Chapter 19 Not Like Other Humans #2
Snaglak was sitting beside Finley, allegedly “helping” Declan’s best friend get ready for the final fight he was DMing the next night, but in reality, he was keeping an eye on Finley for Declan.
Though most of the high fantasy beings ignored humans, if they thought of them much at all, some were outwardly hostile.
And Declan wanted nothing to happen to his bookish best friend while he was pulling beers behind the bar if one of those bastards decided to give Finley a hard time.
Finley sighed audibly and pinched the top of his nose at the orc’s failure to understand his point “No, he’s not, Snaglak.”
“Oh, so there’s no one in charge then?” Strofin’s beady, black eyes narrowed.
“Ah, Declan is! Declan’s in charge!” Finley cried out, affronted on Declan’s behalf.
Declan did not respond, but he watched the goblin speculatively. Was he going to be trouble? Even Varhad shifted a little uneasily in his seat as his eyes flickered between Strofin and Declan. Varhad was a regular and knew that Declan wasn’t like other humans.
“Ach, well, Declan’s only trying to save the booze there. But the fairies won’t make it all go bad!” Varhad chuckled a little uneasily.
“Definitely not all of it!” Snaglak guzzled the remainder of his beer. He patted his rock hard stomach. “Safe as could be in here.”
“But you’re not thinking about your next mug, Snaglak,” Finley pointed out to the orc. “And what about the one after that or the one even after that? Or are you done drinking for the next week? That’s how much alcohol will go sour if this goes on.”
“Next–next week?” Snaglak’s gray-skinned face fell as he stared down at his empty mug. “Declan, stop those fairies!”
But Strofin had the virtual chorus going on again with, “FAIRY FIGHT! FAIRY FIGHT! FAIRY FIGHT!”
Declan grunted in disbelief that the customers would encourage such violence.
At least, such violence against the alcohol.
He knew well enough that their patrons would be happy to see Snow and Rain both carted out of there, unconscious or worse.
But ruining good beer and wine? They truly must be bored to suggest it.
Evidently, the Sun King could not come soon enough to his new home.
But the fairies were already committed even without the egging on.
Their magical bolts burst out of their wands with a high whine like the sound of twin bottle rockets as the bolts raced along the bar.
Declan moved from the back room to the bar so quickly that to those who watched it was as if between one blink and the next he had teleported.
He slammed the metal keg down on the onyx slab between the fairies.
The keg was laced with silver–it made the beer taste better, according to Helgrom–but, more importantly in this situation, silver had the ability to repel fairy magic.
The bolts impacted the keg and reflected them right back at Rain and Snow.
With a squeal of unwelcome surprise, the two feuding fairies were struck by their own magic.
Red electrical light sizzled over Rain’s slender limbs while Snow was covered in an ever-spreading sheet of ice. Both landed on the bar with a thunk.
They were still alive, but Declan wondered if they’d wish otherwise when Helgrom found out he’d had to use the special honey brew to stop their duel.
It was likely both flat and sour after being struck with their magic regardless of the silver’s reflective properties.
Yet one keg lost was better than every keg lost.
Declan peeled the unconscious fairies off the bar and put them in a birdcage that had been adapted into a fairy jail. It was a rare night when it wasn’t filled with half a dozen of the winged beings. There had been a lot of disputes about bar tabs these days.
“Aw! Over before it began!” Varhad grumped.
Declan turned narrowed green eyes upon the dwarf who quickly hid his face in his beer mug. Helgrom was not the only one at the Dawn who was known to have a dangerous stare.
Strofin snorted in disgust. “Why are you letting him intimidate you, Varhad? He’s just a human after all!”
Yep, definitely trouble, Declan thought.
Varhad made a frantic movement for Strofin to shut up. “Strofin, let’s not go there with–”
“Please! What is the human going to do about it? They’re slow, weak and easily killed. No magic either. Without the Aravae protecting them they’d all be dead,” Strofin spoke loudly enough so that everyone could hear. “The Leviathan would have drained them to dust! Maybe they should have!”
For a moment, Declan remembered the sudden and unexpected dawn that had spread like golden fire over the streets and houses of Lightwell that had marked the arrival of the Sun King and his army.
He could still feel the pain of that light on his exposed skin.
For a moment back then he’d feared he would have been burned away just as the Leviathan had been by those deadly rays.
But then the light had subsided like the retreating of the sea at low tide.
