Neal O’Connell was strange; he was after all a human. Not that humans were uncommon in this world. His appearance was normal enough, light freckled skin, brownish red hair that was rare in Illania but not unheard of, greenish eyes, and at five-foot ten the higher end of moderate in size, for his race, still again average. Some might call him a typical Irish brat if such a place as Irland existed in this world. It was not his species or appearance that made Neal strange. If anything, it was his attitude and personality, neither of which fit with the rest of the scattered human clans across Illania. Which made sense because Neal was not of this world. Just over a year ago now, an accident transpired. An accident that brought Neal over into this world from his own.
As a young man, Neal had done what most other do in their early twenties and attended a university. To help pay for it he had joined an organization called, the Reserve Officers' Training Corps or ROTC for short. In his time there, he had made several efforts to study a few different areas of engineering, biology, even computer science hoping perhaps to duplicate the success of his two older siblings. Unfortunately, his studies did not go as well. Suffice it to say, this new world seemed to suite him better and in at least some respects was probably a blessing.
Despite the seeming lack of advanced technology, it was just easier here, and magic seemed to fill many of the gaps where science and engineering might fill, even if he personally couldn't use it.
Illania was a peaceful world with the last truly large and great war having been decided tens of millennia ago, by powers and beings long since forgotten, by most anyway. Even the long-lived queen and the princess barely knew the stories anymore.
There were of course some smaller battles and even so called wars across the land, such as the war of the two queens. But these were not battles in the truest of senses. Like what Neal and his people would wage. Death on the battlefield was a very rare thing in this world, more often an accident then true malice. It was almost a caricature of what war should be, as if pulled from a child’s fable or cartoon.
So then, what was this young man, trained in the art of a foreign type of war to do with himself in this peaceful world? He joined the guard of course, at least the only branch that would take him. The Lunar Guard, under the charge of his liege and protector, Luna. Perhaps it was because she felt guilty, it was after all her subordinate that brought him here. Maybe she just wanted to keep an eye on him, for his protection she would no doubt argue. But that slight blush of his would give away the truth that his lamentations of her were fun for her, in what was and would be an otherwise long and unchanging existence.
“Attention!” A wolf like man called out from the front of a formation. Two rows of guards flanked the golden yellow carpet that led up to the thrones, the seats of power for Illania.
At the end of the formation, near the smaller of the two seats, Neal found himself shocked out of his standing slumber. With a short yawn he did his best to shake the sleeplessness he felt and hoped that no one else had noticed. But of course, they all did. On his back, a powerful set of slaps threatened to knock him over as well as break his ribs.
"Got to stay awake, recruit!" The minotaur next to him smirked and laughed lightly with each impact. She was small, for a minotaur at least. Which still meant she was a few fingers taller than him at about six foot. Her face had a minor but prominent scar across it, stretching from her lower left cheek over her nose. Proof of a life spent brawling with the larger of her kind. Fully grown, a minotaur might get up to eight feet and a few inches. Being a dwarf of her race did not do her any favors in life. Still, even with her size, her strength could not be denied and on more than one occasion she had quite literally picked others up single handed, including Neal himself.
Her name was, "Mithril Hammer!” Neal struggled to speak between the slaps, “Come on, you have to stop hitting me so hard. You're way stronger than you look."
Several of the other guards laughed at both his response and her antics. It was one of the few times they would smile at Neal presence. Even if it was at his expense.
“Stuff it recruits! Your princess is in the room! You too guardsman.” Their wolfman captain, Sable barked at them. The training of his ROTC days kicked in and without even thinking, Neal felt his body straight up and face sharpened.
Mithril Hammer, Mith or Mimi for short, though she really didn’t like that last one, kept her mouth quiet at least. However, her lax stance didn’t change.
Recruit, that was actually his rank here, not just a moniker or nickname. Similar to a United States Navy - E-1, a “Seaman Recruit” or perhaps more accurately an E-1 private in the US army. Neal was fresh off the boat, to borrow an expression as tired as he. Even after a month, he still wasn't quite used to these night shifts yet.
