Shared Drink, Shared Stories

The pub smelled of roasted meat, spilled ale, and the faint tang of melting snow from the boots of soldiers tracking through the door. Lanterns swung gently above the tables, casting warm light over the rough wooden beams and the cluster of faces around one long table. The adults had already started to feel the heat of the drinks they carried in wooden mugs.

Lysandra, sitting cross-legged on her chair and leaning too far back, had clearly had more than her fill. Her lavender hair glinted in the lantern light, loose strands catching on the hot air of the room. She waved a hand in the air and grinned, eyes half-lidded. “You know,” she slurred slightly, “I was sent here… for money. My family, rotten little nobles, thought sending me to the frozen north would solve their debts. Seventh child, child after child... just for the money. And… Well, I was expected to die.” She laughed, the sound loud and surprisingly cheerful. “Can you believe that? They really expected me to freeze to death or get eaten by some frost demon spirit monster thing.”

Branek leaned back in his chair, stroking his graying beard, and snorted. “Hah. The girl's babbling about her life again after a couple drinks." He looked down at Akari. "Plenty of people in the north have stories like that. Weak families, blind ambition, the world dumping trouble on the next poor soul. Once you survive a good long while, it’s just another normal tale here.”

Lysandra laughed, tipping her mug in Branek’s direction. “See? That’s what I mean. Once you survive it, you can almost laugh at the absurdity. And now that I’m no longer giving them money… Well, I’m free. Free to annoy all of you with my stories as much as I like.” She leaned forward, sloshing a bit of ale as she did, her grin infectious. “And yes... I’ll probably tell it again if I get bored.”

Ansel, who had been quietly observing from the edge of the table, gave a small, wry smile. “Lottery sent me here after I graduated from training… The excuse was that I'm a distant cousin to the head priestess. I doubt anyone else wanted to come north. But after everything that happened, I stayed. These people,” he gestured to the fortress, “they need care. I couldn’t leave.” He tapped his temple lightly, a gesture of thoughtfulness, his quiet demeanor unshaken by the noise of the pub.

Branek chuckled softly and leaned back. “And I’m a northern native. Seen this place in sun, snow, and storm. Noel, I met your mother,” he said, glancing at the exiled noble, “when she was a mage for the north. Stubborn, brilliant, and loyal to the people above all else. Couldn’t stand by while the north suffered even when her own family pleaded with her to stop fighting. She left her mark, that one.” Branek’s eyes softened with memory. “Even if she can't be here anymore, it seems like her blood can't help but return back to this godforsaken place.”

Noel’s eyes flicked down to his mug, tapping it lightly. “It's too bad my mother can't return here. We both… Lysandra and I, we know what it is to be overlooked by our families,” he said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “It’s not exactly a pleasant history, but it shapes you.” He didn’t say more; the words were measured, the past left mostly in the shadows for now. Akari noticed the weight behind them and tucked it away for later consideration.

Lysandra wobbled slightly in her chair, resting her elbow on the table. “See? Nothing is unique in this frozen hell besides the details of how we got here. But who cares in the end? Those who aren't from here are free! Freedom tastes better than the ale,” she added, causing Branek to chuckle and Ansel to shake his head with a soft smile.

Akari stepped closer to Noel, brushing her tail lightly against his arm. He looked down, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “And you?” he asked, voice low. “You’ve survived the northern cold, and yet you managed to… make it here in one piece.” His eyes crinkled in a smirk. “Though, technically, I think I stole your first little home here. That lamp you woke up in, consider it mine.”

Akari’s ears twitched. She grinned, teasing. “Maybe if you weren’t such a thief, I wouldn't do this!"

The fox blew a hot bit of air in Noel's face which caused him to choke on his drink before mockingly bowing in a fake, apologetic manner.

It was lighthearted, a moment of levity that broke the lingering tension from patrols and icy paths. Noel shook his head, but a small laugh escaped him, rare and genuine.

The pub had grown louder, laughter and shouts echoing against the stone walls. The fire roared in the hearth, sending sparks dancing across the room. The smell of the roasted meat and fresh bread mingled with the tang of spilled ale. Conversations overlapped, and the sense of camaraderie filled every corner of the room. The squad began to relax further, slipping into the warmth of shared experience.

Branek leaned over to share a story of a past northern patrol with Noel, pointing out hazards they had missed in prior missions. Lysandra interrupted occasionally with drunken anecdotes, all of which drew knowing nods from Ansel, who listened with a mix of amusement and respect.

Noel rose quietly, muttering that he needed some fresh air. Akari’s ears twitched, and without hesitation, she followed him outside, her paws crunching in the thin snow that had begun to settle near the door.

The cool wind hit them, bracing and sharp, contrasting with the warmth inside, yet it felt necessary. An interval of clarity and a moment to consider the day and what lay ahead. Noel sipped his drink silently, gazing at the drifting snow.

Akari padded closer, tilting her head as she observed him. “You okay?” she asked softly.

Noel’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, and he muttered simply, “No.”

The sound was quiet, almost lost in the wind, but the weight behind it was palpable.