The foreigner made way down the crowded street, so many denizens out and about. The buildings around, likewise, were rather decorated for festives; flags, banners, and such were waving around in greater abundancy. She had been in this rather large primitive settlement long enough to know that…such festive decorations, banners, and good cheers all around were indicative of a ‘holiday’, which only meant: a busy day at work.
As she walked, a man near yawned, which caused her to yawn in turn…ugh…truly, such a contagious and annoying impulse. She had experienced them before but…rarely, yet now it had become a common phenomenon.
Hmm…she noticed as she made way, now in this commercial district of sorts with market stands all over the place, that ladies were frolicking all over this specific stand; if not females then males who were…attempting to compete or rather…solicit their attention.
They were doing so by…right, she had seen that stand before…it ‘sold’…or traded in exchange for these metallic-disc trinkets in her pouch…these ‘jewelry’ things. ‘Amulets’, ‘rings’, and other such trinkets made from…whatever ‘precious’ materials which the locals prescribed great ‘value’ towards, for…largely arbitrary abstract reasons—the same abstractions which made these very ‘coins’ of silver or gold ‘valuable’.
Jewelry was largely considered to be a ‘female’ affair…again, for abstract reasons. Thus, males would often attempt to court females by purchasing for them those…jewelry things, using their accumulated ‘surplus’ of coin—that being, all the coin that was left over and saved once ‘expenses’, such as rent, were factored out. Though, females themselves would often flock to these stands to purchase directly or…to hope that a male would purchase their desired trinket for them, and possibly find a long-time mate in the process.
Considering that she was, well, female and must play the role of a 'normal lady’, she would sometimes feint interest and inspect, practicing her socializing and ‘barter’ skills. Hmm…she stared; well, she had some time…ish left, so she may as well take a gander like all the rest. She donned a casual smile and approached the stand, waiting behind the blob of ladies and courting men in front…this was going to require…quite the time, wasn’t it?
-|-
“Ninety-five silverrs” so spoke the chubby merchant behind the jewelry stand, his voice with rather the strong rhotic pronunciation, his hand waving over the jewelry on display. Silver rings for the most part, all rather bland but had elaborate patterns of sorts engraved. Cheap, affordable, and purely ‘commoner’ aesthetically; the fact that such silver rings were even affordable for women of such common-born class was a novelty in its own right, hence the popularity.
The foreigner tilted her head, contemplating ostensibly; “…ninety-five of the silvers, you said?” she replied respectfully and cordially, her own alien accent rather prominent but not incomprehensible; “…was not the price…in the fifty of silvers range the last week, no?” she inquired.
The merchant stared down at her; all he saw was a strange masked shortish Far Western girl who most likely had far more silvers on her than her appearance implied. “Oh…you know how it is these days, no? Copperr and Brronze arre worrth nothing, they keep finding morre and morre platinum and gold mines everry day, so silverr is too unstable…and the instability of silverr is not my prroblem orr fault” the merchant responded; “besides, you arre Farr Westerrn…no? Do not tell me you arre low on silverrs?” he added in remark.
The foreigner looked away somewhat, “…ehm…Far Western Colonial…more accurately, I am from the…New World” she responded; “and…there is not the many silvers to me…I am quite the…poor, in truth…” she added…somewhat embarrassed, ostensibly.
Her job barely paid enough to cover her rent, the only reason she accumulated her own surplus was due to…not needing to spend any excess silvers on basic necessities…such as food. She had a full pouch of 100 silvers, which was enough to cover one of these trinkets but…that would be 95% percent of her accumulated surplus and she was explicitly instructed not to overspend her surplus, even though such spending was only ever done to maintain an illusion of normalcy.
The merchant gasped aback; “A poorr Farr Westerrn lady? Osh frĕt ag Deygons! I have almost neverr hearrd of such a thing!” he replied in exclaim, flabbergasted sarcastically; “though…hmm…the colonies, you say? Yes…yes…that mask too, therre was anotherr one like you…I rrememberr…a New Worrld half-elf…darrk-blue hairr…worre an…even fancierr mask than you” he remarked; “…she would always come by herre…and just starre at one rring…but would…neverr buy, always saying she only had a place forr one rring on herr hand haha…I think…she just did that to taunt me orr something…she might’ve been a widow too…I think…” he remarked further, warmly recalling memories.
The foreigner, however, looked down, face evading eye contact; “…yes, I believe that I know…who you speak…about, she is…was…the friend to me…we come from the same…….colony…a place where…the…humans and the New World elves…live with the peace” she remarked, her smile fading as she donned solemn sorrow and lament; “she is…no longer here, she is…in a better…place now” she said sorrowfully.
