of the Ascendants, that was foul. A night I fear I shall not be repeating any time soon. I would have paid an extravagant amount for a Hangover Tonic, yet I believe a Vigor Tonic will do me just fine.”
“How much does a Hangover Tonic go for?” innocently asked Patrick as he watched Svenja.
“A good one would go for about 5 gold, but I’d easily have paid double that.”
Patrick shot a very pointed look at Svenja who just shrugged as if saying ‘What are you going to do about it?’ and returned to her food.
Ulman, who was completely oblivious just continued.
“We are less than a day from Tyril, Patrick. I understand Marius’ may be keen on continuing your training today, but if you so wish we can spend some time going over the so called ‘rules of the city’ should you be so inclined, and mentally capable following the night of extraordinary drinking.”
Patrick nodded. He would definitely prefer getting a grip on the rules of society of this world and would break up a day of fighting his nemesis, the catapult dummy.
“That would be great Ulman. I remember a fair bit from last night but wouldn’t mind going over some of the key points again.
“I’m surprised you remember much at all. If my calculations served me correctly, you drank the most apart from Grunt. A fine constitution you have if you can deal with it this well. Be careful however, [Alcoholic] is not a desirable Class.”
As if hearing his name, Grunt was the next up, and merely filled the sink with chunks of ice and water before dunking his head into it. Patrick smiled, before he realised a minute had passed, then two. He began getting slightly worried that Grunt had drowned himself in the sink, before the water began to rapidly decrease in level as Grunt drank it. Pulling his head out and shaking it like a dog, as everyone took cover to avoid getting drenched further.
Grunt nodded at everyone, before taking a whole joint of cooked meat that easily could have fed a family from the cabinet and began eating it like a chicken wing.
Finally, about an hour after Patrick had surfaced, Marius entered the room red eyed, and messy haired. Patrick tried to contain a giggle as he saw someone had drawn glasses on Marius’ face, alongside a very prominent lightning scar on his forehead, while Svenja snorted into her bowl that she managed to turn into a somewhat convincing cough. Fleeting memories came back as he remembered Marius had been the first to pass out in the half built blanket fort, as Patrick convinced Ulman to lend him one of his pots of ink.
Marius stared at them all suspiciously.
“Why are you all looking so fresh? What are you all smiling at?”