Enrique Journal, Entry Twenty-six:
Journal Entry Twenty-six:
Agony. My head is pounding and lungs feel as if they are on fire. Ah, my eyes are blinded by the light. How did my shudders get open. I'd sworn I closed them so I could sleep in. I'm a wreck. My reflection reveals a broken shell. My eyes bloodshot. A circular bruise going around my abdomen and rib cage. Madre de dios, how that hurts. Looks as if I was fighting with William again. How many more bruised, cracked or broken ribs must I suffer before I learn, and the pounding in my head? Aye! I need a drink. Hmm, wine, Castillian, fine vintage. How*..? Well so far I've actually been impressed with Carleon. After storing my gear in the room Miriam assigned me, William took me out around the city. This is probably the cleanest city I've ever seen. Barbarians though they be, the Avalonians have a wondrous city here. Back at the Fey Queen's rest I nap before dinner. I'm feeling quite rested now. And sober, well, I shall soon rectify that. Dinner time approaches, and even on the 2nd floor, I can smell the amazing aromas wafting up from the kitchen. Miriam must have a great chef, or herself, must be an excellent cook. Strangely, I haven't seen a single servant, yet so far, it has not yet been a full day after all, but the woman seems to be amazingly everywhere. I'm sure it's too much drink and not enough sleep. Going down to dinner, I need not ask directions, only follow the scent and sounds of conversation. Everyone seems rested and surprisingly jovial. We have not been that way in a long time. Well, not since Stefan's. Flashbacks! I see that lopsided grin of Reynaldo's as he's falling. Sigh, how long will I continue to be haunted by your apparition amigo? Miriam seems to have other patrons. A young couple, newly married by the looks of things. A salty old sea dog, holding a beer stein. Watching him, he seems to talk with his hands a lot, particularly the one hold the mug. Strange! And look at Miriam, always there to refill it as without him having to ask, just as he finishes the last swallow. Hmm!? Strange indeed. Another patron, with long, black hair. His back is too me, so I can't make anymore details. No matter. Ah, William finally arrives. Wow, he's clean. Probably the first bath he's had in weeks. How Rude! Our greeting is suddenly interrupted by the stranger. What did he say? "Peacock, is that you?" No, he couldn't have. I must have heard wrong. Too much wine I think. Then he turns, something vaguely familiar about the face. Shock! It can't be! Madre de dios, he is El Gato Negro. Nine lives indeed! How many times have I seen him die, only to rise like the Phoenix. Still in shock, I can only watch as William and the others shout "Reynaldo" and rush to embrace him. Our lost sheep, returned to the Shepard. There shall be much drinking and carousing tonight. With the tres amigos reunited, even Lia is accompanying us out. A rare event indeed for the lovely Lia to come and drink with us. This will be a grand night. It seems that Sabine, our new senorita and Reynaldo have taken to a fast friendship. They are both Vodacce, so I'm sure that has something to do with it. This Sabine, even more lovely than Lia, I actually like. She seems well educated speaking Montaigne and Castillian. Finally we arrive at our destination. The infamous "Powder Keg" that everyone, including Miriam recommends. They "have free drinks" people keep telling us. Even Miriam said the same, however, she seemed to have a mischievous twinkle her in eye when she said it. At the door, we are greeted by a huge ape of a Vodacce. Goes by the name of Geno. Note to self, don't start fight here. Yeah right, self, who am I kidding! Inside is strange. Each wall is different. All the wood appears to have come from different sources, possibly shipwrecks. A few tables, all full, except one small circular table in the middle. It has a large red stain and the other patrons avoid it like the plague. A cannon, with what may be full powder kegs next to it. The patrons of this establishment are as varied as the décor. Sailors of all types as well as the occasional nobleman. There is even a Castillian nobleman playing darts with what looks to be some Montaigne. Interesting, very interesting. At the bar sits and old sailor, with a type of captain's cap. He has a full white beard and shaggy looking clothes. An old uniform perhaps. He just sits there drinking out of a mug which he occasionally dips into an open topped keg next to the bar. After the first few rounds and a few toasts to our band of misfits, we convince William to ask about the "free drinks." The bartender responds with "so ye want a free drink do ye" and the whole bar starts shouting "free drink" repeatedly. It does not go unnoticed by any of us that Geno has moved near the bar behind William. The bartender hands William a mug and says he can drink from the open keg. It contains the all the remains of various peoples drinks from various night. Disgusting. At this point Geno interrupts and tells our fine Highmarch