The Grey Tower

Paks wasn’t entirely sure how Alric was going to manage to sneak out of the Tower Grounds, but she told him to meet her by the giant oak tree that was the center of the green nearest the entrance to the Tower. The meeting point was close to the Tower, but not so close that the guards could see who came and went. The pair had been threatening to share a night out and swap stories over ale, mead, or whatever happened to be the drink of choice since the first day the pair met.

The Drin had no trouble making friends, and no trouble finding people to share in a drink or two (or more) during her seemingly frequent visits into Hama Valon. Often, those visits wound up with her in their beds. She wasn’t planning on anything of the sort happening with Alric. Not that he wasn’t attractive. . .it was more about the logistics. Both of them had roommates, and Paks’ roommate despised her nefarious ways. How she missed Fiona!

Casually leaning up against the tree, Paks watched people come and go, her eye drawn to the occasional fair lass. One or two of those lasses looked back, flashing Paks a grin which earned them her characteristic smirk. She somehow doubted Alric would mind her flirtatious nature, and perhaps he’d join her in the fun. If one or both of them managed to find someone to share the rest of the evening with, then so much the better.

If asked, Paks would say the nights out were a way to blow off steam. Since leaving home, she made the decision not to dwell on the negative. Things happen, life goes on, and be grateful for your chance to continue living. There might be a reckoning for the Drin, but she’d cross that bridge when it was before her. For now? She’d carry on as she had, and enjoy an evening out with a fellow Mayener. . .if he ever showed. Paks wasn’t one to fidget, but she was beginning to wonder if Alric might have been caught in his attempt to sneak out.

Though he used them, Alric was of two minds about bribes. Accepting bribes led to all manner of corruption, but during his time as an officer he’d found that greasing the occasional palm made things much easier for him and his men. Choice marching order, camp spots away from the horse lines and latrines, and even for timely medical care. Sometimes a bribe had been the only way to get necessities such as replacement boots on time. At the same time he was hell on any of his own men he caught taking a bribe; maybe that made him a hypocrite.

Either way, he still felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach as he slipped the guardsman, Teft, a pair of silvers. Without making eye contact the man slide the small Kitchen Gate open and Alric set off into the night. He was out of the Tower and free to do as he pleased, but he was also undermining the Tower’s integrity. I’ve snuck out before as a recruit, he thought trying to rationalize to himself. It had been years but his time as Captain Aurella still defined much of who he was.

Alric walked out into the warm Hama Valon evening. Gone was his long black coat, he wore a deep blue wool coat, he’d bought off a Drin, in its stead. Surprisingly the coat even fit properly on his shoulders. Sniffing out grey markets and contraband smugglers was another skill of an effective officer. As well as knowing how much of a blind eye to turn. Alric angled towards his and Paks’ meeting spot, enjoying the evening crowds. He’d always loved this time when day turned to night and workers turned to revelers. Streetlamps were just being lit casting the world in an orange glow and the Sun had yet to fully set. Drawn by the savory smell of meats and spices, Alric stopped by a street food vendor and exchanged a few coppers for a pair of flaky hand-pies stuffed with meat and vegetables.

After a wrong turn or two, Alric finally found the Oak tree, approaching from the south of all directions. He had finished his pie and hungrily eyed the second. Paks wouldn’t mind, she didn’t even know he had them in the first place. No, he’d gotten it for his friend. His stomach rumbled again in protest. The pie had only whetted his appetite. He found his friend looking off to the north. He approached careful not to step on any leaves and leaned against the tree. “See any cute ones?” he asked with a grin as he proffered the other pie.

Paks snapped her head towards the familiar voice, and shot Alric a look, though her smirk was quick to follow, “Better be careful sneakin’ up on a girl like that, Alric.” Her eyes went wide as her smirk turned to a grin when she took the pie, “But this...this makes up for it and then some.” She took a bite out of the pie and nodded down the side street she’d been watching, “There’s a small tavern down there. I’ve been in once or twice, and they always seem to have some cute ones. Just watched two very cute ones head that way while I was waitin’ for you.”