On the other hand, Mithril Hammer was a 1st Class Guardsman. A step up from Recruit and perhaps something equivalent to maybe an E-2 or E-3, a Private 2nd or 1st class. The whole ranking system was far simpler than in the Navy or Army. It seemed almost absurd to compare the two world's militaries, at least aside from the pay, which was comparatively the same. Which is to say it was limited. For now, he was the lowest of the low, a lowly recruit in a foreign army, in a foreign land he was force to now call home.
Sable was a black wolf. His stature wasn’t tall, but he was still imposing. As captain of their little squad, he stood up strong and obedient in front of his master. “My princess. All guards are present and accounted for. We’re ready to begin the night patrols unless you have other assignments for us?”
The wolf was his usual formal and direct self. Of all the guard Neal had met in the evening guard, Sable was without a doubt the most stuck up and ridged. He was the very caricature of what an overly formal British soldier might be like. Even down to the absurdities.
Looking past the formalities, Luna genteelly smiled at the two guards at the end. Tring her best not to laugh. The princess knew Sable had to keep order and would have to keep them in line. Still their presences and antics did add just a bit of warmth to the cold nights.
“No. Thank you Sable. Your squad may begin their rounds.” The princess’s smile grew once more, before shrinking as she turned and took her seat on the lonely throne, waiting for petitioners who likely would not come.
The black wolf marched quickly down the line and stood in front of Neal, his amber eyes digging into Neal’s own with a silent fury. “Recruit, guardsman. Come with me. All other guards, begin your rounds.”
Neal knew exactly what was going to happen, as they walked out to the hallway. Away from the rest of the squad, sable began tearing into them.
“Recruit! Every night you’ve either been late or half asleep while you’re at your post. We are the protectorate guard of her highness’s court. Who is the second in line for the throne of Illania, Princess Luna. We are guardians of the castle after all others have gone to sleep. If you can’t take your duties seriously, then you have no business being here.” He briefly turned his glared towards Mithril as well, "Either of you."
To be fair to the captain, Neal was frequently late, and still wasn’t quite used to the late evenings. As much as he wanted Sable to lay off him, he understood why he wouldn’t and for that matter probably couldn’t. It wasn’t much different from the Navy ROTC program and the days he was late there were quite the same in the end.
With a disgusted shake of his head, Sable almost whispered, “Why they let a human into my unit I’ll never understand.” But managed to keep those thoughts to himself.
Sable was at least a little racist towards humans. A trait that seemed common among the people of Illania. Though, Neal had been shielded by the princess and her sister the queen. He had no idea just how deep that bigotry ran, nor understood its origins. For that matter, few others truly either.
“Yeah. Human, know your place!” Mith just didn’t know when to shut her mouth. Minotaurs were known for being brash and aggressive at times. But most knew how to keep some semblance of order or at least fake it. From her messy brown hair, that tended to clump into spikes and her longer than stander leg fur that should have been trimmed backed, to her armor that looked like it hadn’t been polished in months, if ever and which appeared to be in even poorer condition with one of it’s biding leather strap clearly broken and cruelly tied around itself as a not so temporary fix. Although maybe it was broken on purpose to help fit around her ample chest size of what was likely an under fitted chest plate. Regardless, it was obvious that the tiny semblance of minotaur order did not extend to Mith.
Sable turned his attention back to the short yet still rather tall beast woman, “As for you guardsman, we’ve talked about your attitude and jokes. We are a serious unit. If you can’t take your role seriously, then you can leave with the human over here once he finally quits.”
The captain looked over the two misfits in his unit, debating what he should do about them.
“The custodians of the castle work hard, certainly harder than you two. I’m thinking you can give them a break and work on their morning cleaning duties for the rest of the night. No, for the next week. You can get started on the bathrooms. When you’re done with that, move to the pantry in the second kitchen. I’ve heard there’s a smell.” As gross as it was, it might have been a fair punishment, for a day. A week was pushing it. Though, in the end, it probably would have ended up on his shoulders anyway. So far Sable hadn't trusted the human with anything resembling normal duties. Neal was hopeful that would change, eventually… Maybe.
