"Who made him the boss anyway?!" I ask with a small hiccup, chugging back the ale.

Kurky lets out a small laugh, "Well, he's not, Meli. We are all free to do what we wish."

I groan, laying my head on my arms. "Are you already drunk? C'mon now, I wouldn't think four things of ale would take you down." Kurky lets out a hardy laugh, nudging me with his small elbow. He downs his fifth ale with a gulp playing with the small goblet.

"Don't mock me, shorty." I scoff.

"I'm not mocking; I am just stating what I see." He says proudly.

I turn over, laying my cheek against the cold counter, the world slightly more blurry than before.

A soft lute plays in the background while the rumble of chatter drowns it out slowly. Slamming of goblets and clanking of dishes ring through the old building. Bellowing laughter and giggling ladies is an ear-piercing sound.

"Why does everyone have to be so loud." I huff.

"Uh," Kurky scratches his bald head, "It's a Tavern?"

"Can I help you to anything else, my dear?" A kind voice speaks clearly.

I lean up to see a ginger elven lady with boobs the size of my head cleaning a goblet. Her eyes were bright and lively, and freckles covered her complexion. Her clothing was modest and covered her up to her neck. Her dress had tears and rips on the long sleeves from age, but it was still presentable enough for a barkeep. I felt myself envy her to some degree since the Gods didn't bless me in those departments; my breasts were a little smaller than average.

"No, thank you." I smile up to her before peering over to Kurky, "You, Kurky?"

Kurky's face was beet red, and his drink was turned upside down as he chugged the ale. He slams it on the counter, staring at the barkeep. Or more or less the barkeep's breasts.

"I am assuming that means a no." She places the cloth behind the counter, slamming the goblet down. She places her hand on her hips, leaning against the counter. Her eyebrow was cocked upward, and her eyes switched between Kurky and me.

"Actually," I begin awkwardly, "do you carry any wine?"

I remember when I was younger, my father always spoke of elven wine. He told me stories of my mother and him running off to drink in the forest where he had met her. He spoke of its sweetness and how smooth it was. I have always wanted to try it, but my father told me he hadn't had it in years since my mother had left.

"Wine?" she turns her attention to me, "We use to. Sometimes we get a crate or two in, but it doesn't last long in these parts. Since the war started back up, it all goes to the soldiers."

Kurky raises his eyebrows, twiddling with the cup in front of him.

"A war?" I ask, tracing the rim of my cup with my pointer finger.

She flashes me a baffled look, leaning up from the counter. "You two really aren't from around here, huh?" I look to Kurky, whose face is just as confused and intrigued as mine. "Well, I guess that would make sense, him being a gnome and you a half-elf." She peers off into the corner playing with her dangling earring in thought. She glances back to us, crossing her small arms under her breasts. Kurky clears his throat, gazing off into the tavern. I mentally roll my eyes and give the lady my attention.

"The war has always been a thing since I can remember." She begins, "Apparently, it has gone on indefinitely between the two Fey sisters of this realm. The ruler of the Unseelie Court is Queen Lyra, and the ruler of the Seelie Court is Queen Elora."

"They're sisters?" Kurky chimes in, avoiding eye contact, "Why are they constantly fighting?"

"Yes." She answers, "Mostly their difference of opinions and views; Queen Lyra is definitely more chaotic while Queen Elora is more strict. No one really knows exactly why they fight so much, but many people hate it." She lets out a small sigh, her eyes faltering, "Many people's lives have been lost to this pointless war. Many want it to stop and do not care for it, while others despise the Seelie and would fight forever if they could. Of course, it goes both ways."

"So it's never stopped?" My brows furrow.

"We have periods of peace." She nods, picking her rag up from the bar, "Normally, they will last for a year or two, but this past decade has shown otherwise." She lets out a breath, "It's gotten so much worse in the passing years. I'm unsure if we'll ever get a peaceful year again."

"Oh, I see." I slump, taking another gulp of ale.

"Just keep your heads up. At least you're just passing through." She gives a sad smile, turning to walk away.

I glance at Kurky, who now was watching her bum closely as she trudged away to the other side of the bar.

"Foul." I shake my head, too buzzed and in deep thought to really care.

"I can't help it. She's just mesmerizing." He defends himself, coughing.

"Yeah, yeah." I wave him off, annoyed at how disgusting he is.

Years and years of war is a sad existence. Maybe it will come to resolve soon. I stare off in thought.

The candle's warm glow illuminates the tavern in a yellow-orange tint. A group of men play a game, ladies fan themselves in the corner of the room, and some couples were dancing along to the lute and drums. It seemed so relaxed in here. I felt relaxed. Or it could be the alcohol. Yeah, it's the alcohol.

