15 – High Ponderings

This was my first time visiting the village of Brenick. The streets were lit with emberstones pulsing faintly in their lanterns. It was one of those classic medieval villages with wood and whitewashed houses, curling eaves, and hand-painted signs that hung in front of the shops. Everything looked quaint and mystical, which was enhanced by the fact that I was completely toasted.

That stonegrass was strong.

But not in an anxiety-inducing, heart-racing, did I just ruin my life kind of way. This fantasy world weed was mellower. It just made the world look more like a comic book and made me want to laugh. And eat.

We were all feeling that part.

Bagavash led the way down the cobblestone streets. He was surprisingly tight-lipped for how much he had smoked. Meanwhile, Linli and Erl were absolutely losing their shit over some joke Myrl had said.

Something about “prophetic cornhuskers” and a “lady of the night with dysentery.” It had gone completely over my head. I considered asking for clarification, then immediately decided against it. Some things were better left a mystery.

We passed a bakery with darkened windows and a lingering smell of sweet bread, a general store with bundles of dried herbs hanging in the doorway, and a narrow alley where two men were quietly arguing over what looked like a chicken.

Despite the late hour, the village felt alive.

Bagavash came to a halt in front of a low building with warm light spilling out into the street. The sign had a picture of two sudsy tankards clanking together.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his arms spread wide like he was surveying a kingdom. “I give you: The Besotted Beast.”

“Thanks for that, Bag,” Linli said. “We’ve only been here a million times.”

“Well, Mark hasn’t,” Bagavash said, his grand presentation deflating slightly as he gestured back at me. “I thought it appropriate.”

“Aye, that’s right,” the little wizard said, clapping me on the shoulder with enough force to nearly spin me. “Lad, this is the only respectable place for a wizard to grab a drink in this town. Not like those fops who frequent Rune & Barrel.”

“Hey, I like Rune & Barrel.” Erl bemoaned.

“You would,” Linli said. “Nothing but overpriced ale and dishes that are trying too hard.”

“There’s nothing wrong with an elevated experience,” Erl insisted.

“Elevated. Sure.” Linli said.

Bagavash cleared his throat, attempting to reclaim some dignity. “If we’re quite finished reviewing the local eating establishments, then I suggest we proceed with the evening’s true purpose.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

Linli grinned, already heading for the door. “Why, lad,” he said, pushing it open and letting a wave of warmth and noise spill out into the street, “to get us some mutton!”

We filed into the crowded tavern, one after another. It smelled like roasted meat, old ale, wet wool, and woodsmoke. Not in a bad way, either. In a rich, peasant-core kind of way. The air was warm enough that my face immediately flushed when we stepped inside, and every surface seemed to glow amber in the firelight. Someone in the corner was half playing, half strangling a fiddle.

Honestly, it was perfect.

It was the sort of place that made you feel like you ought to become a regular immediately. Luckily, a group of drunken farmers was just leaving, and five spots opened up at the bar.

Bagavash settled onto his stool with all the solemn dignity of a king taking his throne, which was somewhat undermined by the fact that he kept smiling at absolutely nothing. His eyes had that bright, glassy look that said he was still drifting pleasantly somewhere above his own skull.

“Hey there, Bagavash,” the barmaid said, leaning over the counter and twirling a strand of her strawberry hair on her finger. “I didn’t think you’d be in tonight.”

I glanced back and forth between Myrl and Linli, who were seated on either side of me.

Linli leaned in and whispered, “Let’s just say old Bag here is well known among the ladies of the town.”

Myrl just shrugged. “Every wizard needs a vice, I suppose.”

“Aster!” Bagavash said a little too excitedly. “I’ve brought friends, and we’re, well… hungry!”

Aster stared probingly into the old wizard’s eyes. “Why Bagavash, are you high?”

“No… sorta… well, yes,” he finally admitted.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “You know I’ve offered you a puff on countless occasions, and you always turned me down.”

Bagavash just shrugged, putting his hands up in an “I don’t know” gesture.

“Myrl,” she said, turning to the tall, wiry mage. “You got him like this, didn’t you?”

“We’re celebrating,” Myrl explained. “We cleared the Charred Forest Rift today.”

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A few of the bar patrons who overheard raised their tankards and gave a little cheer.

“So that explains the sordid state of your clothes,” Aster said. “And why Linli isn’t wearing a shirt.”

“Aye, that’d be it,” Erl said.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you,” she said. “Those lava-spitting spiders that escaped were getting a little too close to town.” She turned her amber eyes on me. “Who’s the new guy?”

“A wandering wizard we picked up the other day,” Myrl said, clasping my shoulders. “His name’s Mark. He’s still pretty low level, but he’s a Blue Wizard now.”

“Good on you,” Aster said. “Just between you and me, those White Wizards are a bunch of insane pricks. You picked the right tower.”

“Thanks,” I said, a little sheepishly. “I think so too.”

“So,” she said, “what’ll it be, boys?”

“Five orders of your finest mutton,” Linli announced, ordering for all of us.

The other wizards nodded their heads in unison.

I’d never had mutton before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when the huge, greasy hunks of bone-in meat arrived on individual platters, my mouth started to water.

“Enjoy,” Aster said. Then, after a lingering look at Bagavash, she wandered off to tend to other customers.

Linli closed his eyes for a second like a man in prayer. “My lady,” he whispered to the plate.

“Control yourself,” Myrl muttered.