The merchant, hearing this news, dampened somewhat, no longer as chuckly and full of humor; “That is…trragic to hearr…I was wonderring why…I haven’t seen herr in…months” he responded, saddened. “You know what…how about this: look at that rring over there” he began to say, his finger pointing at a specific silver ring.
She turned her gaze and stared. This silver ring was somewhat more elaborate and 'fancy' in its engraved patterns…and had bronze or a related shiny metal embroiled, likewise; when comparing to…similar jewelry she had seen prior and their prices, this ring was certainly above 100 silvers, or 1 gold, in value. “That is the…rring she always…looked at…I give it to you forr…hmm…let’s say…fifty-five silverrs” he said and offered cordially.
Hmm…certainly a deal, but…her ‘budget’ was no more than 50% of her surplus coin at any given moment, and 55% was still greater than 50%. She was not interested in any of these trinkets, obviously, and had no real intentions to purchase any of them. Silvers were necessary trinkets to access the many services in these lands, thus the more the better. She began to walk off; “…attractive but…another time…perhaps, there is only a hundred of the silvers to me and there is a budget” she said somewhat abruptly.
Though, actually, on second thought…she paused…she may as well practice this ‘haggling’ she had seen so often. She turned and faced the merchant again, “hmm…a second whisper enters my head…now I think…forty-nine of the silvers…I can pay, by your will” she said with a charm and deceptively natural smile as she reapproached and peered again at the stand, leaning in much closer and with greater apparent interest.
The merchant chuckled out loud at this; “You arre a cute and manipulative one, you know? You know what, fine…deal” he remarked and said.
She smiled with a faint victorious giggle; 49% of surplus was less than 50%...though…maybe she should have strived…for lower than a single percentage point below her absolute maximum. Oh well, a victory was still a victory. She took out her coin-pouch and…rather quickly and efficiently, organized 49 silver coins onto his stand in equal columns with one silver coin outlier.
“Wow…you arre the tidy and orrganized one…that was fast” he remarked as he collected the coins; “rring is yourrs, stop by again so we can chat sometime haha”.
She took the ring and waved a cordial goodbye; she affixed her coin pouch back to her belt, walking off and away. She stared down at the ring in her hand as her charm faded, her smile turning cold and flat. She felt nothing towards it…nothing at all, everything that had transpired was theatrics.
Yet…hmmm…she could maybe see why her former associate liked it so; it was…interesting…looking. Such rings and jewelry, likewise, were a sign of ‘status’ and ‘prestige’; ladies could become rather…competitive regarding such affairs and endeavors…and could be rather scornful about it too.
Thus, having one…did provide the benefit of being at least…less likely to be heckled by bejeweled ladies of higher social status…as had happened a few sometimes. Hmm…there was a specific…finger she needed to avoid…right, the ‘ring’ finger, the one next to the pinkie. She donned the ring on her left index finger, which fit rather…perfectly.
It felt weird and strange…and rather uncomfortable, but…she did just purchase it, thus…she may as well add it to her general attire schema. She looked up at the sky up high, staring as she used the sun’s position relative to the world’s rotation speed to…deduce that she was…in fact...now running…late for work. Her rather militarized march to work faded as she quickly began to…move with haste.
-||-
“Hey, mask! You’re 10 minutes late!” so lambasted the tavernkeeper, observing the foreigner stumble in timidly. He stood authoritatively behind the primary counter area of this ‘tavern’ entertainment facility. A rather rustic and primitive place, wooden construction all around, though with some fancy decoratives. Already, this place was becoming rather packed; so many denizen noises around…ugh…already mindache inducing.
She stared at the buff tavernkeeper glaring at her. « That person is your superior. Think of him as if he were your commanding presence. Follow his orders and execute them well and you will be fine, » such was how her former associate had put it. That authoritative tavernkeeper was her ‘boss’, the one to whom she had to listen and obey, for he was the one who provided her pay.
She sighed as she evaded her face down in shame, approaching the counter area; “I give the apologies to you…I became distracted by…a thing…a very silly…stupid thing” she said halting before the counter, accented voice shaded in embarrassed guilt, supported by her body language; though, her mask-obscured bagged eyes remained flat, cold, and calculative.
The tavernkeeper let out an irritated groan; “I pay you for good reason, remember that. I have certain and strict expectations; you make up for all your quirks by being studious and proficient, but you’ve been making a habit of this lately. Every day the month has been this! Even ten minutes is enough to burden your peers!” he remarked and lambasted strictly.
Her face remained down; “…I give…apologies, it has just been…hard to me lately…because she is…gone” she responded in mellow tone.
