A round of applause within the tavern was directed at Darius Renthrope, who had finished his tale and swung his body in a deep bow to show his appreciation. His fingers loosely held the fretboard of his cittern while his fatigue was settling in, ready to turn in for the night.
The merriment of his audience soon died down and everyone returned to their ale and company. Even the traveler who had previously interrupted his speech had jovially given Darius a standing ovation, albeit hesitantly.
The next bard was soon about to switch shifts with him, so Darius hurriedly put away his instrument in its wooden lacquered case. As the band started to play a merry tune once again, he haphazardly jumped off the stage. He clapped a few hands of frequented patrons, giving a few of the more generous ones a well-deserved slap on the back, before heading straight to the "fine bartender" awaiting his shift to get over.
Once at the bar, Darius spread out his arms in greeting. The bartender clapped her hands and exclaimed her satisfaction at another stunning performance.
"Marius!"
"Dileena, it's Darius..."
Darius pretended to brood, pulling the corners of his lips downward—coyly acting as though he were really wounded that she kept forgetting his own name.
Dileena smirked as she was continuously rubbing an empty glass and gestured to the row of open seats in front of her—ignoring his pouty expression.
"Haha, sit down, sit down. I prepared a token for my finest."
The hearty, cheerful Dileena, sported clothes unbefitting of a former noblewoman—an outfit she liked to call "casual wear," which was basically a combination of loose fitted trousers secured by a large, leather belt and a farmer's dress shirt. Her hair was peppered with several silver strands, indicating her age that she always tried to hide—but due to her age, she found it fun to tease younger men with her "forgetfulness".
Darius, one of her favorite victims of her persistent teasing, sat down like she asked and glanced at what she meant by "token".
After knowing him for several years and as his employer, she took the liberty to make her underlings as blithe as the patrons she served, by making them a token. Darius was one of her most trusted bards, since he racked up the most patrons during this time of night. Therefore, it was only out of courtesy that she owed him a drink after a night of tales and gallant singing. Especially this night, to which he had gathered a new record of patrons filling her bar—with all the leftover tips that she received, she didn't mind in the slightest putting a lavish amount towards rewarding Darius.
Teasing him was just a bonus. He was always so rough around the edges… She didn't have the heart to tell him that he was the only one she constantly wanted to mess with. Some things were better left unsaid, fufufu.
Darius took a sip of liquor, exhaling loudly when he realized the strength of the alcohol. He wasn't a connoisseur nor an addict, but he knew fine ale when he drank it. He wouldn't mind being treated like this forever: the drinks, the applause, the praise from his superior… If only she didn't like to poke fun at him. Under his breath he muttered something about her not even being too old to forget something like his own name.
Taking another empty glass that one of the more roudier patrons left behind and vigorously rubbing the foam away, she shrugged her shoulders at his civil complaint, as though not finding fault in her own actions. Just a bit of juvenile tomfoolery to make me feel fresh again, she would normally say.
Darius saw her ignoring his accusation. Switching topics, he commented about the one traveler who had ignored his tale. It was one thing to give negative criticism after a shift, but it was another to interrupt his work. He smothered his frustration that he kept in check the entire performance with another shot of ale.
Normally, he wouldn't complain about a patron, but the liquor started to go to his head, and his words became more unfiltered. He nearly called the man a son-of-a—
Dileena cut him off. "Mario, you're so… so critical about everything."
Darius giggled like a four-year old. "Oh, am I Mario now?"
Dileena continued more seriously, "It's time for you to loosen up for a change. How old are you, again? You're still so bright and healthy."
"... You're only 43."
"And you're 25."
Drinking another sip, "Yes and?"
"You're uptight!"
Chuckling, Darius downed half the pint in a single gulp, shifting his upright posture to a slouch after hearing Dileena call him "uptight." As a final touch, he loosened the first rope on his white dress shirt and shook out his hair messily. He then raised his hands as if to show off his new laid back appearance and say, "See? Not uptight anymore."
She shook her head and smacked the dirty dish rag on the bar counter, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips in contrast to Darius's hearty chuckle. Leaning against the bar and squaring her shoulders, she studied Darius's face, searching for an ounce of sobriety. There was none as far as she could see.
Next time she'll only give him wine.
Darius tried to take another sip—and before he could turn into an alcoholic for the remainder of the night—she took the pint away from him as though taking away a toy from a child. Darius protested right away, but she smacked the dish rag on his hand when he reached out again.
As he glowered at her, she instead filled a cup of water and placed it in front of him. Hesitantly, he reached for the glass, but upon looking at her uncharacteristically stern expression, he sighed in defeat and drank the water.
She waited for him to finish before she began her point. "Y'know this was still your best performance." She stared at him earnestly as he put the empty glass aside.
With a droopy voice, he questioned, "You really think so? Because I've been working on it for a few months to perfect it. I've been having all these ideas…"
As he prattled on endlessly, she admonished the dopey, tipsy look on his face. His face was slightly blushed, and his manner of speech was more flamboyant, but after getting an ounce of praise, he acted like a little boy showing off to his mother. Really, he's such a lightweight… I shouldn't have given him the strongest thing I had.
He went on for a while, even mentioning a few features that even she thought would be interesting for the act—but eventually she cut him off. "It would've been better if you hadn't stopped midway for that one traveler."
Darius scrunched his face as though he smelled something revolting.
Oh? This was a new face. Dileena mused.
In a way Dileena was grateful that the alcohol gave her usually unreadable bard more expressions—but at this point he was unfettered in showing his emotions.
"So? Why can't I? It's my show, Dileena—"
In a powerful tone, she once again cut him off, "'Our' show."
Darius: "Our show…"
Sigh, this guy… You may be the storyteller but who do you think runs this show?