The music comes to a close as the tall fellow playing the lute walks forward from the corner of the room. His curly hair was tied into a bun, and spirals of dark amber hair fell, framing his face. His cheekbones were angular, his jawline prominent. He was attractive, to say the least. I bit my lip, rolling it between my teeth.

"Good day; how about a bit more dancing music before I leave, eh?" His voice was warm and smooth. His words rolled off his tongue like sickly sweet honey, swooning everyone in the room. Mostly swooning me. His presence demanded attention. He strummed his lute, causing the audience to look up from what they were doing. I watch his movements with awe. He was flashy and out there, with grand gestures as he played. He cocked a sly smile, plucking the strings with elegance.

"Seems I'm not the only one ogling over someone," Kurky states in a hushed-toned, smiling through his sip of ale.

I snap from my trance, "I am not ogling, Kurky." I roll my eyes, turning back around to the bar. I steal another glance at the man and giggle, "Well, maybe I am."

Kurky chuckles shaking his head, "You are drunk."

"I am tipsy, actually." I correct him.

"If that's what you call tipsy," He starts, "I would hate to see you drunk." I let out a small giggle, my face flushed with heat from the alcohol. I turn back and watch the young bard in amazement. He finishes the song with a harmonizing cord, turning his lute to the side. He raises his hands, taking an elegant bow to the crowd of people. The crowd claps loudly for the bard, cheering at his musical performance.

A smirk pulls at my lips, "I'm gonna go say hello." I state.

Kurky gulps his drink, turning to look at me, "Go ahead, it's your embarrassment." He nods his head.

I let out a breath of air, scooting the wooden chair across the floor with an ear-piercing screech. I stand to my feet, grasping the side of the bar with a firm grip. My head felt woozy, and the room spun as I scanned what's around me. My eyelids felt heavy, and honestly, with all the shit today, I'd really like to sleep. I let out a snicker at my uneasiness. It became blatantly obvious that Kurky was right. I don't care.

Kurky's eyebrows raise in my direction, scanning my face. "Maybe you should just stay seated for a while."

I giggle, facing him, leaning a little too close, "Shh," I shush him, bringing my pointer finger up to my lips, "That's no fun."

"Do what you want then," Kurky shrugs and turns his attention back to eyeing the barkeep, swirling his drink in his cup.

I stagger away from the bar, squeezing myself by the others around me. There were many different classes of people, or at least there seems to be. Some people look a little too fancy for a dusty tavern like this one. I smile to myself. They're probably just trying to look fancy and rich. I thought. My eyes land on my target, staring across the room to him. The bard stands tall, at least I think he does from this distance. His clothing is a foresty green color and with gold embellishes across the seams. A leather chest piece hugged his upper body bringing out his muscle definition. Around his neck, he wraps a reddish scrap of fabric. Fabric? No, it was a scarf, but it's so thin and thorn around the edges, it might as well be a torn piece of fabric.

I cross my arms under my chest, lifting my breasts a little higher. Straightening my back and boasting a confident smirk. I fumble in his direction, ruining my confident expression. He scratched the back of his neck, peering down to the drummer who sits on a wooden barrel.

"I would say that went well." He boasted. His voice was so smooth; it should be a crime. I step closer in their direction, my walking just as wobbly as before.

"Uh," I stammer, "Your performance was quite entertaining." He slowly turns his eyes to meet mine. They gleam colors of greens and browns in the dimly lit room.

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He lets out a chuckle, "Why, yes, I would hope so."

"I was wondering your name if you don't mind sharing?" My vision twists from the alcohol rushing through me. I actually wouldn't mind another drink.

He studies me for a moment, turning his body to face me directly, "My name is Farris." He crosses his arms, "Farris Usent."

I step closer, a little too quickly, my boot catching the ground below me. I balance myself with my arms outstretched as I let out a loud cackle. I stumble forward, nearly falling to the ground.

"Well fuck." I grab my side satchel, adjusting it. Farris lets out a breathless laugh walking towards me with his hand outstretched. He grasps my hand tightly in his, allowing me to steady myself.

"My dear, I believe you have had a bit too much to drink, hm?"

I peer up at him, my face feeling a little too warm. Now that he is closer, he is definitely tall. He towers over me even when he's looking down. I barely reach his neck. I hold his hand for support, steading my swaying body.

"Wow, he's so attractive." I huff out thoughtlessly, "And those lips..."

He chuckles, his adams apple moving up and down. "Excuse me?" His eyebrows raise as he intertwines his fingers with my own, "I mean, I already know, but you to be so forward is captivating."

My face burns so hotly I swear my skin will melt to the floor. My eyes flash back and forth between his in awe. My Gods, I said that aloud. My heart pounds in my chest, echoing into my ears.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to..." I trail off as he places his free hand's thumb on my chin, raising my head higher. Butterflies flutter in my gut and between my thighs.