The wolf fully turned his attention to Mithril, “Gaurdsman I need to talk to you more, in private. As for you Recruit, what are you waiting for a magic wand? Get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” Neal took off for the bathrooms. In his short few weeks, this wasn’t even the first time he had to clean them, and so he knew the fastest way to custodial closet. It was just ending his first month of service, and this was the third time he’d been tasked with this particular cleaning duty. Sable didn't even put forth the effort to make a different speech about taking the load off the custodians. For a while Neal thought it might have just been that he was new to the unit. He kept up his hopes, but more and more, he began to wonder if this just wasn’t how it would be.
A mop, a brush and two buckets. Just enough for the two of them. Neal smiled, at least he’d be able to choose what he would clean by being first to the closet. Mopping seemed easier than scrubbing with the brush, so of course that seemed preferable.
As he filled the buckets with hot water and a bit of soap, Neal considered the golden faucet in front of him. Like most things in the castle, it was opulent. This bathroom was a semi communal space, with multiple stalls, and sinks, meant for the large number of visitors the castle would see in a day. It was nice but compared to the even grander ‘throne rooms’ near the actual throne room. Compared to those, it might as well have been a bathroom in the back of a dive bar.
The clopping sounds of minotaur hooves echoed in the jeweled and tiled space. Behind him, Mith wandered in with something on her face that was not quite a frown. Neal had never really gotten a good look at her armor before. Certainly, he had seen it in passing, but in the light of the hallway light stones he could really make out the scuffs and marks in the purple, blue and silver colored chest plates. She had skipped the chainmail pants, opting for very thick hide and leather. He could recall that she had mentioned once how the mail links could get caught in her leg fur. A problem that perhaps could have been avoided if she groomed herself better. It was all a sign of her lazy disposition.
Occasionally, he had wondered why she was even here as it didn’t seem like the guards were really her goal in life. Assuming she even had a goal.
Though, his own armor was more alike than he cared to admit. In his defense, he might claim did at least try to take care of it. At the very least there were no dents or serious scratches, but it could have used a coat of wax and a buff. His own chainmail leggings were clean, but a few of the loops needed some attention and work. He could have dropped it off the castle armorer, but that would mean staying late and coming in early. Something he never really feel like doing.
"Who's doing the moping?" Mith was straight to the point. Shame for her, Neal was already holding the mop handle tightly. She'd have to pry it from his fingers, though, given her strength that wouldn't have been much of a challenge if she tried.
Neal smiled at her, and almost laughed, "Who do you think?"
The work went quickly once they came to an agreement on the split. Scrubbing at the walls and porcelain fixtures wasn't all that bad in the end, Neal had decided. Who needed the mop anyway?
Two hours later, and the first bathroom was clean; Spotless even. Out of the corner of his eyes, the jewel encrusted tiles seem to sparkle as the caught the light from the magic stones in the room. Neal couldn't help but smile a bit at a job well done, even though he hated cleaning, the sense of accomplishment was still worth something. Maybe when he washed up in the guard he'd have a future as a maid.
Neal turned to face Mith, "Next bathroom?" The question was rhetorical. Sable made it clear; every bathroom would have to be cleaned.
As they cleaned bathroom after bathroom, they would occasionally hear the steps of another guard outside the titled rooms. The footsteps echoing in the nearly deserted castle but for the most part they were alone. As boring as cleaning was, perhaps it was better than walking around in circles. At least, that was the convincing story he told himself. Mith seemed to have different ideas as she longingly stared at the passing guards each time they walked by.
Mith propped her head up on the mop’s handle and sighed, "You ever ask yourself why you joined the guards in the first place, Human?" The two hadn't talked much, and not just tonight either. Despite her friendly attitude towards him, they weren't really friends. At least Neal didn't think so.
The question caused him to pause between scrubs. "No." It took much longer than it should have to answer that question, as he went back to the glorified house chores.
Mith lifted her head and went back to pushing the mop around. "But, you've been here a month, and all Sable and Teuta have made you do, is clean. Everyone sees it."
A particularly irritating spot on the wall wouldn't come up no matter how much he focused on it and scrubbed at it. Neal hoped it wasn't something too gross as the bristles seemed to slowly chip away at the edges of the substance or perhaps that was his imagination.