And as his eyes had adjusted, he’d been able to see the Sun King on the horizon, sitting astride a white horse, golden hair blowing in the wind, silver armor flashing, with magic limning his hands and the sword he had raised into the air.
Declan had never forgotten that moment. It had seemed both like a miracle and the end of the world. And, in a way, it had been both.
“Declan’s–ah, Declan’s not like other humans,” Varhad began even as his eyes were flickering from Declan to the goblin as if measuring the space between them. “Not that humans are bad or anything. They’re just–”
“They’re just a drain on the economy,” Strofin continued with disgust. “They’re pets, but they want to pretend to be our equals. It’s pathetic really. And now one of them stops our fun? Who does he think he is?”
These were familiar hateful words so they barely registered to Declan as a personal affront any longer.
Yet he knew that the more people were allowed to say such things without consequences, the more others would follow through on those words with violence.
And that would put humans like his best friend in greater danger than they were of Leviathan attack. So Declan never let such words pass.
Declan smoothly launched himself over the bar and approached their table.
Strofin was a newcomer to the Dawn and so had no idea of the mistake he had made.
It was only when Declan stopped beside the red-skinned creature that Strofin realized that Declan had moved at all.
The entire bar had gone silent. Only the Sun Elves, Finley and Snaglak looked at the scene openly.
“You have something to say to me, human?” Strofin practically spat the last word.
Finley released a very loud sigh as he clearly knew what was going to happen next. Snaglak let out a loud gurgle of laughter and looked on with bright eyes. Varhad hunched so low in his chair as to almost disappear into it despite him being as broad and solid as a fireplug.
“I do,” Declan said softly.
With a movement too quick for Strofin to counter, Declan caught hold of the plentiful ear hair that sprouted out of Strofin’s pointed left ear and pulled it until the goblin let out a yelp.
The goblin reached for the curved dagger at his waist, but it wasn’t there any longer.
Declan had disarmed him at the same time he’d grabbed his ear hair.
“Hey! How did you do that? Humans can’t do that! They can’t move that fast!” Strofin yelped.
In a conversational tone that never rose much above a murmur, Declan said, “You’re new here so perhaps you don’t know the rules of the Dawn.”
“Rules? Rules that you enforce? Please! You’re nothing! You’re–AH!” Strofin hissed at the renewed pulling on his ear hair.
“Don’t speak. Just listen,” Declan said.
The only other sound in the place was the crack and pop of the wood in the fireplace as it was consumed by fire.
“In the Dawn, you get the best wine, beer and spirits in all of the former United States of America. Service is given with a smile. You pay your bar tab at the end of the night with a generous tip. Thank you very much.”
Strofin’s large black eyes grew larger as Declan expertly spun his dagger between the fingers of one hand very near the goblin’s face. The blade was a blur. It danced so close to the goblin’s rough, red cheeks that if Strofin would have had a beard it would have been shaved off.
“Disagreements are known to happen though we ask that you keep them civil inside these walls. Fights are fine. Outside.” Declan paused and then asked, “But guess what is the one thing you must never, ever do?”
Strofin stared up at him. His lips parted showing his triangular, serrated teeth and long, slithery tongue. He did not speak. He’d evidently gotten the message about keeping silent.
Declan continued in that calm, conversational way, “You must never, ever insult the staff.” His green eyes burned into the goblin’s black ones as if he could sear the next words into the goblin’s tiny brain, “Respect will be given at all times. Are we clear?”
Strofin nodded even though his ear hair was pulled painfully with each movement of his head.
He really had gotten the message about not speaking.
Declan spun the curved blade one last time before he slammed the tip of it into the table’s already scarred surface.
Two inches of the blade were swallowed by the wood.
The goblin would have a hard time prying it out of there.
Strofin swallowed. Declan released the goblin’s ear hair and picked up his empty cup.
“Would you like a refill? Brandy, wasn’t it?” Declan asked.
Strofin nodded briskly. Declan was certain that Strofin wouldn’t say another word about humans–racist or otherwise–ever again, which meant that Finley was safer.
He supposed other humans were, too, but it was Finley that mattered to him.
So if putting bastards like Strofin in their place needed to be done a hundred times, a thousand times, or even more, he’d do it gladly.
Even if it revealed just how different he was from everyone else.
“No problem. Coming right up,” Declan told him as he headed back to the bar.
He heard Varhad mutter to Strofin, “I told you Declan isn’t like other humans. He’s dangerous.”
Continue reading The Night Prince Volume 5