friend that he can drink of his own free will or he can be assisted. Wisely, I think, William chooses to drink of his own volition. I almost can't watch as he dips his mug in, toasts the Queen and attempts to down it. Almost. His face immediately turns green, but I must commend his stomach, in that he didn't puke. A cheer goes up through the bar. After that, William and I remain at the bar, while Lia takes her leave. Jenner, well, I don't know quite where he disappeared to. Sabine, Volker and Reynaldo head over to the dart games. I ask the bartender for Castillian wine and he gives me some Montaigne crap. Oh the horror and insult. William begins to make some joke about Castille, when I feel a wicked grin coming on. William sees something in my eye, but he's too late. Crash! I smashed the bottle over his head. Oh the look on his face. Priceless! Oops, now I've seen that new look before. Uh-oh. Arrgh! Wrapping me in a rather painful bear hug, William lifts me from my bar stool and begins squeezing. Aye, when will I learn. Suddenly we're moving. Heading towards*..no*..he wouldn't. Yes he would. I try to scream no, but the air is gone from my lungs, I can only watch in horror as I'm lifted and thrown head first into the swill keg. I can vaguely hear cheers from the bottom of the keg. Theus, that stuff is nasty. Ah, fresh air fills my lungs as William pulls me back out of the keg. He slaps me on the back and quickly orders me a drink. As I'm drinking some Highmarch ale, the bartender tosses me a rag. Absurd! How dare he insinuate I clean this mess. No! I refuse. He glances as Geno. Okay, I'll do it. As I stoop to clean the broken glass from the bottle I smashed, I hear heckling from a group of sailors. Something about "a new cleaning wench" or some sort. Rage! How dare they mock me. Striding over, I strike one of them. He and his companions quickly draw knives, I jump back just as one slashes at me. From the corner of my eye, I see Geno moving into position. Never mind him, I draw my rapier and swing into motion. Losing myself in the fight, I quickly lash out at the drawstring of the closest seaman's britches, slicing it neatly. The crowd laughs as his pants fall to his ankles. As he bends to pick them up, I slash again, this time cutting his ponytail off. With a scream of anguish, he pulls his pants up, grabs his now short hair and runs from the bar. Dodging a thrust from another sailor, I turn and strike out, trying to snag his earring on by blade and rip it from his ear. Fortunately for him, I miss. Another dodge and slice and the third sea dog's pants drop, followed again by cheers from the crowd. I slice for his hair but miss. He too runs from the bar, with chased by taunts and jeers from the onlookers. The final puts his hands up in mock surrender and asks that I not cut his hair. A laugh sweeps through the crowd. "Bravo peacock," shouts Reynaldo. Looking up, I see him motioning for William and I to join the others. That's when I notice a rather angry looking Castillian staring at Reynaldo. The same one, I believe I saw playing darts, although I can't be sure, that was, after all, many drinks and a dunk in the swill keg ago. The Castillian, thinking that I've been insulted, and knowing only that I'm a fellow countryman, lays into Reynaldo. I can't hear everything that's being said, but the next thing I know is the Castillian is now arguing with Reynaldo, Sabine and Volker. William and I sit back and watch with bemused interest. Not good! The exchange has heated up enough that Volker, easily excitable as he is swings at the Castillian. He dodges and all four combatants draw blades. Geno starts to move, but with the crowd packing in won't get there in time to stop it. Reynaldo flinches, sending the Castillian into a whirlwind of motion. Slash! Cut! Parry! In a second, he sliced open Reynaldo and Volker's arms, and parried and thrust from Sabine. The two men raise their swords to bow out in defeat just and Sabine issues an unholy scream. Lost in the heat of the fight, the Castillian has stabbed her in her left shoulder. He quickly apologizes but she just storms out in a fit of anger. Stunned! I've never seen someone move so fast. I dare say he was faster than Arturo Hernandez, it that's possible. And to beat not one, but all three of my friends, good warriors who have fought with Legion, in but mere seconds. Unthinkable! I stand in awe! This swordsman or demon or both, El Demonio Espadachin, is all that I aspire to be and more. What! I snap out of my reverie and have to shake my head to clear it. He looks familiar somehow too, as I stare at him. I've got it, Don Pablo Rios de Rioja. I've seen him once at my grandfather's academy. He was visiting the city and stopped to pay his respects. Strange that, considering how good he obviously is, that I haven't heard of his exploits since that time. With a nod and salute, he takes his leave. As do William and I. It is time to retire from this evenings excitement. My bed is calling
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