The tavernkeeper, hearing this, evaded his eyes down somewhat, his demeanor changing and loosening. “She was a good one, that’s for sure and she vouched on your behalf for good reason and I see that, but…I can’t make exceptions…be late one more time and I’ll have to cut your pay, got it?” he remarked and asserted; “…your lady grieving isn’t my problem…it’s been months…you need to get your shit back together” he added
The foreigner sighed; “certainly…” she replied.
“Good. Now, get to work” thus the tavernkeeper commanded.
She nodded before withdrawing from the counter, making way through a wooden door nearby which led to a ‘staffroom’ of sorts—a location where staff of this facility come to take a break...whenever they were actually granted one…and store any belongings in these wooden storage cubicles; no locks or seals, a mere open cube of a storage space. She placed her carry bag in one of them, a rather prominent metallic bonk being heard as she did so, for she had a…precaution…within her bag.
Thus, so began another day at her job; it was going to be…a busy monotonous day…she could already tell…ugh.
-|-
“Heya mask!” so cordially greeted a peer as the foreigner began to do her necessary objectives and tasks for this ‘job’ of hers. “Hello to you” the foreigner greeted in kind with rather the donned charm.
Her peer peered at the foreigner with a cutesy cordial lean, noticing the minor difference in her attire this day; “Let me see your…awww, that’s a nice ring! It looks lovely on you!” she remarked with a pleasant smile.
“…yes, it is; I like it…also” the foreigner responded, somewhat more awkward but still…retaining her feinting charm and donned pleasantry.
Her peer, however, leaned her head closer with a more gently mischievous smirk; “Soo…” she began to inquire, “did a special someone buy that for you…or?”
The foreigner simply nodded “No.” she replied rather frankly, “I did the buying myself”.
Her peer looked somewhat disappointed, withdrawing her leaning glare; “aww…with all the men who come here and gloat on us, you’d think one of them would have the courage to do us a favor, hmph!” she remarked with a slight pucker to the side, before looking back at the foreigner and the ring donned upon her hand; “That must’ve been expensive though…did someone at least give a fat tip or?” she remarked and asked.
“…I just do not…spend a lot…so I saved…I am what they call the ‘cheap’” the foreigner replied cordially.
Her peer giggled, “Haha! Yeah…I think can see that, the way you hoard your tips…” she remarked, before exhaling a calming breath; “…well’nyway, uhm…first day of the new year…so it’s gonna be restless…I need you to …” thus she began to instruct to the foreigner, new tasks given.
The foreigner’s general tasks tended to be cleaning the tables as soon as the ‘patrons’ or ‘customers’ departed, filling and providing the denizen patrons their ‘beverages’ of cognitive impairing properties, helping her peers in their own tasks, such and such: all mundane and tedious labor.
She had no issues in executing such tasks, however, nor did she have any problems with the…long and thankless hours—especially for this day where none would be able to leave until well past sunset. In fact, due to her…studious diligences and high tolerances, she often worked well past closing hours in order to tidy up the facility for the next day—for additional…menial compensation. She was used to operating for even longer periods of time, truth be told…days and weeks of continuous operation.
As the day dragged on as she did her doings, the workload only intensified as more and more patrons arrived in even greater blobs and intensity. They filled this entire space with their…denizen…noises. Shouting, chatting, laughing, hackling, so many noises of so many pitches and intensities…it was all rather…annoying deep down within, truth be told, even if she could not comprehend it in full.
Yet, as the sun made way past noon, it only became so much worse.
The tavernkeeper himself became preoccupied with the intensity and load of patrons and their endless intoxicated demands; without his supervision and oversight, squabbles and…problems began to quickly emerge. There were only so many tavern maids to go around to deal with every problem; indeed, they were rather outnumbered. Besides, they were…tavern maids—servantile ladies who…in spite of their occupation…struggled in asserting and making demands to angry men.
Most of her lady peers were far too timid and…socially hesitant to really intervene as a result; she herself, however, had no such frameworks and burdens of social expectations…making her a more de-facto ‘enforcer’ of sorts when necessary, even if the drunken men laughed and mocked.
“Hey, you! Mask! Hey, come come! Haha!” so heckled with a wave an armored man sitting with other armored men around this small but efficient table. Truly…with all these denizens crowding in this facility…making an endless stampede of their…noises, she struggled to even make out their hails vocating for her.
She donned a charming smile as she approached, squeezing her way through denizen after denizen. « Salvét—ehem » “—I greet you all, fine sirs!” she greeted with a cordial charm; “and what may I do for you all in this…night?” she asked with a feinting smile.
“Oh, you know…the usual, but…we just wanted to chat haha” so said the armored man, a familiar patron. “More like you wanted to chat haha!” so laughingly remarked one of his armored peers.
