It took all night to find Hal.

Snooze padded off into the Village of Gens again, hoping more than anything to somehow procure her chevalier du vagabonde in some sort of happenstance. Being a god, she more than half-expected serendipity to leap out at her from behind each building as she passed. However, she was finding that the life of a deity stripped of all that makes her special, was indeed a depressing, and uneventful venture.

The god drifted from shop to shop, then from stall to stall, and through several inns and taverns without so much as an inkling of where to begin her search. Though it wasn’t a metropolis by any stretch of the imagination, Gens was the largest settlement she’d encountered since her transition into the world of the post-living, and as such was remarkably--nigh on comically--bad at navigating through crowds while pushing through piles of people to get to where she needed to go.

It was somewhere around one in the morning (though, who could tell in such a place?) when Snooze made her way down one of the larger roads near the gate on the opposite end of the village from where she’d entered. As she walked, worrying incessantly about the factors of her plan dissolving before her very eyes, she discovered an interesting building forced into the backdrop of the numerous shops and abodes dotting the lane. It was clearly intentional, made of sleek, angular corners, and dark wood and muted stone. A single window faced the road, while an array of others half-covered with shutters faced the narrow alleyway that ran along next to it. The place was elongated, and it had a snub-nosed front with lengthy flanks that made it look all-together cute and stubby. A sign hung above the single door in the front, bearing a marquee with a picture of a sword painted on it.

At first, Snooze thought the building might belong to a blacksmith. Who else but one who made weaponry and armor would bear such a rune on their signal of business. However, after hearing the cacophony of… was it drunken merriment…? --coming from within, and seeing the bright lantern light that cast many disparate shadows, she thought that perhaps she could be mistaken.

Besides, what sort of blacksmith is open this late at night and owns a place that smells this much like booze?

It would appear that Snooze had never met an actual blacksmith before, or she may have known that her reasons for discrediting it as one were not very sound at all.

Fortunately for her, it was not a smithy, but in fact, an enormous inn, and to go further, one designed for a specific purpose. Snooze discovered this information for herself in due time, but at that moment was resigned to just figuring out what exactly was all the boo-dad going on inside.

Pushing the creaking door open, she was met by a very--in her opinion-- stereotypical medieval-style tavern. Sconces of blazing torchlight decorated the walls, filling the ceiling with a smoky gray haze, and dozens of mismatched benches and tables were strewn about, covered with patrons either sitting, swaying, or laying on top. Heavy steins crashed together, sending the liquid contents in every direction, but mostly down and pooling along the wood and dripping to the rough floor below. Made of stone, the passage around each bit of drinking furniture was also peppered with the telltale signs of either a very good, or a very poor night. Most occupying this parcel of revelry were unconscious, as is rumored to be the point of any night of festivitous mischief--ending up spinning and senseless, stumbling half-in-the-pipe and wetting oneself to a degree that could be described as quaint.

This was the chaos that Snooze had wandered into.

She could see a Tet Tet slinging drinks behind the bar, grunting rather than speaking in the way the tropes always seemed to indicate, and not paying attention to anyone entering. So, to the little, humble god, it seemed like it was the perfect time to make friends.

Snooze cozied on up, choosing a stout stool that looked mostly clean, and plopped herself down. It was a great stretch of physical prowess on her part, for the design of the keister-craft was obviously for someone much larger than one of her stature, and in fact, the cushion was almost as far from the flagstones as her own set of star-struck eyes. Snooze feared that she might look a bit out of place in the raucous setting, and puffed her chest out as the Tet Tet barman approached, to better illustrate her tough-as-nails demeanor.

“Uwegh?” the bartender oathed, knocking up his chin in her direction.

Well, that’s hardly a language, now is it? Snooze thought, but then remembered that, despite this being her world, she was merely a guest in this place and needed to respect the rules that had developed in her loving absence. She dropped her brow, attempting what she thought might look quite intimidating, and waved her hand roughly.

“Bweh!” she returned, letting an element of rasp enter her articulation.

I’m a natural!

The Tet Tet looked confusedly at her, and then set the mug he’d been polishing down on the countertop and leaned forward, giving her an analyzing stare.

“UWEGH?!” he seemed to ask again, his gigantic eyes making the god feel even smaller.