The Drin took another bite of pie, then looked back to her drinking partner for the night, “I see you managed to make it out. Run into any trouble?”

For her part, Paks was glad she didn’t come under nearly as much scrutiny as Novices and Soldiers did. Her nights out at the inns and pubs of Hama Valon were the key to her staying sane, or at least so she thought. When she slept, she slept like the dead, and the exhaustion kept the dreams at bay. No. . .she hadn’t seen as much as some, but it was all relative, wasn’t it?

Taking another bite of pie, Paks wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pushed herself from the tree as she listened to Alric’s answer. She looked aloof as she walked, though she knew what was going on around her. Hama Valon was not immune to people playing the game, and she watched as kids ran through crowds under the guise of ‘kids will be kids.’ She noted two times when those ‘kids’ managed to come away with something from some poor, unsuspecting soul’s pocket. She’d never had to play the game as a child, and for that, she’d been grateful

Falling into step beside the younger woman, Alric shrugged. “It’s just about knowing the right people, and always looking like you belong.” He watched the children jostling and playing in the streets. They reminded him of the kids from one of the orphanages his grandfather had started. Those children had been much better cared for though. “There are a few guards around the Tower who are amenable to bribes. It’s convenient, but it means people with less pure intentions than drinking and carousing can potentially make use of them as well.”

There was something about his straight backed confidence or determined stride, but the crowd didn’t seem to be as keen to press and jostle him as they were for others. This allowed him to see the boy as he careened through the crowed and bumped into him. Somewhere in the twilight between a hunch and instinct, Alric spun and grabbed the boy’s wrist yanking him back. There, in the boy’s other hand, Alric’s coin purse. His main one anyway. He snatched it back as the boy struggled and cursed at him. He released the boy’s wrist, but kept him locked in a death glare he reserved for dressing down recruits. Under the pretext of checking his purse, he surreptitiously plucked a silver from the purse. He tucked the purse away and grabbed the boy by the collar. Shaking him he said, “Touch my purse again and you’ll lose a hand.” He tucked the silver into the kid’s rope belt. He gave the boy a rough shove and shouted, “Now get out of here, brat, before I start kicking.”

When the theatrics had drawn to a close, he turned to find Paks watching him. He shot her a Don’t ask look and kept walking. The awkward note still hanging in the air, Alric turned to her, looking for something to change the subject. With a half-smile and a matter of fact tone, he said, “I’m sure you’re aware, Paks, but that smirk of yours is a deadly weapon. Just thought you should know.”

Paks watched curiously as Alric gave the boy a silver and sent him on his way. Many would have been far less kind, and she found herself giving the man a knowing smirk just as he commented about said smirk being a deadly weapon. The Drin barked a laugh and wiped her chin with the back of her hand, “You are not the first to say such a thing, Alric, and I doubt you will be the last. The smirk is as much a part of me as anything, and I doubt it will go anywhere any time soon.”

Shoving the last bite of pie into her mouth and sucking the grease and crumbs off of each of her fingers, she came to a stop in front of one of the taverns she was known to frequent. “That deadly weapon of mine is the key to finding my way to the bed of many a fair maiden. . .and the occasional gentleman,” she said with the smirk in place. “Though. . .knowing what’s gone on in those beds, I guarantee you the maidens aren’t so maidenly and the gentlemen aren’t so gentlemanly,” she added as she wiggled her brows.

Paks pulled the door open and looked to her drinking companion for the evening, “I’ve got the first round if you want to grab a table.” She didn’t wait for an answer before plunging into the busy tavern. It wasn’t so busy Alric wouldn’t be able to find a table, nor so busy that it would take terribly long to get two pints of ale, but busy enough to offer both Soldier and Drin enough eye candy to make the evening promising and hopefully entertaining.

The bartender gave Paks a knowing smirk and nodded towards Alric, “Changin’ things up tonight, Paks?”

Paks laughed, “Drinking partner. . .nothin’ more, nothin’ less. I suspect he’s just as interested in findin’ a lass as I tend to be, but you never know what the evenin’ holds.” She tossed coins down for the pints he put in front of her and added, “I’m sure we’ll do well for your coffers this evenin’ ‘keep.”