The foreigner sighed faintly…humoring and socializing was also part of this…job…ugh. She had not the time to spare but…she was not necessarily allowed to say no; thus, she had not the choice but to acquiesce. “Certainly! It is pleasing to me to chat!” she responded with feinted delight, one of the armored men making a seat just for her…on which she had not the choice but to sit.
These armored men were an interesting bunch, different from the typical denizen security forces she had seen. They were not military, rather they were…these ‘adventurers’ associated with this ‘guild’ or whatever. She had seen quite a few of these ‘adventurer’ types during her time as a tavern waitress, and they were always the most…peculiarly armored and armed individuals…usually dependent on their ‘rank’.
The lowest-rank she had heard of was…‘Copper’, and they tended to be…more poorly armed and were armored in only the most basic fashions. The highest-ranked adventurer she had seen in her entire year of being here was a ‘Sapphire’, though apparently there were two higher ranks above that.
That ‘Sapphire’ adventurer in particular, she remembered, had donned impractically bulky and heavy armor of…exotic origins and materials—material compounds which far surpassed the manufacturing capabilities of these lands, seemingly. They had drunkenly stated that they had ‘looted’ their ‘gear’ from a ‘high-ranking’ ‘demi-divine’…erm…something—she did not remember the details, to be honest, for their voice had been…rather…unappealing.
Regardless, this ‘party’ of adventurers in particular were among the more…abundant ranks she had seen: Silver—‘dead center’ on their ‘ten-rank’ scheme, so she had heard. Likewise, these ones also seemed to…‘fancy’ her, for better or worse. “Come on, sit sit!” so implored one of the adventurer patron’s peers.
She took her seat, maintaining her charm and smile…even if it was becoming rather difficult and exhausting to retain; “You fine sirs are with the…happiness this night” she remarked cordially.
“Of course, we are! We just got back from clearing a dungeon! An actual dungeon! Gods’ sacred toilet, you know how rare those quests are these days? Fattest thickest pay our party’s ever received, we’re celebrating tonight heha!” the adventurer patron remarked in intoxicated glee and joy; “and…I get to talk to you, fine lady” he added…intentively.
“Oh, how you…flatter me so” she responded, ‘flattered’.
The adventurer patron took one large gulp of his cognitively impairing liquid substance, one which was creamy and foamy but smelled…not exactly…pleasant—in fact…she was rather sick of that scent…it was one that disabled her own brain just by smelling it. He sighed; “…ahh…you know, our profession is a dying one…shit’s changing every fucking year…only thing we can do is celebrate that our tradition is still alive this new year…and hope that it survives the next…” he remarked solemnly.
“…we might just be the last generation of adventurers, I say…by the time I finally settle down and have kids…the Guild’s gonna be just a story…and I want to make sure…I’ve got good stories to tell them” he remarked further; “I keep getting offers from merc after merc, ‘oh we could use your special adventurer skills and whatnots, don’t ya see the Guild’s dying’ but…I say to that: Demon-King fuck your dad’s asshole! That’s what! They don’t get it! We aren’t mercs…the Guild’s the…well it’s the Guild! It just ain’t the same…you know? Just isn’t…” he drunkenly rambled onwards in lament.
“…and you know…the Guild isn’t the same either…hasn’t been for decades and decades and decades…you know either we die or…evolve so much we aren’t even what were before…in both cases…we go extinct, you know? But…burps…whatever the case be…imma stick with it until the fucking end, just so I can say: see kids and grandkids, I was there till the end!” he rambled in finality, she having not the choice but to listen and nod along with a smile...“…well, I hope that the future to you is…goodest” she finally spoke in reply.
The men chuckled; “You just have the funkiest ways of saying things, you know? Haha!” so…complemented…one of them.
Yet, “Hey, mask!” so suddenly arrived a peer of hers, hair rather…messy, eyes bagged, visibly stressed; “…quit being lazy and flirting around! I need your help! Now!” she reprimanded and stated.
The foreigner sighed as she courteously stood up; “Well, it is time of departing” she remarked with a gracious bow before following her peer…for indeed, she had much the work needing to be done. The evening was only going to become even busier and busier.
To make matters more irritating, in these lands the first festive day of the new year was merely the prelude to the second festive day of the new year: the actual day of celebration and rejoice; the day during which everything shutdown as everyone took a break to celebrate—besides, of course, those unlucky few like her and her peers. This day was already a noise infested mess, she lamented to even comprehend what tomorrow had to bring.
Truly, in moments like these, she could not help but constantly wonder what in this domain of reality was she even doing anymore.