“Bweh! BwehBWEH!” Snooze said, gesturing vaguely toward the rows of spigotted barrels behind the creature. Upon each, in the same indiscernible scrawl she’d been seeing everywhere, were what appeared to be names of the different types of alcohol. It conjured up the many instances Snooze had been in a similar situation before, back in the old life, though usually by the time she was speaking in dulcet groans in those days, she was feeling decidedly no pain.

The bartender stood up to his full height--nearly seven feet, and looked behind him at the casks, and gestured to one in particular.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Egh?” he snorted.

“Wueh!” Snooze croaked, rolling her eyes and acting as though she didn’t care at all what dark age swill was poured for her.

The Tet Tet looked from her, and then back to the cask, and then raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down, seeming to find the woman quite curious. Then he shrugged and slapped the spout on the barrel with the brunt of a mug and it began to fill. Snooze noticed the sludge that plunged out of the tap was a brownish-amber color, but were it not for the thickness of the potion, it would have looked very much like a regular beer.

The Tet Tet clunked the full mug onto the counter.

“Uwegh,” he began, “‘at’ll be a single breck.”

Snooze stared at him. Not only did the creature speak with a wonderfully rich timbre to his voice, but she also feared she had played her hand too far. She had no idea what a ‘breck’ was, and had been mumming at this farce now and felt this new, sassy version of herself wasn’t the type to ask questions. So she dug into her pouch and removed what she thought was a fair gem. It was a green one, not her favorite, but not her least favorite either. Hopefully the arbitrary value she’d assigned to the jewels in her possession would also translate to the commerce of the Village of Gens.

She rapped the stone against the bartop and grunted again. She watched as the Tet Tet’s eyes widened, though she’d have been hard pressed to have guessed the possibility of that happening before this interaction.

“Y-you’re sure about that?” he boomed, unsure.

“Bweh!” Snooze released, and waved toward the gem and busied herself looking around the tavern as if she had somewhere better to be.

The bartender scooped up the jewel, and as if worried it was going to be swiped from him, held it up in two hands to obscure its view, to the light. Seemingly satisfied, he dropped his mitts and pocketed the gem, but didn’t move on to another customer. No, he stayed put, staring at the little god curiously, before crossing his arms and sighing.

“Not from ‘round here, are ya?” he asked, his voice, Snooze was sure, would have been perfectly suited for performing the narration over movie trailers back in the old life.

Snooze shook her head, but didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure why she was committing to this bit, but it seemed to be doing wonders for her, and she wasn’t going to start looking a gift Tet Tet in the mouth just yet.

“That’s fair,” he admitted with a curt nod, “best to be tight lipped at times. Strange sort ‘ Brug you are.”

Snooze frowned, wanting to clarify that she was absolutely not a Brug, but a wonderfully created and worthwhile endangered species. However, instead, she shook her head.

“Not a Brug then?” he asked, and when she shook her head in response he nodded once again. “Aye, ‘suppose that clears. Arranged all sorts o’ different anyways. I was thinkin’ you’d maybe fallen in a well or sommat. Broken your bones and grew back together all bad.”

Snooze, if she could manage, scowled even deeper. The bartender seemed amused by this and let out a short chuckle, though it could best be described as a one-syllable sneeze.

“Didn’t like that? Well, that’s fair too. What sort of business brings you to the Blade Gullet?”

Blade Gullet? Oh, yikes.

Snooze shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Lookin’ fer somethin’ mayhaps?” the Tet Tet asked.

Snooze nodded once, mirroring his mannerisms. A crooked grin appeared across his large face.

“E’ryone ‘ere is lookin for sommat ‘er another,” he said. “An’ they’re like to find it too. Though most end up seeking out a scratch o’ inhebriation or a mouthful of broken incisors. Not much else here than that, little not-Brug.”

Snooze sighed, and figured that she’d get nowhere continuing with this act, so she decided to adopt a different tactic. She stretched her mouth into a wide grin and leaned forward, adopting a rough quality to her voice.

“Lookin’ fer a gal named Hal,” she said--not intending to rhyme, but doing so marvelously.

“It speaks!” the bartender said, relaxing and placing both massive hands on the bar, leaning forward again. “A gal named Hal, eh? Well, ‘seems to me, that a person such as meself might be interested in knowin’ a touch about the why you’re lookin’ fer Hal.”

Snooze sat up straight, forgetting to modulate her tone in her surprise.

