Our day on the town started off innocently enough. We grabbed a bite to eat at one of the local tavern’s first. The food there wasn’t as good as what we were used to, but it was hearty and filling. More importantly than the food, however, was the drink. Large glasses of frothing golden liquid were being passed around and consumed by nearly everyone in the establishment. Al unreservedly ordered us all some glasses of our own, spending the pocket money that Goran had given him for his help on scripting projects.

  The girls and Magor eyed the drinks suspiciously, seemingly doubtful of their contents. But when Al started throwing back his own mug, I followed suit. It had hints of fruit and wheat, with a strong bitter aftertaste that reminded me a little of the gleanberries. Alcohol wasn’t entirely unknown to us in Brynn, but we only had it in small doses and on special occasions. Even then, it was mostly fruit alcohol. It was nothing like this. The drink had a full and hearty flavor only enhanced by the astringency. It filled my stomach and started to burn a little. I felt myself relax a little further and I took a bite of the fried meat they had served us.

  The girls had downed their own glasses when they saw me do mine, and eventually we got Magor to join in on the fun as well. Two or three glasses in, the girls and Al were swaying and hiccupping in their seats. By contrast, both Magor and I were still mostly untouched, despite the fact that we had kept pace with the others. Our relative sobriety was a blessing and a curse. While it allowed us to keep clearer heads and make smarter decisions, it also meant that we were the people tasked with holding the others back.

  Ann had grown particularly boisterous, talking riotously at Magor about her various successes and wins in combat in the past. That didn’t stop her from also being affectionate as well, of course, and she switched between shouting about the Harai she skewered and slapping Magor on the back or running her fingers through his hair affectionately. The noise in the tavern made it hard to hear much, but I could make out most of her conversation, including:

  “You could probably make for a decent warrior yourself big fella! Why not join us in one of our hunts. Don’t worry! Big sis will make sure you won’t get hurt.”

  I would have liked to go rescue him, but I had problems of my own to deal with. Julia had collapsed in my shoulder, strangely weepy in contrast to my sister’s gregarious antics. I had spent the last five minutes baffled on how I could comfort her, terrified that the alcohol had made her more depressed. What came out of her mouth, though, was stranger than I could have anticipated:

  “Steeeve! Mina has been suuper mean to us. Ann and I don’t have a lot of other girls to talk to, cause’ Lynn is so busy with the kids. But every time I try to go talk to her, *hic*, Mina just says she’s busy. I’m busy toooo! I just want someone to talk to in what tiny downtime we have. But Mina gives us the cold shoulder. Ann’s given up on her, but I don’t wanna!”

  She punctuated her sentence with another swig of the beer, and I was starting to get a little concerned for her intake. Gently moving the stein away from her hands, I responded to her complaints, wondering what the heck I was even supposed to say anyways:

  “Well, you can’t be liked by everyone. Ann knows that. Some people just don’t want to get along with you, for whatever reason, and you usually can’t force that type of thing if they’ve made up their mind. Try to put yourself in Mina’s shoes. The Mira family had been very generous in letting us stay, but you can’t expect that type of open-mindedness from everyone. Society needs its cynics, and being cautious of outsiders is only rational.”

  “Don’t take her siiide. I know all that in my head, it’s my heart that doesn’t get it. Why not let down your guard just a little? There’s a lot you could gain from just giving people a chance?”

  There wasn’t much to say after that, as no one was fully right or wrong here. I just chose to pat her on the back as soothingly as I was able. I soon found that distracting her by feeding her was more effective than any talk, and she was soon raving about the fried meat and vegetables instead of glum topics, earlier sadness quickly forgotten. With Julia placated and Ann distracted, the only person I was still worried about was Al.