To his lackluster tone, she poked him in the head with her index finger before shifting away from him to continue polishing dishes, "Right that is. Since it is 'our' show, you can't keep isolating every traveler who doesn't listen to you—"
Darius was unrelenting to defend his case.
"But they need to listen."
"Yes, they're very fascinating."
Darius shook his head, "No no, not like that. These tales, especially this tale, basically explains the most significant event of our entire history."
Getting him another glass of water, Dileena immediately understood what he meant. However, she kept silent and listened to Darius's tirade.
"—And this tavern is on the outskirts of Dracaena. Travelers practically run this place."
"I know." She said as she handed him the other glass.
He took it and immediately downed it. "—They're going to hear the voice whether they like to or not."
"I'm aware."
"Usually they don't like it… the swines." As he pronounced the last word, he slammed his empty glass down, jolting himself. He looked at his hands, realizing that he was more angry than he was earlier due to the alcohol. Feeling suddenly embarrassed at losing his control, he brandished a small white towel that he had from his pockets and began rubbing the glass as an apology for acting out.
Dileena saw that he realized his own drunkenness as sighed. She exchanged his towel for her already dirty one and grabbed a new one for herself. The two cleaned glasses together, listening to the band play their last folk song as the new bard got ready on stage.
Darius, in a more controlled and quieter tone said, "They're just not informed. We could lose precious business once they come here and discover that the rumors about us are real—and when they hear the voice…"
She knew what he was about to say without even saying it.
Travelers had the tendency to get spooked easily. The chilling voice—although rumors of it have spread across the land—is still an auditory disaster waiting to happen. Hearing the gossip is not the same as experiencing it yourself. Those who tend to be misinformed about the songs… More than likely never return to Dracaena after one night.
But that wasn't all that Darius meant...
As the new bard got onstage, Dileena asked in a more serious tone, "But is this about the business? Or the voice."
At that Darius quieted himself once more. He continued to look down at his hands which were roughly cleaning the glass until it made squeaking sounds. He focused all his energy into that and avoided her gaze. It seemed like Dileena hit the mark.
She prompted him, "Look… I know how you feel about the voice. Trust me, haha."
Darius rolled his eyes at that remark.
She continued, "But not everyone is going to respect it as you do."
To that Darius tried to interrupt but Dileena beat him to the punch.
"It's … not something the people want to hear about, or me. If anything, most want to get away from it. The few patrons here including myself adore your stories because you are the one telling them. Yet this… the content of these tales isn't for everyone. You have to understand."
Sighing, and looking more sober and stiff as he usually does, Darius nodded, "No I… understand."
"Good." Dileena nodded approvingly, not merely for Darius's acquiescence but also to his clearheaded expression. Seems like the ale was wearing off. "Try to lighten up a bit, it looks like I just fired you."
"Mhmff, ahahaha! The day you fire me, is the day this tavern falls."
Though he was making a jest… He knew that she really could fire him. However he'd rather not think about that.
Upon hearing his egotistical comment, she snickered as she was placing all the dishes she cleaned on a rack.
The two continued their banter, casually pausing on occasion to listen to the new bard strum a hymn about a finch falling in love with a canary—an absurd love tale about the previous king and his only advisor.
These kinds of ridiculous tunes were what the patrons were used to, not a history lesson. Being under the influence may have had a hand in capturing their attention.
Everyone in the tavern was enraptured in the tale, even the local patrons, who knew full well who the hymn was about, yet did not care that it was heresy to listen to this kind of muck in the first place.
When the new bard vocalized the birds missing the morning's worms after an overnight rendezvous, Darius rolled his eyes. The earlier cloudiness had finished, so he was in his right mind when he turned back to Dileena with an all serious face and said, "You have to fire him."
Over the cheers of the audience, Dileena raised her voice slightly, "It's hard to find someone like him."
Darius glanced back at the bard unconvinced and listened to more of his tale. The other bard dressed more provocatively, drawing the eyes of the younger ladies in the audience. He too was a favorite for his appearance, but unlike Darius, his work was full of senseless comedies that if one really listened to it, was more controversial and unsightly.
Though they played on the same stage, Darius couldn't find an ounce of respect for the man. Turning to Dileena who was still busying herself bussing behind the counter, he accused, "You can't be serious… This, this isn't music. It's garbage."
Dileena shrugged, "He works, I pay… So long as he shows up on time, then he will stay."
Darius: "Then I'm the one who will leave."
Dileena tried to retort to change his mind but she knew it wouldn't work—he was just too headstrong about his craft that if anyone made a mockery of it, he would take offense. Thus, she decided to not say anything in return, watching his back as he made his way past the fray of patrons.
A few patrons shouted for an encore in the back, but Darius knew that these patrons had lost their sanity to the liquor long ago, just like he had earlier tonight. No one in their right mind would want an encore of this dribble—at least he thought.
Dileena observed Darius's annoyed glance towards the back few patrons and snickered to herself. Sigh, he was back to normal alright. There was no need to worry about him stumbling off anywhere. If he is this annoyed then he'll go off to wallow in his room.
Before he bounded up the stairs to the upper part of the tavern inn, all the clocks in the bar struck midnight. Their chimes alerted all the tavern-folk, creating a dissonance of bells and cuckoos. Everyone slowly quieted down, as if being lulled to sleep, yet they all gained a new kind of vigilance.
It was that time again, Darius thought.
As per protocol, Dileena averted their attention to her and spoke out instructions, emphasizing to those who have traveled from afar. Those who were local knew what to do, and they all silently went to the windows, making sure they were locked and the shutters were closed.
Knowing what was to come, Darius wasn't intent on witnessing the newcomers' confusion. He flew up the stairs—as though chasing after a ghost of his past.