The foreigner made way down the crowded street, so many denizens out and about. The buildings around, likewise, were rather decorated for festives; flags, banners, and such were waving around in greater abundancy. She had been in this rather large primitive settlement long enough to know that…such festive decorations, banners, and good cheers all around were indicative of a ‘holiday’, which only meant: a busy day at work.
As she walked, a man near yawned, which caused her to yawn in turn…ugh…truly, such a contagious and annoying impulse. She had experienced them before but…rarely, yet now it had become a common phenomenon.
Hmm…she noticed as she made way, now in this commercial district of sorts with market stands all over the place, that ladies were frolicking all over this specific stand; if not females then males who were…attempting to compete or rather…solicit their attention.
They were doing so by…right, she had seen that stand before…it ‘sold’…or traded in exchange for these metallic-disc trinkets in her pouch…these ‘jewelry’ things. ‘Amulets’, ‘rings’, and other such trinkets made from…whatever ‘precious’ materials which the locals prescribed great ‘value’ towards, for…largely arbitrary abstract reasons—the same abstractions which made these very ‘coins’ of silver or gold ‘valuable’.
Jewelry was largely considered to be a ‘female’ affair…again, for abstract reasons. Thus, males would often attempt to court females by purchasing for them those…jewelry things, using their accumulated ‘surplus’ of coin—that being, all the coin that was left over and saved once ‘expenses’, such as rent, were factored out. Though, females themselves would often flock to these stands to purchase directly or…to hope that a male would purchase their desired trinket for them, and possibly find a long-time mate in the process.
Considering that she was, well, female and must play the role of a 'normal lady’, she would sometimes feint interest and inspect, practicing her socializing and ‘barter’ skills. Hmm…she stared; well, she had some time…ish left, so she may as well take a gander like all the rest. She donned a casual smile and approached the stand, waiting behind the blob of ladies and courting men in front…this was going to require…quite the time, wasn’t it?
-|-
“Ninety-five silverrs” so spoke the chubby merchant behind the jewelry stand, his voice with rather the strong rhotic pronunciation, his hand waving over the jewelry on display. Silver rings for the most part, all rather bland but had elaborate patterns of sorts engraved. Cheap, affordable, and purely ‘commoner’ aesthetically; the fact that such silver rings were even affordable for women of such common-born class was a novelty in its own right, hence the popularity.
The foreigner tilted her head, contemplating ostensibly; “…ninety-five of the silvers, you said?” she replied respectfully and cordially, her own alien accent rather prominent but not incomprehensible; “…was not the price…in the fifty of silvers range the last week, no?” she inquired.
The merchant stared down at her; all he saw was a strange masked shortish Far Western girl who most likely had far more silvers on her than her appearance implied. “Oh…you know how it is these days, no? Copperr and Brronze arre worrth nothing, they keep finding morre and morre platinum and gold mines everry day, so silverr is too unstable…and the instability of silverr is not my prroblem orr fault” the merchant responded; “besides, you arre Farr Westerrn…no? Do not tell me you arre low on silverrs?” he added in remark.
The foreigner looked away somewhat, “…ehm…Far Western Colonial…more accurately, I am from the…New World” she responded; “and…there is not the many silvers to me…I am quite the…poor, in truth…” she added…somewhat embarrassed, ostensibly.
Her job barely paid enough to cover her rent, the only reason she accumulated her own surplus was due to…not needing to spend any excess silvers on basic necessities…such as food. She had a full pouch of 100 silvers, which was enough to cover one of these trinkets but…that would be 95% percent of her accumulated surplus and she was explicitly instructed not to overspend her surplus, even though such spending was only ever done to maintain an illusion of normalcy.
The merchant gasped aback; “A poorr Farr Westerrn lady? Osh frĕt ag Deygons! I have almost neverr hearrd of such a thing!” he replied in exclaim, flabbergasted sarcastically; “though…hmm…the colonies, you say? Yes…yes…that mask too, therre was anotherr one like you…I rrememberr…a New Worrld half-elf…darrk-blue hairr…worre an…even fancierr mask than you” he remarked; “…she would always come by herre…and just starre at one rring…but would…neverr buy, always saying she only had a place forr one rring on herr hand haha…I think…she just did that to taunt me orr something…she might’ve been a widow too…I think…” he remarked further, warmly recalling memories.
The foreigner, however, looked down, face evading eye contact; “…yes, I believe that I know…who you speak…about, she is…was…the friend to me…we come from the same…….colony…a place where…the…humans and the New World elves…live with the peace” she remarked, her smile fading as she donned solemn sorrow and lament; “she is…no longer here, she is…in a better…place now” she said sorrowfully.