Just behind him the suds on the floor pooled in a small depression as a puddle formed around it. The mop just seemed to push them around, as if Mith's heart wasn't really set on moving them out with the mop. "I've been thinking about resigning my commission, but I can't. My family would fully disown me. They’re the only reason I joined in the first place. Not that we get along."
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Now, Neal didn't know much about Minotaur society or family bonds, but he had begun to learn a trickle of them, at least about his guardsman partner. No doubt she was serious about the disownment. Despite their flamboyant and boisterous nature, honor was a core value to the minotaur people.
Neal tried to think of something, anything but the truth was "I joined because it felt like, something to do. Or rather that I had to do" He corrected himself.
Mith nodded at the simple answer and went back to moving the suds around, playing more than actually cleaning.
Neal thought about his answer for a moment longer, as he scrubbed at the same spot that refused to budge. Maybe it was just a discoloration in the wall title, but he was still too afraid to touch it and verify. He didn’t remember it being there last time. But this wasn’t an important bathroom, so maybe.
As he scrubbed he couldn’t help thinking about it more. His answer was true, spending a year living on the small allowance he received from Luna for the incident was, enjoyable. At least at first. But after a while it just felt like existing. Without purpose or reason, he didn’t see any reason to get out of bed anymore. The extravagant meals prepared by the castle even began to lose their flavor.
“But, no. That’s not completely right.” He had stopped scrubbing; it really was just a discolored title. “Back in my old world, I was training to be part of my country’s armed forces. I wasn’t very good at it, but there was something familiar about it. It just, seemed like a good direction. Something I needed to do, to finish.”
Despite the blemish this wall was finally clean, with a splash, he dropped the brush into his bucket, it was time to move to something else.
“I thought you were a scholar, going to a college or something?” Mith had stopped her cleaning too, though, given the state of the floor it was questionable if she really started.
“I was. My country had a program that would send you to school and then you’d enter the armed forces for a few years. It was a good choice, for people who couldn’t afford it otherwise.”
A snort escaped her nose, “A country full of warrior scholars. Don’t know if I should laugh or be afraid. Were you all mages or-“
“What are you two idiots doing?” Mith's conversation was cut short by the rather stealthy Dark Elf named Teuta. Teuta was a guardsman 2nd class, and basically the second in command of their squad after Sable.
“Just cleaning the bathrooms like Sable asked, sir. We’re about to move on the one up on the 3rd floor.” Neal gestured to the much cleaner bathroom, and their bucket full of brownish gray water.
“Well, it’s been four hours. Sable wanted me to look in on both of you. Wanted to know why you hadn’t moved on to the kitchen.” If you were being polite, you might call Teuta personality stoic. Neal would have just called him an asshole.
The human tried to hide his annoyance; the dark elf’s attitude seemed almost absurd. “Sir, it takes a while to clean the bathroom to the level that Sable wants. If we went quicker and skimped, he’d be up our asses about it and just make us redo it.”
Teuta began wandering around the large space, making note of the titles and faucets. He paused, right in front of the spot that Neal had been trying to wipe away.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a defect in the title, sir.” Neal protested.
Teuta, ran his fingers over the dark blemish before giving up. “Ok, I guess this looks good. How much longer do you think this will take?”
The human shrugged, “The rest of the night? It’s a lot of work for just two people. Sir.” It was difficult to tell what Teuta was thinking. Was he being pushy and hard on the two of them just because, or did Sable really ask him to come down and be a jerk.
Sable was pretty easy to read, his ridged inflexible personality radiated his underlying thoughts and emotions, all of which were disdained, at least toward him. But with Teuta, there was nothing there, just a shadow that blended with the other shadows in the night. Neal did find a certain amount of respect for his skills. Perhaps, if he had been on earth the elf may have found a place in the Rangers or Military Intelligence. Neal never had the chance to actually sit down with the elf and talk as equals so he really had no idea what the dark elf was truly like.
The minotaur snorted again, "Elf, bugger off so we can do our jobs." Mith was her usual pushy self. Which was not always the best choice even if it was her default. Neal could only shake his head at her antics. To her credit, she could at least read his body and sensed she needed to say something more. "Sir." She shrugged her shoulders at Neal bemusement before picking up her bucket and mop to head to the next bathroom.