Get a grip, Meli. I scold myself.

"Might I ask your name, my love?" His voice was like silk. My Gods, no one has had me like this in my life; it is honestly humiliating.

I let out a breath, "My name is Meli."

"Ah, sweet Meli," Farris growls, his eyes flashing between mine. I'm speechless. His hand leaves my chin, and he brings my fingers down to grasp his fingertips. They were calloused from, I assume, his lute playing.

"Well, I have other things to attend to before morning, so with that, I bid you a farewell," he leans down with a bow, giving my knuckles a light peck, "My enchanting Meli." Farris gives me another bow, stroking his thumb across my fingers. Finally, he lets go of my hand, allowing it to fall to my side, before heading toward the exit. I couldn't believe what had just happened and how my body ached. I felt like royalty, and I honestly craved more. I bit my lip and turned to walk back to the bar. Suddenly the drunkenness returns, and I feel myself sway back and forth once more.

Kurky, still positioned where he was, sips on his ale. Crane stood beside him, his body leaning against the wooden bar, a fresh new ale placed in front of him. I let out an excited giggle, grabbing Kurky's shoulder.

"Did you see that?!" I boast.

He smiles, "Not really."

"C'mon, there's no way you didn't see that!" I point in the direction I came from.

Crane scoffs, "Can't even handle your ale. Such a child."

"You're such an old party downer." I cross my arms, puffing my chest.

"I am not old!" Crane glares at me. I must have struck a nerve. I mentally brag.

"I'm only thirty-three." He states coldly, turning back to his ale.

I must be really drunk. I ponder. Crane's hair fell in blonde short waves, and his lips were full. They cupped to the side of the goblet almost perfectly. I stared at the side of his face in wonder, noticing how defined and sharp his jawline is. He definitely had a more husky appearance than Farris. Cranes hands are bulking and angular, and his fingers tap on the bar lightly. Crane turns his attention to me, his eyes looking me up and down in confusion.

"Can you not stare at me so intensely?" He furrows his brows, his lips curling.

I didn't even realize how much I was staring at him, nor did I realize that Crane is also an attractive man. I probably couldn't overlook his snarky coldness to realize it sooner. I must be really drunk, not in my right mind, or just plain horny. Maybe all three. My face rose in temperature again as I tear my eyes from Crane. I gaze down to the wood on the bar, still standing on the other side of Kurky.

Kurky stands from his spot, staggering for a second before slamming the cup on the counter. "Tonight," He speaks, his speech dragging, "was definitely eventful." He hiccups, pausing for a moment, " I am going to sleep." There is no telling how many drinks Kurky has had since I walked over to talk to Farris. But, from the way he's talking, he's definitely had too much.

"I agree we need sleep for tomorrow." Crane states.

"What's tomorrow." I stifle a giggle at how much Crane is a killjoy.

He sighs, "We'll talk more about it in the morning."

"Well, I'm getting another drink!" I exclaim.

Crane stands from his seat, brushing his robe off, "No, you're going to bed."

I roll my eyes in frustration, "You're not the leader or the boss of any of us." I grasp Kurky's unfinished drink.

"No, but apparently, I am the only one here with common sense and actual intellect" Crane finishes his drink and places the chair back under the bar.

"I am drinking." I disregard his rudeness.

"Meli, you're already drunk." Crane reaches toward me.

"Ugh, you're both too loud." Kurky huffs continuing to the rooming hall.

I place the cup to my lips, attempting to chug the ale. Instead, Crane grabs my wrist and pulls it roughly in his direction. I stagger toward him, fighting his tight grip.

"You're so shitty!" I screech at him.

"And you're idiotic and nothing but trouble." He leans close to my face, snatching the ale from my hand.

He smells like winter. Is that even a smell? His scent is like fresh snow. It's pleasant but burns your nostrils if you inhale too much. My mind couldn't stop running with how attractive he actually is or how I liked how he grabbed me so tight? Gods, I am so drunk. This better be gone by tomorrow.

"Go to bed, Meli." He demanded. I yank my wrist from his grasp, backing away from him. People were now staring directly at us with whispers, and I really didn't care.

"Fine, but I am only doing it because I want to and because I am tired." I bark; I teeter away from him, nearly tripping over air.

"Whatever makes you happy." Crane draws out a sigh, rubbing his temples.

I walk toward the hallways Kurky had left, looking for my room number. Kurky and I had already bought a room for the night before we began drinking, so our rooms were beside each other. The hallway was just as dimly lit as the rest of the tavern. I study the numbers engraved on the doors as I pass them, stopping on a crooked fifteen. I hobble inside as my muscles and feet ache and throb. It better be a better day tomorrow.

