Arrival at Bucharion's Pass

After spending the better part of the remaining afternoon discussing the importance of everyone voicing their opinions freely when it concerned the group, we pulled into Bucharion’s Pass as the sun had begun to set. 

Looking out, I admired as the fading light cast long shadows over the city set into the mountainside. Deep in the Great Divider Mountain Range, this grand canyon had been built up on both sides with geometric stone structures that formed into houses, factories, stairs and cranes. It was a flawless merger of monolithic Art Deco architecture and industrial functionality, fused by intricate surface details and a grey-washed hue. But despite its push towards industrialization, the city had not separated itself from the towering trees of the forest we had been travelling through. Pines rose from neighbourhoods, and trailing vines of flowering plants hung from the tops of carved caverns, mirroring the glimmering beauty of waterfalls that fed the river our carriage had been following up to that point. 

Constructed at the back of the city, bridging both canyon walls, a massive dam stood nearly six hundred feet tall and held back the water powering the city's industrial drive. Someone new to the nation may not see it at first, but I understood that this feature was used to turn the wheels of every crane and elevator in the city. It powered sawmills and textile looms to produce crafts. It was even used for grinding grains into flour along the river and turning drills deep underground. And as we arrived at the exact moment when day became night, we got to watch as the falling water pushed the two halves of a grand runic symbol together, activating its magic and immediately lighting every arcane torch across the city in an instant.

"Whoaaa." We all gasped in unison as an orange glow took hold of the dim city.

As we marvelled from our carriage windows, enjoying the full view of the city in these twilit hours, I did my best to point out various features I had made sure to include. I explained to my companions how the dam was built in segments over the last hundred years. Tracing my finger along the window, I showed off aqueducts that led to granaries and lumber mills, providing the waterpower for production. Passing through the first layer of gates, I directed the triop's attention to a quarantined part of the town that had been closed off almost eight years ago, explaining to them about the demon that emerged to seek revenge on those who had dug too deep.

“This is one of my favourite cities I've ever dreamt up,” I said proudly as the carts began to round the final bend before the Caravan Guild House. “Top ten, for sure.”

“It's very pretty,” Aesandoral complimented me as she reached over, gently grabbing my forearm and staring into my eyes. "You did a great job!"

I felt my heart swell at her touch. The way she looked at me, praising the work I had done in a story I loved so dearly, filled me with happiness. So few people had ever complimented me on the creation I had painstakingly written. So few had ever even read it. But the way she spoke to me, as someone who lived in this world, made me feel appreciated in a way I could have never imagined.

Losing control of myself, I leaned forward. I wanted to kiss her, consequences be damned. And I would have done so, had it not been for the loud grumble that caused Aesandoral to grip her stomach and blush. 

“So where’s the best tavern?" She asked, pulling away with a shy smile. "I’m hungry.”

“Oh, I-umm-I, heh—" I stammered, rubbing at the back of my head as I realized how close I had come to making a contractual faux pas. "There’s only one tavern really worth it here. It's where all the locals go after work. Once we stop, we’ll head straight there.”

As though by my command, the carriage came to a halt, and a small whistle sounded, marking the end of the day’s travel and our arrival at Bucharion's Pass. Departing from our week-long compartment, I stretched out my legs while looking around the large tree our caravan had encircled. With a glance to the side, I noticed the several hundred steps I had pointed out while discussing the city lore and with a wave of my hand to the triop, began to march towards the carved staircase.

The tavern we were looking for was built into the mountainside roughly three-quarters of the way up the city’s height. It was a long march from the caravan's stop, as we moved through crowds of dirty, drunken miners that gave our clean figures curious looks. Ignoring the obvious stares, we marched higher and higher, eventually climbing above the distant treeline that marked the edge of the city. Taking a moment, I paused, glancing out over the mountainous region we had been travelling through. With a smile, I eyed the stars that began to twinkle to life above the pitch-black outline of dark mountains. But I would only be allowed that brief moment as the growling stomachs of my companions dictated that I would need to enjoy the view some other time.

Finally reaching our destination, the building looked unimpressive, nothing more than a hole in the cliffside marked by a door and a wooden sign of a bleating goat. This was the Rowdy Goat, a prime example of drunken fun, set far enough away from markets and inns that most adventurers steered clear of the dive bar-looking establishment. As we pushed into the tavern, we were greeted by an equally disappointing interior. The space itself was cramped with a handful of near-empty tables, where disgruntled drunks huddled into their steins of ale. Built into the walls, half a dozen casks, larger than the entrance itself, displayed a mouldy exterior that would turn off anyone from drinking at first sight. Finally, a barkeep who ignored us rested against the bar, cleaning glass and whistling a tune that sounded surprisingly close to that one song about wanting to rule the world.

“Wow, really nice, Iz,” Rionriv remarked sarcastically. "You bring us to the nicest places."

“Well, the food may be good—” Aesandoral followed up in an attempt to defend me. “I’m sure it’s great, Iz.”

“What?” I replied quickly, waving off the comment before reaching into my bag. “Oh no, this isn’t the tavern—this is the lobby.”