The merchant, hearing this news, dampened somewhat, no longer as chuckly and full of humor; “That is…trragic to hearr…I was wonderring why…I haven’t seen herr in…months” he responded, saddened. “You know what…how about this: look at that rring over there” he began to say, his finger pointing at a specific silver ring.
She turned her gaze and stared. This silver ring was somewhat more elaborate and 'fancy' in its engraved patterns…and had bronze or a related shiny metal embroiled, likewise; when comparing to…similar jewelry she had seen prior and their prices, this ring was certainly above 100 silvers, or 1 gold, in value. “That is the…rring she always…looked at…I give it to you forr…hmm…let’s say…fifty-five silverrs” he said and offered cordially.
Hmm…certainly a deal, but…her ‘budget’ was no more than 50% of her surplus coin at any given moment, and 55% was still greater than 50%. She was not interested in any of these trinkets, obviously, and had no real intentions to purchase any of them. Silvers were necessary trinkets to access the many services in these lands, thus the more the better. She began to walk off; “…attractive but…another time…perhaps, there is only a hundred of the silvers to me and there is a budget” she said somewhat abruptly.
Though, actually, on second thought…she paused…she may as well practice this ‘haggling’ she had seen so often. She turned and faced the merchant again, “hmm…a second whisper enters my head…now I think…forty-nine of the silvers…I can pay, by your will” she said with a charm and deceptively natural smile as she reapproached and peered again at the stand, leaning in much closer and with greater apparent interest.
The merchant chuckled out loud at this; “You arre a cute and manipulative one, you know? You know what, fine…deal” he remarked and said.
She smiled with a faint victorious giggle; 49% of surplus was less than 50%...though…maybe she should have strived…for lower than a single percentage point below her absolute maximum. Oh well, a victory was still a victory. She took out her coin-pouch and…rather quickly and efficiently, organized 49 silver coins onto his stand in equal columns with one silver coin outlier.
“Wow…you arre the tidy and orrganized one…that was fast” he remarked as he collected the coins; “rring is yourrs, stop by again so we can chat sometime haha”.
She took the ring and waved a cordial goodbye; she affixed her coin pouch back to her belt, walking off and away. She stared down at the ring in her hand as her charm faded, her smile turning cold and flat. She felt nothing towards it…nothing at all, everything that had transpired was theatrics.
Yet…hmmm…she could maybe see why her former associate liked it so; it was…interesting…looking. Such rings and jewelry, likewise, were a sign of ‘status’ and ‘prestige’; ladies could become rather…competitive regarding such affairs and endeavors…and could be rather scornful about it too.
Thus, having one…did provide the benefit of being at least…less likely to be heckled by bejeweled ladies of higher social status…as had happened a few sometimes. Hmm…there was a specific…finger she needed to avoid…right, the ‘ring’ finger, the one next to the pinkie. She donned the ring on her left index finger, which fit rather…perfectly.
It felt weird and strange…and rather uncomfortable, but…she did just purchase it, thus…she may as well add it to her general attire schema. She looked up at the sky up high, staring as she used the sun’s position relative to the world’s rotation speed to…deduce that she was…in fact...now running…late for work. Her rather militarized march to work faded as she quickly began to…move with haste.
-||-
“Hey, mask! You’re 10 minutes late!” so lambasted the tavernkeeper, observing the foreigner stumble in timidly. He stood authoritatively behind the primary counter area of this ‘tavern’ entertainment facility. A rather rustic and primitive place, wooden construction all around, though with some fancy decoratives. Already, this place was becoming rather packed; so many denizen noises around…ugh…already mindache inducing.
She stared at the buff tavernkeeper glaring at her. « That person is your superior. Think of him as if he were your commanding presence. Follow his orders and execute them well and you will be fine, » such was how her former associate had put it. That authoritative tavernkeeper was her ‘boss’, the one to whom she had to listen and obey, for he was the one who provided her pay.
She sighed as she evaded her face down in shame, approaching the counter area; “I give the apologies to you…I became distracted by…a thing…a very silly…stupid thing” she said halting before the counter, accented voice shaded in embarrassed guilt, supported by her body language; though, her mask-obscured bagged eyes remained flat, cold, and calculative.
The tavernkeeper let out an irritated groan; “I pay you for good reason, remember that. I have certain and strict expectations; you make up for all your quirks by being studious and proficient, but you’ve been making a habit of this lately. Every day the month has been this! Even ten minutes is enough to burden your peers!” he remarked and lambasted strictly.
Her face remained down; “…I give…apologies, it has just been…hard to me lately…because she is…gone” she responded in mellow tone.