Again, the dark elf's expression was solid and unmoving. His dark eyes seemed almost soulless, devoid of emotion and light. Physically Teuta seemed to be a fairly typical dark elf, about the same height as Neal, dark black hair down to his shoulders, and a dark gray skin that seemed to blend with the evening darkness. The only distinguishing mark was on his right hand, a series of scar tissue that ran up into his sleeve. If one had to guess, it was probably an old burn.
"Well, if there's nothing else Teuta I'm going to get the next bathroom. Hopefully we can get them done by the end of the night, sir." Neal walked past the elf whose gaze followed him as he left. It was kind of creepy the more he thought about it.
The elf called back to them as they turned the corner. "Sable wanted it all done by morning. I tell him you've been working on the bathrooms, but at the very least, you need to get all of them before you leave tonight."
It was frustrating, this really wasn't what he signed up to do. If he wanted to be a janitor, he could have just applied to do that. It would probably have paid better, not that he desperately needed the money. "We'll do what we can, sir." Neal jogged to catch up with Mith.
Bathroom, after bathroom. They were all generally the same once you left the first floor. The same titles, the same faucets, and toilets. The only real difference was the size, but even that was mostly the same.
Bong.
In the distance, a bell began to ring.
Bong.
It was the start of 6AM bell, and with this last bathroom, it meant their shift was finally over.
Bong.
Neal whipped at the sweat on his brow.
Bong.
They had to rush a bit in the end, but they were done.
Bong
All that was left was the second kitchen, but no doubt there would be more than that tomorrow. Sable would have other chores after that, he always did.
Bong.
With that last sound, they were truly done, until this evening.
A heavy slap hit Neal's back as his minotaur companion smiled down at him. "Come on recruit, we're done! Let's grab some beers." As tempting as the offer was it was also 6 o’clock in the morning. He was tired and didn't exactly like the thought of drinking in the morning.
"Sorry Mimi, I want to go to bed. Besides I don't like to-"
Without being asked, Mith picked Neal up and quite literally threw him over her shoulder. "I've told you not to call me that. Now come! Beer and ale await!"
In the hallway, several morning guards staired at the two. Murmurs and laughs at their expense could be heard. It was embarrassing, even more so since they seemed to be following them.
"Mimi-" Mith growled as he said that name.
Taking the hint, Neal shifted, "I'm sorry, Mith. I can walk put me down, this is embarrassing."
The minotaur sighed but complied. "You really should come hang out with the rest of the squad and have some drinks with all of us."
It wasn't what he wanted to do, or at least that's what he told himself. "I mean, I don't think they even like me."
"Probably not. But I don't like you either. Come on, let's get some drinks!" Her smile was nearly the size of her head. That same boisterous personality trait made that smile infectious. What were a few drinks between friends?
"Where are we going anyway? Don't the taverns all close at midnight?"
"Yeah, there's some law or other about that. The princess was able to get a few exceptions made. Something about her guard deserving to have a drink after their shift. General Torrent has something to do with it too, I think."
Torrent, that name was familiar. He was someone important, Neal knew that but couldn't recall meeting. "That name sounds familiar."
Mith gave a quick laugh, "It should, he's our general."
Not far from the castle, near the marketplace in a part of what was called the slums district, there was a rather run-down but otherwise normal looking tavern. On the sign in front of the main door was a pig, lying on top of a sideways tankard. Neal still had some trouble with the script they used in Illania. It was surprisingly like English but with subtle differences, that made it all the more confusing. The name seemed to be "The sleeping pig." Not exactly an imaginative name, he thought.
A slap on his back reminded Neal he was here to drink, not study the shoddy architecture.
"Come on recruit, the place looks run down, but the ale is top notch. The only place in the city I've found serves dwarven rock ale!"
He still wasn't quite familiar with the different drinks and food stuff in the world. He had overheard others talk about “rock ale” specifically during prior engagements, and during at least one ball even seen a few of the castle's guests lying on the ground after a few pints worth. It was dangerous stuff. Closer to malt liquor than a beer or an ale.