“Ya always do, lass. Now be gone with ye. . .don’t keep a man waitin’ fer his pint!”

Flashing him her smirk, Paks took the two pints and made quick work of finding the table Alric claimed. She set a mug in front of him as she took her seat and held hers up, “To a night of freedom.” It was an informal toast, but there wasn’t much about her that was every formal.

The two went their separate ways and Alric wound his way through the crowed looking for a table. He found one near a corner with a good view of the entire room. It was covered in crumbs and somebody had sloshed some wine on it, but it was in a good position to watch the crowd. Taking a seat with his back to the wall, Alric fished out a handkerchief and wiped away the mess. He used the time till Paks returned to survey the crowed. Maybe he’d learn a little about Paks in the process.

Alric passed a practiced eye over the patrons, looking for similarities and oddities. The majority of the patrons seemed to be workers from around the city. A group of apprentices of some sort sat drinking in a booth. He made special note of one of their number, a short redhead who was becoming loud and belligerent in his drink. In his experience, men like that started fights with little care to whether or not they won. He’d put down enough bar fights in his day to not want to deal with his type. Men and women in various livery took their turns at a darts board cheering and giving each other good natured barbs. He smiled to himself as he saw two men who appeared to be off duty soldiers or merchant’s guards in their failed attempts to woo a willowy olive skinned woman by the bar. She seemed to be content to give them a mysterious smile, brush her thick black tresses over her shoulder and drink whatever they paid for.

All in all, the place wasn’t to unlike any number of places he’d chosen to drink in the Army. At least when they had more options than the village in in a flyspeck town. The overall mood was one of relaxation and revelry as opposed to hostility and desperation. He tapped his foot along to the gleeman’s flute and watched the tavern singer with an unnaturally red head of hair twirl her skirts and sing a catchy if not quite family friendly tune.

His face split in a full smile when Paks returned with a pair of mugs. He took his in his left hand, a hold over form an old army drinking game called Swords, and raised his mug echoing her toast. With an amused grin, he gestured at the woman at the bar and her soldiers, “Do you think any of those sods will get lucky or is she just going to leave them lonely and without even a mark to spend?”

Looking over her shoulder after taking a long pull of her drink, Paks watched the woman in question for several seconds before turning back to Alric. “She is playing each and every one of them, and playing them against one another. They keep spending coin on ale, but notice she’s not really drinking? The poor sods are already well on their way to piss drunk.” She paused to take another sip of her own ale, “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s either helping the barkeep by bringing in more coin, or she has a partner who may have lifted a few coin from that lot already.”

Memories of a similar night out with Natlya came to mind, though they’d gone to a different inn, and it was a different woman who was on the make. Paks scanned the crowd of the tavern, but didn’t see any obvious partners to the woman in question. The characteristic smirk was back as Paks shook her head, “I doubt she’s going home with anyone in this tavern, though she could surprise me.”

The Drin lounged in her chair as she took in the scene unfolding before she and Alric. It was a typical night out at a typical inn in Hama Valon. She had a drinking partner, but she was hoping to find a sleeping partner before the night was out. The woman they’d been watching was out, as Paks preferred to avoid others on the pull, especially if they were pretending to be on the pull.

“There’s a couple of lasses across the room. . .the ones I watched earlier. I bet one or both of us could find company with them tonight if we put our minds to it,” the Drin replied, smirk still firmly in place.

Alric took a pull of his beer and held it in his mouth for a few seconds picking apart the flavor. He swallowed with an approving nod, this beer hadn’t been dry hopped beyond recognition. Instead, the hops played nice counterpoint to the warm malty flavor. He smiled to himself. Spending the evening out of the Tower with good beer and good companionship was about all he’d wanted, Even if he struck out with a hundred girls tonight, he would still be happy.


He studied the pair. Judging by the table they’d chosen, they were drinking to be seen and approached. The appraising looks they gave passers by lent credence to his theory. The redhead of the pair caught his attention. Maybe close to his age, her face was covered in freckles so thick that their faces were almost the same hue. She wasn’t the sort to turn heads without trying, but she had an easy laugh and open smile that Alric found rather refreshing.