The tavernkeeper, hearing this, evaded his eyes down somewhat, his demeanor changing and loosening. “She was a good one, that’s for sure and she vouched on your behalf for good reason and I see that, but…I can’t make exceptions…be late one more time and I’ll have to cut your pay, got it?” he remarked and asserted; “…your lady grieving isn’t my problem…it’s been months…you need to get your shit back together” he added
The foreigner sighed; “certainly…” she replied.
“Good. Now, get to work” thus the tavernkeeper commanded.
She nodded before withdrawing from the counter, making way through a wooden door nearby which led to a ‘staffroom’ of sorts—a location where staff of this facility come to take a break...whenever they were actually granted one…and store any belongings in these wooden storage cubicles; no locks or seals, a mere open cube of a storage space. She placed her carry bag in one of them, a rather prominent metallic bonk being heard as she did so, for she had a…precaution…within her bag.
Thus, so began another day at her job; it was going to be…a busy monotonous day…she could already tell…ugh.
-|-
“Heya mask!” so cordially greeted a peer as the foreigner began to do her necessary objectives and tasks for this ‘job’ of hers. “Hello to you” the foreigner greeted in kind with rather the donned charm.
Her peer peered at the foreigner with a cutesy cordial lean, noticing the minor difference in her attire this day; “Let me see your…awww, that’s a nice ring! It looks lovely on you!” she remarked with a pleasant smile.
“…yes, it is; I like it…also” the foreigner responded, somewhat more awkward but still…retaining her feinting charm and donned pleasantry.
Her peer, however, leaned her head closer with a more gently mischievous smirk; “Soo…” she began to inquire, “did a special someone buy that for you…or?”
The foreigner simply nodded “No.” she replied rather frankly, “I did the buying myself”.
Her peer looked somewhat disappointed, withdrawing her leaning glare; “aww…with all the men who come here and gloat on us, you’d think one of them would have the courage to do us a favor, hmph!” she remarked with a slight pucker to the side, before looking back at the foreigner and the ring donned upon her hand; “That must’ve been expensive though…did someone at least give a fat tip or?” she remarked and asked.
“…I just do not…spend a lot…so I saved…I am what they call the ‘cheap’” the foreigner replied cordially.
Her peer giggled, “Haha! Yeah…I think can see that, the way you hoard your tips…” she remarked, before exhaling a calming breath; “…well’nyway, uhm…first day of the new year…so it’s gonna be restless…I need you to …” thus she began to instruct to the foreigner, new tasks given.
The foreigner’s general tasks tended to be cleaning the tables as soon as the ‘patrons’ or ‘customers’ departed, filling and providing the denizen patrons their ‘beverages’ of cognitive impairing properties, helping her peers in their own tasks, such and such: all mundane and tedious labor.
She had no issues in executing such tasks, however, nor did she have any problems with the…long and thankless hours—especially for this day where none would be able to leave until well past sunset. In fact, due to her…studious diligences and high tolerances, she often worked well past closing hours in order to tidy up the facility for the next day—for additional…menial compensation. She was used to operating for even longer periods of time, truth be told…days and weeks of continuous operation.
As the day dragged on as she did her doings, the workload only intensified as more and more patrons arrived in even greater blobs and intensity. They filled this entire space with their…denizen…noises. Shouting, chatting, laughing, hackling, so many noises of so many pitches and intensities…it was all rather…annoying deep down within, truth be told, even if she could not comprehend it in full.
Yet, as the sun made way past noon, it only became so much worse.
The tavernkeeper himself became preoccupied with the intensity and load of patrons and their endless intoxicated demands; without his supervision and oversight, squabbles and…problems began to quickly emerge. There were only so many tavern maids to go around to deal with every problem; indeed, they were rather outnumbered. Besides, they were…tavern maids—servantile ladies who…in spite of their occupation…struggled in asserting and making demands to angry men.
Most of her lady peers were far too timid and…socially hesitant to really intervene as a result; she herself, however, had no such frameworks and burdens of social expectations…making her a more de-facto ‘enforcer’ of sorts when necessary, even if the drunken men laughed and mocked.
“Hey, you! Mask! Hey, come come! Haha!” so heckled with a wave an armored man sitting with other armored men around this small but efficient table. Truly…with all these denizens crowding in this facility…making an endless stampede of their…noises, she struggled to even make out their hails vocating for her.
She donned a charming smile as she approached, squeezing her way through denizen after denizen. « Salvét—ehem » “—I greet you all, fine sirs!” she greeted with a cordial charm; “and what may I do for you all in this…night?” she asked with a feinting smile.
“Oh, you know…the usual, but…we just wanted to chat haha” so said the armored man, a familiar patron. “More like you wanted to chat haha!” so laughingly remarked one of his armored peers.