Passing the barkeep, I tossed him twelve silver coins, enough to cover the entrance fee for our group, before making my way towards one of the giant casks that was fixed to the adjacent wall. With a glance back at my companions, I smirked before giving the tap a yank, and, with a heavy clunk sounding from the other side, the cask opened. We were immediately hit with a wave of heat and moisture that radiated outward and stuck to our skin, coating us with the smells of sweat and ale. Deep within, beyond the glow of the arcane torchlight, we heard a bell ding three times as a crowd of hundreds cheered wildly.

As I looked back from the stone steps descending into the mountain, I caught a glimpse of the triop as they stared in disbelief. After a slight bow to them, I trotted down the stairs, descending almost sixty feet before emerging into a giant egg-shaped cavern. This was the Rowdy Goat.

I admired the view of the stands beyond the backs of heads and the expanse of the hollow interior, where people cheered and hollered. To the side of us, a secondary cave had been opened up, revealing barred walls and a series of kiosks operated by well-dressed attendants who helped patrons place bets. I knew there were more caves like this attached to the exterior walkway, filled with gambling tables or lounges where those not interested in bets could meet in relative peace.

But the main focus of this establishment wasn't just the food and drink or the lounge. It was what lay at the bottom of the cavernous, egg-shaped room. There, at the center of a sizable ring, brawling matches were held for the crowd's enjoyment. A crowd that sat in the carved rows of seating with sturdy wooden tables before them, covering nearly every surface of the cavern.

“Hi, welcome to the Rowdy Goat.” A woman in tailored pants and a dapper blouse approached us. “I haven’t seen you around here before. New?”

“Yes, looking for a table for four,” I answered reflexively. “If that’s possible.”

“Oh, we’ve got room, just take one of the rows in Section Thirteen." She replied, directing us with her hand. "There are red and blue flags at the end of the tables, just flick them up for service. Red for food, blue for drinks. Two silver per plate, five copper per stein. We’ll tally your bill at the end.”

Giving her my thanks, I led the gobsmacked triop behind me to the proper section and weasled my way into a table with four seats. As we sat, flicking up the flags, I turned towards my companions.

“Well, whatcha think?” I asked, leaning over the table to catch a glimpse at all three. “Cool, huh?”

“This is so cool!” Aesandoral cried out over the cacophony of voices."And you...you know—designed this?"

"Yeah!" I yelled over the crowd in response. "I always dreamt of coming here!"

Just then, a waiter came by, dropping off four steins of ale and sliding each of us a big lamb shank. Without a word, he stepped back, flipped our flags down and walked away. With how many people they had to serve in a night, customer service took a nosedive. But the kitchen made up for it with how quickly each table was dealt with.

“Wow, that’s a decent amount of food and drink for the price,” Rionriv remarked, taking a bite of the lamb and sinking into her seat. “And it's good too!”

“Yeah, the tavern takes a portion of every brawl bet made. They make a decent amount that way, so the food and drinks are a relatively good price.”

“Bets?” Aesandoral asked, her mouth full of meat and drink. “Were those the cages?”

“Yeah,” I responded before taking a swig of ale. “About thirty minutes before a bout, they open for bets. This is a place for the miners of the city to blow off steam and potentially make some more money while they’re at it.”

At that, the crowd went wild at the sound of the bell below ringing thrice. I shifted my view down towards the ring, where a towering man hovered over a badly beaten figure. The referee stood beside him, holding up his arm in victory before pulling out a small object.

"And there you have it, folks!" He announced, his voice booming over the space, echoing around every wall. "Another victory! Can no one last more than one round against this up-and-coming multi-night champion? Sign up now to put yourself in the ring tonight to try and snatch the title from Jack! The Haaaammmmmmeeeerrrr"

I listened as the patrons roared ever louder as they began a chant on behalf of Jack. With a sigh, I felt the rumbling stands beneath me, the electricity of the crowd flowing through my body. It excited me as much as taking on the statue, Kr'throc, or the dragon.

Turning my head, I watched as the triop looked at each other, then at me, smirks widening across their faces. It was one of those smirks that I had been getting a lot of lately. The ones that informed me that my companions had found a way to use me for money. Specifically, use my body. 

And not in a fun way.

“Iz,” Rionriv looked at me wantingly, the tiger ears atop her head twitching cutely as a tail curled around her side and vibrated. “Iz, will you be a big, strong man and go fight?”

“No,” I replied, taking a drink of my ale. “You can’t just pull that out whenever you want something.”

“Iz,” Aesandoral now joined in, her big green eyes staring me down as she twiddled with the hair on the side of her pouty face. “I’d really like it if you fought on our behalf. We’ll even share our winnings with you.”

“I—uh, I—” I stuttered, feeling myself want to give in and say yes just because it was Aesandoral asking. 

That was when Sharzin cut in.

“Aes, say you’ll give him a—” The groundling pulled the elf down to her level, whispering something into her ear. 

I had never seen Aesandoral’s face turn so red so fast. Her big eyes grew wider as she bit her lip before glancing at me. Our eyes met, and embarrassment flooded her face as she turned immediately back to Sharzin

“And I do that with my mouth?!” Aesandoral shouted in reply.

“I, uhh—I’ll just go sign up now!” I yelled out, rushing away, the perverted thought settling in my mind. 

And, as I fled, I could have sworn I heard a gild drop to the table behind me.