Morning. It's sunny outside, and you can hear the town starting to wake up. I get out of bed and walk over to the window. Bowerstone lies before me. The sun lights up the cobbled streets, reflecting across the river, shining light onto the wood and stone of the buildings. Business people head to their stores and stalls, and the drunkards stumble out of the tavern. Children run out into the street, yelling happily. The town crier heads to his usual spot, ready to wake up the stragglers. The town beggar, John, goes to his usual spot and sits down, hands outstretched for the occasional coin.
And I get around to join them. I put on my dress and apron, and brush out my hair. Go downstairs, past the creaking board of wood in the center of the floor, by the cabinet with that strange middle drawer that never wants to open, go out the door and lock it behind me, after shoving it tight and kicking it upwards into place so that it actually will lock. Then I head to the tavern. I'm a barmaid, during the day, at least, but at night, I'm a popular entertainer, when the tips are biggest. Many of the people in town head to the Tavern after work, but before bed, so most of them hear me sing. We're not a huge part of town, so everyone in this area knows everyone. The good ol' Cock in the Crown. I've been working here for a while. My parents live all the way in Brightwall, so I don't see them often. But I'm 20, so I don't miss them too much. Brightwall's a nice place, but I've made a nice reputation here, and I plan to stay.
You'd think that the Tavern wouldn't be that busy during the day, but besides the occasional traveler staying for the night, many of the townspeople pop in for lunch.
That's how my day goes. Get up, go to work, sing, go to bed, and repeat. But just in case you actually care, I'll give you the details.
Its lunch time and we're getting somewhat busy.
Charles, the Barman/Owner/Proprietor, tries to get everyone social. He's bigger, like most bartenders, and balding, which is funny because he has a large graying beard rolling down his front, almost like his head got flipped upside down.
"Been comin' around often en't ya', Greg? Like our food that much, eh?" He says.
"Better then the coal his wife serves him, huh, Greg?" I yell to him.
"En't that the truth!" Greg shouts back through the crowd.
"The usual, Martin?" I ask.
"Nah, let's shake it up a bit, surprise me, Laura!" He tells me.
We've got more people coming in, and I grab some more beers to serve the people sitting down, while Natalie comes in, late, again.
"Natalie, get your arse over here and get to work!" Charles yells at her, through the throng of people. She responds, "Sorry, sir!" and heads behind the bar while tying her apron around her back. Her caramel cheeks flush slightly, and her ebony braid flips around as she moves around the corner into the bar area. Her golden eyes dart around the crowd, looking for people to assist. Charles tells me, "Go check the rooms upstairs, see about that barterer in the left room."
I nod and head up the stairs. We only have two guests at the moment; A traveler who barters with some of the shops around here, and a mysterious man, who hardly ever comes out of his room except to come down to the bar at night. Usually around the time I perform, it seems. I knock on his door, but no response. I move on to the traveler's room. He's heading out with his pack.
"Are you leaving already, sir?" I ask him.
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm afraid I need to head out. Restock and all that. I've left the payment for my stay, and a little extra as tips for your nightly performances. I'm afraid I didn't have money the past few nights, no business, no money, y'know? Anyway, I digress. I promise I'll be back soon, though!" And he chuckled and went downstairs. I went into the room and picked up the money on the counter. I rushed back out into the hall, but I could not see the traveler amongst the sea of people in line for the bar.
I look down at my hand, and at the large bag of gold that lies there. There is way more than is necessary for the room's rent, and even a generous tip. I decide to keep the tip, and tuck the bag into my apron. I hurry downstairs to help Natalie and Charles finish up with the lunch rush.
Its evening now and the lunch rush ended a while ago. We have a few odd stragglers, and some regulars. It's an awkward time, right after lunch, but before dinner, so not too many people come around. John has scrumagged up enough money for a beer, and he enjoys it slowly, hiccupping onto the table as he goes. There is also a group of travelers in the corner, talking and chatting amongst themselves. I watch them lazily, noticing how they all have very similar mustaches that twirl up at the ends. As the evening light of the sun shines through the windows, I stretch and look around.
Our mysterious guest has started coming down the stairs, so I decide to start setting things up for my performance.
I'm trying some new songs tonight, so I'm a bit more nervous than usual. But everyone gets nervous in front of crowds, right?
The sun is almost completely behind the buildings of Bowerstone Industrial, and you can barely start to see stars and the moon in the sky. A bard is outside, playing the lute in front of the clock tower. People start to walk in, and I head up to the stage.
Regulars start clapping and cheer, as if I needed any more reason to feel nervous. I sit down and immediately the song just starts to flow.