◈ ◈ ◈

My brain throbbed in my skull. Its panging made me rub my forehead, attempting to massage the pain away. I had way too much to drink last night and also made a fool of myself. My stomach turns at remembering my encounter with Farris.

It's fine; the likeliness of me actually seeing him again is slim to none. I brush off the fuzzy memories.

Crane, Kurky, and I stood in the hallway, preparing to leave the tavern. Crane fidgets with his bag and the old torn-up book while Kurky lays draped across a bench that was placed against the wall.

"So, when are you gonna tell us where we're going, Crane?" I adjust my staff-turned walking stick on my hip.

Crane ties his robe off at his hip, rolling down his long sleeves, "The capital." He says blandly, not reaching my eyes.

"Capital? And why is that?" I finish braiding my hair, loosely tieing it.

"I am interested in what's going on here." he begins, "If we help, maybe we can get something in return."

"That's shady." I peer into him; a weird feeling pulls at me.

"Think what you want; you don't have to come." He glares, his blue eyes scanning my face.

When his eyes reach mine, heat flushes my cheeks as I remember my thoughts from last night. I still think he is handsome, and I'm sober. Crane is nine years older than me. I find myself disturbed at finding him this attractive. I am unsure if it is just his eyes, blonde hair, or scruffy beard. Either way, I'm not too fond of it. I turn away, sitting down on the bench beside Kurky.

"You're so loud." Kurky groans, rolling to his side.

"We're just talking, not even loud, Kurky." I huff.

"Sounds like yelling to me." He whines.

"This is why you two shouldn't have decided to drink so irresponsibly last night." Crane leans against the wall.

"I am completely fine," I state, ignoring my throbbing headache.

Crane rolls his eyes, dismissing my statement. "We should head out."

"Fine." I nudge Kurky with my elbow, shaking him slightly, "You just gonna sleep here?"

He lifts his arms like a toddler, reaching for me. "Carry me." He whines, his eyes still closed.

"No way in the Nine Hells." I stand up, brushing my hands against my clothing.

"Ugh." He groans, rolling over to stand, "I thought we were friends."

"Acquaintances." I correct him, following after Crane.

"That's cold." Kurky shakes his head with a smirk, wobbling after me.

The three of us walk through the rest of the town, taking in the sights. The buildings were almost identical to the ones at the entrance of the small town. Vines and dead bushes were everywhere. The sight of the wilted vegetation saddens me to some degree. The people around us walk with haste; others drag along a servent. Not a servant, a slave. The view continues to twist my heart.

If we are headed to the capital, maybe I can discuss with Queen Lyra about the slaves and how unethical it really is. I ponder, I mean, it is disgraceful, and a ruler couldn't be okay with it. Maybe she just doesn't know about the slave trade going on in her kingdom?

"So what town is this again?" Kurky places his arms behind his back, fidgeting with his sleeves, "I don't even think I bothered to ask anyone." He chuckles to himself.

"The city of Theya Omen," Crane speaks blankly, flipping through the pages of his dusty book.

"It surely is a dry-looking town for it to be so muddy." I look at the roadsides where mud is slopped up in mounds and back to the cracked brick below us.

Silence falls back to the three of us as Cranes pace slows down a bit. The other entrance to the town slowly appears in front of us. The same arches cover the gate, and four guards stand in front of it. Two were at attention, studying the surroundings intensely. In contrast, the others laughed and snorted loudly. The guard nods his head toward us as a sign of "good day." At least that's what I was assuming.

The sky was the same as before; purples and oranges paint the sky and horizon. The sun is barely visible toward the skyline. It glows just as beautiful as before. Trees overhang on the path, and the same little white flowers dance in the breeze. The once stone brick path was now dirt and gravel, but mostly dirt.

"We should probably stay alert," Kurky states, pulling a dagger from the band around his leg.

"I agree," Crane looks back to him, slowing down his gate to match ours.

"Well, that makes me uneasy." I groan aloud.

"We are in an unknown land, in the middle of a forest," Kurky states, as a matter of fact.

"I know that," I trail off in a mumble. "You two weren't this careful before."

"You decided to ask a treant for directions," Crane smirks my way, "You're lucky he was willing to help. Kurky and I were very careful, and it was you who was not."

My eye twitches, "I'm getting really sick of your remarks."

Crane lets out a laugh smiling to himself. He turns back and continues to walk, ignoring my statement—Kurky chuckles beside him light-heartedly. I cross my arms, knowing he wants to get under my skin. Which he is, and he knows it. I trudge beside the two, ignoring the frustration in my chest. The first time he smiles or laughs, and he is making fun of me, how typical.