Chapter 55 – A Night of Wonder

Adam snickered at the traditional full-head mask of a Fiend he had just ‘borrowed’ to blend in during Fiendswell Night. The wooden, overly dramatic depiction of a rather irritated boar’s head had curved tusks and flaming horns.

Legend said that the day after Aves had ascended during Firstnight, mythological creatures called Fiends thought they had free game. They had been causing mayhem all over until the faithful prayed and caused Aves to smite the Fiends and restore ‘pious order across the land.’ To commemorate, the people dressed up, dined, wrestled, and partied during Fiendswell Night every year. The day after, they repented for their past year’s sins in the Starwing Groves. Often hungover as a mule.

Emily eyed her own mask, with blue scales, needle-like teeth and a multi-coloured veil. “Doesn’t it feel strange not to pay for this stuff? I know we’re in a memory, but still.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “At least you two got pretty masks. Look!” His mask had a long nose, puffed cheeks and a thick bushy beard. “Can’t Caine remember anything better than this?”

Adam laughed. “Don’t worry, it matches your pretty eyes perfectly.”

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Inside the Green Hare, the group was greeted by the trusted scent of roasted boar, red wine, and the smoke of wooden pipes. Long oaken tables were loaded with drinks and warm dishes. The heads of great beasts that had once scourged the land hung on the tavern’s walls and ceiling.

Inside, they found many shimmering apparitions of old memories. Like how Caine had shaved Adam bald after a lost bet and how they and their friends had danced during a minstrel group’s performance. Another set of shapes showed how Caine, Adam, and even Jeremiah had shared a meal together during their first year, excited to explore the new city. How times change, Adam thought bitterly.

Emily raised her eyebrows. “Look at the number of Caine’s memories with girls in here. I mean, wow…”

“Indeed,” Oliver said rather stiffly. Adam followed his gaze and swallowed. Near the bar, the shape of Caine had an arm around the shoulders of Erica, Oliver’s girlfriend at the time. Back then, Adam had never had the heart to tell Oliver, and the pang of guilt flared up sharply.

“Ah, there they are!” Clearly oblivious, Emily walked up towards one of the cosier tables at the side of the tavern, meant for two persons. With her athletic posture and complex braids that stuck out beneath her mask, Agatha was easy to recognize.

“Good, good.” Adam turned back to Oliver, their ridiculous masks an uncomfortable contrast with the subject at hand. “Back then—”

“Don’t,” Oliver interjected under his breath and walked towards Emily and the green shapes as if nothing had happened. “It must’ve been crowded in here at the time, so let’s be careful.”

“Uhm, right.” Adam awkwardly readjusted his mask and walked up to them.

As soon as Adam touched the sprite that flew around Caine’s shoulder, their surroundings changed completely. Suddenly, all green shapes were gone and the room was filled with visitors in costumes of all colours and shapes.

The minstrel group with flutes, fiddles, and drums had to play quite loudly to be heard over the laughs and hum-buzz of people having fun. Although the music was less complex and high-level compared to the symphony of the Prophet, Adam preferred it infinitely more. It’s been way too long, indeed.

However, the shade cast by the War of the Prophet was easy to see. The decorations were few and cheap and the people were skinnier than usual. Instead of intricate, well-made costumes, most guests had clearly made do with whatever they had.

Despite everything, the visitors seemed determined to enjoy their evening. Two groups of boys competed in some stupid bet to see who could build the highest pyramid of glassware on their table. Two old ladies giggled as they were ‘just tasting’ expensive liquors. An unfamiliar, burly man with a brown moustache and an apron walked by. Frowning sternly at the glass pyramids, he swiped shards of pottery with his broom and grumbled in a foreign accent. His name tag read ‘Sloan’. Huh, must’ve been a temporary employee.

Oliver tapped Adam on the shoulder. “Look! It’s our old captain!” He pointed at a small arena where wrestling matches were being held. Captain Ludwig, a big bald man with an impressive beer belly, held his opponent in a headlock. The bearded wrestler squirmed to get away, but Ludwig’s blonde moustache bristled with laughter. “I’d quit if I were you!” he intoned with a melodious, deep voice. “Know when to stop, before your head says ‘pop!’ ”

Adam smiled broadly. The familiar, trusted scenes made the built-up tension and stress leave his neck and shoulders. He felt warm and fuzzy, as his heart pumped hot blood through his veins. “Too bad we can’t have a chat with the old bastard, I’d—”

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Emily pointed towards Agatha and Caine.

“Oh, right,” Adam said.

“—nice that people don’t recognise me, for a change,” Agatha said before she lifted her pink, moth-shaped mask a bit to take a drink. “But the masks are a little odd, don’t you think?”

Caine nodded, making his mask in the shape of a spiked sea star bob up and down. He was methodically ripping the label of his drink into pieces. “The convention of the masks is a remnant of traditions passed down from ancient, almost forgotten cultures. Later on, the Starwing Order came in and reformed the ancient, already adapted celebrations in the name of Fiendswell. The masks were simply too popular to abolish.” Caine was silent for a while as he brusquely continued ripping the label into even smaller pieces. “Adam told me that, long ago.”