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  The bullet-headed young boy swayed steadily, tapping his fingers in the table in sporadic fashion. His eyes flickered all over the tavern, like he didn’t want to miss a single detail, mouth moving to articulate otherwise hidden thoughts. Those energetic brown eyes soon fell to a smaller table, where two bored looking gentlemen were sitting quietly with their drinks. He got up from the table and sauntered over towards them. I tapped Julia and she got my message, proceeding to follow me as I stalked our wayward friend. I made it to the table just in time to hear the end of Al’s opening statement:

  “-friendly wager?” Al was saying mischievously, waggling his eyebrows in a challenging manner. The two Maegar at the table, both civilians, looked skeptically at the human interloper. The bigger of the two, and the more drunk by the unfocused look in his eyes, blurted out a response:

  “What kind of wager were you thinking of, tiny human?”

  I groaned internally as Al pulled dice out of his pocket. They took his bait, because of course they did. The game he was proposing was simple and common in our homeland. The game master would put some dice in a wooden mug and shuffle that mug around on a hard surface while the other party counted to ten. Once it was over, the other party guessed the sum of the three dice, and the mug was uncovered. If the guesser was within 2 of the final total, they won. If not, then the shuffler won. Both parties bet valuables on the dice ahead of time.

  If you took the time to consider the probabilities, the guesser had a slight advantage if they picked 11 or 10. In theory there wouldn’t be enough drama to make an interesting game, so for many it was just an idle game to pass the time. Assuming the game master was playing by the normal rules…

  “Five, five, four makes 14! Too bad, my friend.”

  As I watched with trepidation, Al had gotten the Maegar men to accept his game. They started with small wagers, most of which the Maegar opponent managed to win by guessing 11, 10, or 9, as you would have expected. A small crowd had been summoned by the excitement, gathering around the table, and speculating on the outcomes. Predictably, Al had decided to up the ante with this last throw of the dice, putting what looked to be the last of his obsidian metal chips on the table. These chips were commonly exchanged for valuables in Mahria’s culture.

  Warming up to the competition, his opponent had gleefully matched the bet, only to be crushed when his bet of 11 was barely out of the money. Flustered, he bet the same amount again, only to be beaten again when his guess of 10 was barely too far above the role of 7. With that, Al made all his losses back and then some. His original opponent had had enough, but there were others who we still interested in trying their luck. The game went on for some time as the crowd grew larger and larger.

  Al started to alternate opponents for every role, giving each man the choice of what he wanted to bet. When Al would lose, he got more patrons interested in the wager and hopeful to make some extra money. When some of those patrons lost, they would often clamor for a rematch in hopes of making their money back. In the heat of all the competition, few noticed that Al’s own purse was the only one getting inexorably heavier. I couldn’t tell you exactly how he was rigging things, but I would sooner believe that the world was ruled be Nieyr disguised as people than assume this was dumb luck.

  Al was working the crowd masterfully, though. They were practically throwing money at the man, and I think even he started to get a little guilty at the whole sordid affair. He didn’t stop, though, and I was eventually forced to intervene. Al had just lost a small sum in a recent wager. He probably had several plans in the works to make it back, but I took the chance as a good opportunity to cut in. I pushed gently, but firmly, to the front of the crowd:

  “Alright Alfred, you’ve had plenty of fun, haven’t you? But the girls want to see the rest of the city, and Magor seems bored. Why don’t we wrap this up and move on.”

  Al looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but he stifled any objections silently and nodded in reservation. Even if it was a friendly game that everybody had agreed to, cheating the citizens of the city out of their money was morally dubious. Even if he wasn’t cheating, which Al would vociferously insist upon later, this was still something that had the chance to create friction later. The crowd reluctantly let us go, seemingly wanting to continue the game and win back their losses but polite enough not to force the issue.

  We hit the streets again and did some simple sightseeing. Ann and Julia had done more exploring than we had, so they brought the rest of us to some of their favorite places. Magor was kind enough to provide additional commentary on each location, explaining the significance of certain historical landmarks and even giving us the history of a particularly famous sweet shop. Both girls lapped it up, chattering nonstop with Magor about each place after they started to sober up. I was quietly interested in a lot of that, but the conversation got oversaturated enough that I eventually started to tune it out. Al mostly just counted his money while we walked.

  After a few hours of that, the lights began to dim, signaling the end of the day. Grateful for the rest but ready to get back to work tomorrow, we leisurely walked back home, ate a late dinner, and fell into a peaceful sleep.