The foreigner sighed faintly…humoring and socializing was also part of this…job…ugh. She had not the time to spare but…she was not necessarily allowed to say no; thus, she had not the choice but to acquiesce. “Certainly! It is pleasing to me to chat!” she responded with feinted delight, one of the armored men making a seat just for her…on which she had not the choice but to sit.
These armored men were an interesting bunch, different from the typical denizen security forces she had seen. They were not military, rather they were…these ‘adventurers’ associated with this ‘guild’ or whatever. She had seen quite a few of these ‘adventurer’ types during her time as a tavern waitress, and they were always the most…peculiarly armored and armed individuals…usually dependent on their ‘rank’.
The lowest-rank she had heard of was…‘Copper’, and they tended to be…more poorly armed and were armored in only the most basic fashions. The highest-ranked adventurer she had seen in her entire year of being here was a ‘Sapphire’, though apparently there were two higher ranks above that.
That ‘Sapphire’ adventurer in particular, she remembered, had donned impractically bulky and heavy armor of…exotic origins and materials—material compounds which far surpassed the manufacturing capabilities of these lands, seemingly. They had drunkenly stated that they had ‘looted’ their ‘gear’ from a ‘high-ranking’ ‘demi-divine’…erm…something—she did not remember the details, to be honest, for their voice had been…rather…unappealing.
Regardless, this ‘party’ of adventurers in particular were among the more…abundant ranks she had seen: Silver—‘dead center’ on their ‘ten-rank’ scheme, so she had heard. Likewise, these ones also seemed to…‘fancy’ her, for better or worse. “Come on, sit sit!” so implored one of the adventurer patron’s peers.
She took her seat, maintaining her charm and smile…even if it was becoming rather difficult and exhausting to retain; “You fine sirs are with the…happiness this night” she remarked cordially.
“Of course, we are! We just got back from clearing a dungeon! An actual dungeon! Gods’ sacred toilet, you know how rare those quests are these days? Fattest thickest pay our party’s ever received, we’re celebrating tonight heha!” the adventurer patron remarked in intoxicated glee and joy; “and…I get to talk to you, fine lady” he added…intentively.
“Oh, how you…flatter me so” she responded, ‘flattered’.
The adventurer patron took one large gulp of his cognitively impairing liquid substance, one which was creamy and foamy but smelled…not exactly…pleasant—in fact…she was rather sick of that scent…it was one that disabled her own brain just by smelling it. He sighed; “…ahh…you know, our profession is a dying one…shit’s changing every fucking year…only thing we can do is celebrate that our tradition is still alive this new year…and hope that it survives the next…” he remarked solemnly.
“…we might just be the last generation of adventurers, I say…by the time I finally settle down and have kids…the Guild’s gonna be just a story…and I want to make sure…I’ve got good stories to tell them” he remarked further; “I keep getting offers from merc after merc, ‘oh we could use your special adventurer skills and whatnots, don’t ya see the Guild’s dying’ but…I say to that: Demon-King fuck your dad’s asshole! That’s what! They don’t get it! We aren’t mercs…the Guild’s the…well it’s the Guild! It just ain’t the same…you know? Just isn’t…” he drunkenly rambled onwards in lament.
“…and you know…the Guild isn’t the same either…hasn’t been for decades and decades and decades…you know either we die or…evolve so much we aren’t even what were before…in both cases…we go extinct, you know? But…burps…whatever the case be…imma stick with it until the fucking end, just so I can say: see kids and grandkids, I was there till the end!” he rambled in finality, she having not the choice but to listen and nod along with a smile...“…well, I hope that the future to you is…goodest” she finally spoke in reply.
The men chuckled; “You just have the funkiest ways of saying things, you know? Haha!” so…complemented…one of them.
Yet, “Hey, mask!” so suddenly arrived a peer of hers, hair rather…messy, eyes bagged, visibly stressed; “…quit being lazy and flirting around! I need your help! Now!” she reprimanded and stated.
The foreigner sighed as she courteously stood up; “Well, it is time of departing” she remarked with a gracious bow before following her peer…for indeed, she had much the work needing to be done. The evening was only going to become even busier and busier.
To make matters more irritating, in these lands the first festive day of the new year was merely the prelude to the second festive day of the new year: the actual day of celebration and rejoice; the day during which everything shutdown as everyone took a break to celebrate—besides, of course, those unlucky few like her and her peers. This day was already a noise infested mess, she lamented to even comprehend what tomorrow had to bring.
Truly, in moments like these, she could not help but constantly wonder what in this domain of reality was she even doing anymore.