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Agatha said patiently.

“Ugh, it’s just… how could he be so stupid?” Caine threw pieces of the ripped label on the ground in frustration, causing Sloan to stop sweeping the floor for a moment and raise a hairy eyebrow at him. “I still can’t believe it, you know?” Caine mumbled.

Agatha cocked her head to the side. “I know the good old days hold a special place in your heart. And he certainly used to be a nice fellow. But you shouldn’t let the past cloud your judgment on what he’s doing now. He isn’t the same man he used to be.”

“Clearly,” Caine said, with cold fury in his voice. With a frustrated swipe of his arm, he threw the ripped remnants of his label on the ground.

Adam shivered with anger, suppressing the urge to deck the man in the face. Oh really, I changed? Says the ‘loyal friend’ who—

Adam’s thoughts were interrupted when Sloan brusquely paced towards them, his great hairy eyebrows furrowed in indignation. In the blur of the moment, Adam stepped back and pulled both Oliver and Emily out of the man’s way. Not quick enough though; a strange ripple in the air emanated throughout the entire room as Sloan had touched Oliver’s foot. Realising they could be seen, Adam reflexively tensed his muscles.

However, the pair at the table seemed utterly distracted by Sloan, who prodded Caine’s chest with a hairy, sausage-like finger. “You. Clean,” he said in an outlandish, unrecognisable accent.

The yellow eyes behind the starfish mask blinked. “What?”

“I’ve worked at strange places, at strange bars,” Sloan said. “But I never imagined guests would just throw garbage on floor. I’ve met animals with more manners than you. Now, clean.” He reached out his broom to Caine, who clenched his fists. Agatha waved calmingly and turned towards Sloan.

Subtly, Adam and Emily walked away and tried to make some distance.

Oliver didn’t. Smoothly, he changed his posture and way of walking to appear much older. He grumbled with a rough voice and rubbed his leg as he walked past. He took a seat at the table to the left of Agatha and Caine, with his back towards Caine.

Adam walked away into the crowd and glanced over his shoulder; Caine and Agatha were deep in conversation again. Beneath the table, Oliver made a subtle, waving motion to Adam, signalling him to move away.

Adam puffed out his cheeks and turned to Emily. “That was close. Did you see how Oliver did that?”

Emily nodded. “He is a good actor, even did some espionage missions before.”

Adam and Emily moved through the crowd, to stand as far away from Agatha and Caine’s cosy corner as possible. People could see and interact with them, just like long ago. However, due to the costume, he finally didn’t have to worry about people recognising him. There was no staring at his strange eyes. He didn’t have to worry about who he was or what he had done.

The people around him laughed, sang and danced. It was easy to imagine that everything that had happened in the Realm was just a bad dream. That this was just another night out, with many more to come.

Except this time, he was together with Emily. Just the two of them.

They chatted casually about the things they’d like to do when they got out of the Realm. Emily talked about friends who she liked to see, and who were probably worried sick about her. Meanwhile, the party around them got more and more lively. People clapped their hands, bumped each other’s feet, and roared at the ones beside them in the Fiendswell dance. Wheezing in laughter, a group of old geezers with arms over each other’s shoulders danced on a table. One of the minstrels played a wild solo on his flute made of brass, to the cheers of his audience.

Captain Ludwig grunted loudly in the wrestlers’ ring, pulling and pushing at his muscular opponent. With a roar of effort, Ludwig threw the bearded man off balance and hurled him out of the ring. Bystanders screamed and dodged the wrestler, who crashed into a dining table, sending glasses and pottery flying. The couple who ate there got up stiffly, as the man wiped soup from his face.

“Get your ass back here!” Ludwig shouted, stretching his muscled arms.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet!” his opponent yelled, shattering pottery as he stormed back.

Sloan looked at the broken mess the man had left and held his broom in a white-knuckled grip. His face shook in anger until he lifted the broom and broke it in two upon his knee. “I quit!” he exclaimed and threw both halves on the floor.

Adam and Emily shook with laughter, Emily held onto Adam’s arm to keep standing. Adam blinked in surprise. As long as he had known her, she had always avoided touching others whenever possible. She cocked her head to the side and felt Adam’s biceps some more.

She whistled softly. “Someone’s been working out,” she laughed. “Too bad it didn’t save you from getting slapped by that ape, eh?”

Adam raised an eyebrow, although he soon realised she couldn’t see that through the mask. “Hah! Says the one who… wait, where did you get that beer from?”

Emily shrugged and lifted her bottle. “Somewhere,” she singsonged, pulling her mask up a bit to reveal a smile. “We’re in a memory, so we don’t have to pay!”

Adam laughed. “Hmm, the question is, what happens if you drink or eat something from a memory? You understand I have to confiscate the bottle for ‘academic purposes,’ right?”

Emily just had time to protect the bottle with her arms, before they ended up play-fighting over it. She giggled as she tried to tickle him. Adam’s left heart sent waves of comfortable heat through his veins.