Opening the heavy wooden door, it was the smell of the place was the first thing to hit him. A yeasty, musty, sweet kind of smell, not unlike what you'd expect from an old pub. The inside was dim, lit with a combination of small torches and only a handful of light gems. Light gems weren't cheap, but the constant replacing of torches couldn't have been any cheaper. It seemed like an odd choice, maybe done more for aesthetics?
Around the bar were various creatures of the night. But most surprisingly all the evening guards were present, given uniforms and armor. Far more than just the 11 in their squad. It was still a far cry from the size of the other guards, but also far more than he ever expected to see in one place.
"Hey, it's the fucking human, and the midget minotaur." A whitish bat poked in their direction.
"Eh, go fuck yourself Ivy." Despite the words, there was what felt like warmth in both their voices. Ivy was a beast kin, a bat. Her fur was mostly white but with some gray coloration. She was one of the 11 in their squad, and to date, his interactions with her were not exactly pleasant.
A few others called out and jeered at them. It gave Neal a pause and made him reconsider his choice as he felt one of his feet begin to move backwards. However, Mith was quite insistent on at least one tankard with him before he left. Given the strength of her push, ‘no’ was not an answer.
"Come on human! Bar keep, 2 tankards of rock ale."
The bar tender was a rather pudgy elf, who to be blunt about it, didn't smell all that good even from their distance. But his smile was genuine as was his laughter, "ha ha, you think this human can handle his ale?"
The slamming of the two foamy concoctions reverberated around the splintering old hard wood top. Small splashes added to the many stains created over the decades. For a moment, it almost looked like the wood was smoking from the spilt liquid. He had to be imaging it, maybe the alcohol was evaporating from it, which was still not a good sign.
Sure, Neal mave have had a few drinks here and there since arriving in this world, but the last time he drank more than one in one sitting was back on earth, and none of those drinks were close to what this rock ale seemed to be. Suffice it to say, one tankard of the stuff was closer to 4 or 5 normal drinks.
The strong scent of alcohol helped mask the bitter taste of the malt with its own bitterness. It was hard not to huff and cough a bit at the first sip. The so-called ale had to be nearly 15% alcohol, or 30 proof.
Mith laughed as she slammed an empty tankard on the bar top, while Neal was still nursing his first. "What's wrong little man, can't hold your ale?"
"Mimi, this is liquor not ale." He took another sip. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, just quite strong.
Mith growled lightly at the name. Neal braced for a smack on his back that was no doubt several shades of blue already, but they never came.
"You know I hate that nickname. My brother used to call me that all the time. Still does. Usually before he hit me. It wasn't always nice, like the slaps I give you." Another empty tankard hit the bar top.
Drinking as fast as he could, Neal was just about to finish his first. He really wasn't sure about having a second, only for another tankard to be pushed in front of him anyway removing the semblance of a choice.
Mith dropped several coins on the bar top. "Recruits don't get paid shit, and I know you didn't really want to come out, so I'll get your first few."
Sighing, it was a nice gesture, even if he didn't really want to drink all that much. "Thanks, Mith. You know… I was never big on going to bars even in my old world. Just wasn't my scene." Taking smaller sips than Mith did, he really was coming around to the taste. It was like strong IPA, but just a tiny bit sweeter. For a moment he studied his minotaur companion, the scar on her face seemed even more prominent in the dim lighting. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his lips opened a bit more than perhaps they should. "Did your brother cause that scar. You had mentioned he hits you and you had it since you were kid?"
Rubbing at her face, she laughed. "My mother, actually. But my brother was the cause of that argument. I wanted to do something different. My height… Even in school I knew there was no chance of me getting into the High Guard. Which is all my parents cared about. I thought, maybe I could do construction. But my mother had another idea. She started sparing and… I don't think she meant to cut me so deeply." Mith shrugged and took a longer swig of ale. "Just a common thing all minotaur go through, growing up."
The tankard sat on the bar as he thought about the story for a moment. His own home life was far from perfect yet compared to that he was suddenly a bit grateful. "My parents never hit me, but they were never really happy with how I turned out."
Mith’s eyes almost went wide with disbelief. "You went to college, and were training to be in your country's army what more could they want?"