“You know her?” she asked.

If the bartender had noticed the change, he didn’t react to it. He just peered at her, his large eyelids squinting as if trying to unearth some secret path in Snooze’s reactions.

“Aye…” he said finally, nodding once again. “I know Hal. But, question is… how do you know’er?”

Snooze sighed and tried desperately to think of a lie that might fool someone so scrutinizing.

“She gave me a ride to this village,” she said, her gruffness returning. “I got the money I owe her for the trouble.”

The Tet Tet nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave Snooze’s face.

“Strange sort o’ creature you are,” he said. “Stranger still be your manner. Not many in the village would willingly pay back a debt of such little coin. Not when you could easily get yerself lost and gone among the crowd. Good place to disappear to, Gens. Odd that you’d return a payment for such a simple task. Payin’ Hal with one o’ those green crystals, aye?”

Snooze smiled, hoping it looked a little menacing, and shrugged.

“Mayhaps I am. Any business of yours how I pay?”

His grin returned, and he shook his head.

“True enough, it ain’t. Though, I’m just as likely to believe a stranger o’ yer caliber, waltzing in ‘ere with a big to-do of pretense might also be interested in paying their owings with steel over jewels. You got a weapon with her name on it?”

Snooze shook her head, but her mind wandered to the Stonie knife she’d acquired from the shopkeeper a few hours ago.

Does that constitute a weapon? She wondered. Even if I could wield it, it was old enough and dull enough that it would probably make no marks on any intended targets. Jeeze!

“No weapons at all,” she said. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might be absolutely killing this interaction.

“Even more curious, then,” the bartender said. “Not many miserable cus’s would sidle up to my bar at the Blade Gullet full o’ enough mite to come empty handed.”

“Guess that’s just how. I. Roll.” Snooze said, punctuating each word. “So, are you going to tell me where she is, or not?”

The bartender took a few more moments to just size her up. She was pretty small, so she couldn’t believe it would take very long, but even after thirty seconds, the big Tet Tet seemed to still find a lot of suspicion in her presence. Finally, he sighed, and threw his chin toward a direction in the back of the tavern.

“O’er there,” he said.

YES! Snooze shouted internally. This totally paid off!

“Though, you’d be best to not disturb her at the moment.”

Snooze cocked her head to the side.

“Why not?”

The bartender leaned forward again, conspiratorially, and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper.

“She’s havin’ a gab with Twick currently. He’s an itchy sort. Liable to stab you full of breathing room for bargin’ in unannounced.”

Snooze flashed a glance to where the barman had indicated, and sure enough, far on the other side of the space she could see the back of Hal’s head. The girl was sitting forward in an large easy chair that looked like it had come out second-best in a couple of brawls, conversing with someone she couldn’t quite make out.

“Well, I suppose that’s my problem, then,” Snooze said as she turned back to the Tet Tet.

I sound like such a badass!

“Suppose it may be,” the man returned, his tone indicating as to the colossally bad idea he thought must have been brewing in Snooze’s brain.

“Thanks fer the seaglass firerock,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Snooze returned. She wanted to ask what else the barman knew about her precious gems, but thought it might not pair well with the airs she’d been displaying. Instead, she nodded, and slid off the barstool to the floor far below.

“Don’t forget your T’kelk Brew,” the barman said, and slid the untouched mug to the edge of the bar for her to grab.

Snooze did some mental calculations. T’kelk sounded like ta ke uk, the Stonie words for a poisonous plant she’d been calling “Big No-No Fern.” What were the odds that this wasn’t derived from the flora that had killed countless hapless denizens of the world from merely brushing against it?

Fantastic. I’ve got a cup full of death syrup. Why in blazes would anyone make something edible out of the fantastically destructive plant?

She accepted the mug anyways, and began to walk toward where Hal’s scalp seemed to reside, shuffling carefully through the still-very-much-partying tavern goers. As she crossed the room, she was able to see Hal’s spot more clearly, and as she leaned back in her chair she caught sight of who she’d been speaking to. A shiny, silver-armored frame encased a muscular-looking form, a blue cloak clasped at the shoulders. As Snooze’s eyes focused, she caught a glimpse of the other person’s face, and suddenly, her heart froze in her chest.

What? How is that possible?

Sitting in front of Hal was a certified, genuine, one-hundred-percent-Grade-A, old-life human.