He had never been particularly great at picking up women at bars, and he preferred casual partners to one night stands, but what was the worst that could happen? Apart from the obvious. Win or lose, it would be an interesting way to spend an evening. Besides, he’d finally get a chance to see Paks in action. Turning to his friend with a crooked grin, Alric said, “Be a mate, and find out from your bartender, what they’re drinking.” Taking a long drink, he said playfully, “Once we’re ready, I’m going to go and utterly strike out with freckles over there.”

There was one thing Paks excelled at beyond pulling women, and that was watching people. She had always been observant, but her troupe of friends helped her hone the ability. She could watch people with a measured gaze and have an inkling of an idea of what might be going through their mind. Alric was almost too easy. She was not surprised when he let his intentions be known about the red head.

The Drin’s smirk broadened, “I’m glad you picked the redhead. I’ve gotten into too much trouble with reds in the past. I try and avoid them. Brunettes, though? I’m happy with brunettes. Sit tight, and I’ll be right back.” She wiggled her brows as she pushed herself from the table, but before she left, she downed what was left in her mug, “And I’ll get us another round too.”

The tavern wasn’t so very big that it took Paks long to reach the bar, nor was it so very big that she didn’t have line of site on both Alric and the two women. The barkeep came over with two pints in hand, but paused when Paks leaned in and spoke to him in hushed tones. He gave her a reply, and she held up two fingers. The barkeep barked a laugh, but nodded as Paks beamed before returning to the table.

“The lasses are drinkin’ mead, and he’s bringing them the next round on us. I hope you don’t mind I took initiative,” the Drin said as she set the next round of ale on the table.

Not long after, the barkeep had set a bottle of mead down on the table for the two women, and nodded towards Alric and Paks. The look the women gave in return seemed hopeful for more than fleeting glances across the room, but Paks was content to let them drink in peace for now

They tried their best not to talk shop, but as expected it was hard not to. They lived, studied, ate, slept, and relaxed at the Tower. The institution as well as the physical building were inescapable fixtures in their lives. Even here, if they were to look out of a north facing window, they would see the lights of the Tower stretching up into the heavens. So, try as they might, conversation centered around the Tower. They complained about bothersome rules, gossiped about fellow students, and occasionally mocked the less likable teachers.

Conversation slid to talk of home, like it often did. Though they had left Mayene almost a decade apart, they were still keen to swap stories of home. They had run in very different circles, her troop of entertainers and his apprentice scholars and artists. Even so, they had frequented some of the same taverns and other hang outs around the city. As they swapped stories, Alric wondered, if they had been of an age with each other, would they have been friends back home? Probably not, Alric and his friends had spent much of their free time on the very edge of court drama. They probably would have met in passing and she’d have just been another face in the crowd.

Lifting his mug, Alric realized, he’d almost finished his second round. Draining the rest of his beer, he excused himself to go for round three. By this point in the night, Alric’s steps were feeling exceptionally light and the candles were beginning to show small halos. He should probably order some food to go with their second round.

After dropping off a wine glass for the willowy beauty at the bar, the barkeep turned to Alric and asked, “Another round of the same?”

“Not sure yet,” Alric said, voice pitched over the sounds of merriment. “I’m looking for something… Interesting,” he said, scanning the rows of bottles and kegs.

“Oh, it’ll cost you a bit extra but I’ve got something for you,” the man said with a sly smile.

“Tell me about it,” Alric said, fishing out a few coins, “Oh and another bottle of mead for that table.” He gestured to the table with the freckled redhead and the brunette.

After casting a knowing look at the two woman, the barkeep began to explain, “It’s a strong ale out of Tar Valon, spicy and malty. It’s really rich, but it’ll knock you on your rear if you aren’t careful.”

Alric couldn’t help but grin. This man was speaking his language, “Pour two, and get me a plate of something fried.”

“We’ve got catfish bites”

“Eh, why not,” Alric said non committally. Growing up on the coast with the bounty of the Sea of Storms at his fingertips, he admittedly held a low opinion of freshwater fish. As a learned man, however, he was willing to acknowledge when his existing biases were affecting his judgement.