"It isn’t that simple. Going to college was just something you did in my world. Everything was more complicated over there. Going into the military was just a way you could pay for it. My brother and sister both went to college on full scholarships, I was the odd one out. Even my little brother is probably going to have a full scholarship when goes."
"What's a scholarship?"
"Basically, someone pays you to go to school. Sometimes it's the school, sometimes a business. It's usually reserved for the best students. Which I wasn't." Another tankard was empty. He wasn't the greatest with math, but that had to be close to 10 beers worth of alcohol or a good 10 shots. He could feel the alcohol buzzing though his head. If it was up to him, he wouldn't have had another.
The slamming of a third tankard in front of him showed it wasn't really up to him.
He continued his story, holding off taking another sip right away, "It's been a year since I disappeared. I doubt they're even looking for me anymore. Assuming they even did in the first place." Another sip he probably shouldn't have taken.
"How did you get here anyway?" Mith's words were beginning to slur a bit. She had to be on the fifth drink by now. It hadn't even been an hour yet, close though.
"Coruscis, that fucking rabbit. She’s one of Luna's mages and scholars. I still don't know all the details but… I know it was an accident. Honestly, I don't like thinking about it. It wasn't a good day for me. For a lot of reasons." Another sip. His face felt warm, and there was a slight wave running through the floor. Like they were standing on a ship birthed to a shore. "I guess Luna took pity on me, because none of the other guards would take me. She's really cute and nice like that."
Without meaning to, a smile crossed over his lips at her name. Mith seemed to catch it, as her own smile grew.
"Haaaa, someone has a crush on the princess." Mith laughed and once more hit as his back.
"I don't have a crush on her, she's just… cute." This ale was really getting to his head now. "That year I was here, she helped me. A lot. You know she's really lonely, but also really nice. It's not fair that someone as nice as her is so alone." His lips didn't want to move right, like they were getting numb.
For several moments, the two sat at the bar. Finishing their last drink. Around them, most of the guards had gone home or off to other assignments. Even in his drunken haze, Neal wondered what time this place would close. Would it even close?
"You know… You know… there are other women out there more accessible than the princess." Mith nursed at her own drink some more. Not quite pounding it like the last one.
"Like who?" He rubbed his hands over his eyes. Things were starting to spin, that wasn't good. "I think I'm getting drunk."
"Ha, light weight." She looked at her nearly empty cup. "Fuck it." With that she slammed the last of tankard down and flagged it off.
"I'm not a light weight, minotaur's are just freaks of nature." Neal did the same, with his tankard. As he tried to get up, a strange sensation came over him, as it suddenly felt like he was walking up the wall. He had to be walking up the walls, how else would he be staring up at the ceiling?
"Come on recruit, let’s get you home." Mith reached down on wobbly legs and picked the poor human up and over her shoulder again. The few remaining guardsmen laughed at the sight and at least one clapped.
"Where do you live anyway?" There was just a muffled response, "Hey human?"
"Ugh, the way you're carrying me is making the spins worse… On the other side of the castle, I've got a small apartment."
She thought for a moment, "Other side of the… that's two kilometers away, I'm not walking there. Isn't like an expensive area too?"
"I don't know. The crown pays for it. They said it was the least they could do for the inconvenience."
Mith started walking, Neal couldn't tell what direction, but if he had to guess it was in a giant circle, given the way his head felt.
"I've got room on my floor. Come on human. You can be like my pet!"
The walk was comfortably uncomfortable, in a way that was hard to explain. He felt safe in the minotaur's arms, but also, quite sick to his stomach.
If Neal could see the apartment complex, he would not have been impressed. Much like the pub it was a similarly run-down two-story structure. The bouncing sensation as Mith climbed the stairs did not do his head and stomach any favors. At this point he was going to be sick; it was just a question of where at this point.
The inside of her rather small apartment smelled musty, like unwashed clothes. The sink had a few dishes which didn't help much. "Welcome to my place make yourself at home."
Setting Neal down on the floor, he did just that, by evacuating the contents of his stomach over her floor.
"Yep, just like a pet." Mith sighed, this wasn't going to be a fun morning like she had hoped. "I can't believe you're such a light weight."