Under yondern oaken tree,
Whose branches oft me shaded;
Elves and fairies dance with glee,
When day's last beam hath faded:
Then while the stars shine brightly,
So airy, gay, and spritely,
'Till Chanticleer tell dawn is near,
They trip it, trip it lightly.
Yet no trace of them is seen,
When morning rays are glancing,
Not one footprint on the green
Shows where the elves were dancing:
Oh! where are they abiding?
In what lone valley hiding?
Come next with me and we will see
The fairies homewards gliding.
I finish the song, and look up. Everyone is clapping, and many more have stepped in since I started singing. I hop into another song, this one much more well-known, and many start singing along with me, stomping their feet or clapping their hands to the beat. By the time the song is finished, everyone seems much livelier, and people offer each other drinks and stumble all around while singing their favorite parts of the song again, or laughing at each other. When things die down again, and everyone is urging me to sing another song, I pick a more downbeat song, to keep things randomized.
George Collins came home last Friday night
And there he would take sick and died;
And when Mrs. Collins heard George was dead,
She wrung her hands and cried.
Mary in the hallway, sewing her silk,
She's sewing her silk so fine,
And when she heard that George were dead,
She threw her sewing aside.
She followed him up, she followed him down,
She followed him to his grave,
And there all on her bended knee
She wept, she mourned, she prayed.
Hush up, dear daughter, don't take it so hard,
There's plenty more pretty boys than George.
There's more pretty boys all standing around,
But none so dear as George.
Set down the coffin, pick up the lid,
And give me a comb so fine,
And let me comb his cold, wavy hair,
For I know he'll never comb mine.
Set down the coffin, lift up the lid,
Lay back the sheetings so fine,
And let me kiss his cold, sweet lips,
For I know he'll never kiss mine.
As I finished the song, it's quiet. I look up, and everyone is staring at me, some with tears in their eyes. Natalie runs up to the stage and hugs me, sobbing and barely saying, "I'm so sorry, Emily, I never knew!"
I'm taken aback. Did she think the song was true? And that it was about me, too?
I quickly respond, "Natalie, it's not true!" While patting her back as she cries into my shoulder.
"Of course it was! You're face looked so sad while you sang it! Weren't you holding back tears the whole time?" She said, bending back to look at me, her eyes red and teary.
"I was?" I say, flabbergasted. "I promise, Natalie, I never loved a man who died." On second thought, I had never loved a man before.
It takes a while to get everyone calmed down, and I take a break to convince everyone that the song definitely wasn't about me. As I sit down, exhausted beyond compare, our mysterious guest comes up to me and holds out an envelope. And it has the royal seal on it.
"I hope you can come." He tells me, then moves through the tables and goes out through the door without another world. I open the letter carefully, because I don't want to rip the expensive paper, and it says,-
Dear sir or ma'am,
You have been invited to perform at our beloved king's birthday party, an elegant affair with no equal in the land.
It is a great honor to play for the royal family and the nobles of this land, so we expect you to be there, Wendesday this month, before 6 afternoon.
Hoping you are well,
Barnabus B.
P.S. I will personally escort you there via a carriage the night of, so do not worry.
I look at the paper for a long while, and double check the seal, wondering if it's authentic. To be invited to perform at a royal party was amazing. No wonder the mysterious man had been here watching me sing for many days. He had to make sure I was acceptable for the King and his family.
The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I was going to meet King Logan, the princess, and Reaver and the nobles who could offer me more chances to perform, and perhaps become nationally famous!
Suddenly, from behind me, right in my ear, I hear, "The King's birthday party? You're going to go, right, Emily?" Natalie has been looking over my shoulder, and now everyone in the bar knows about the invitation.
"W-well, I have to, don't I? I've been personally invited to a royal party! Even to just perform, it's something you can't turn down lightly." I respond, still registering the information in my own head.
"We're going to have to get you a new dress! And make up your hair, and dress you up all pretty..." Natalie rambles, "...And, oh! You're going to meet King Logan himself, aren't you! You're so lucky!" I could swear there were stars shining in her eyes as she talked about the king.
"A new dress, huh..." I say slowly to myself. "I barely get enough for these rags as it is, Natalie." I tell her, starting to feel slightly disappointed.
Then it hits me. The tip the traveler left me! It was perfect for buying a new dress! And not just a regular dress, but an elegant, brightly colored one at that.
"Nevermind about that actually." I tell Natalie. She looks puzzled, but she doesn't pursue the subject anymore.
Charles looks over the invitation and says, "Well, the sixth, eh? Well that's only a few days away. Why don't you go home and rest up your voice. We can handle it here."
"Really?" I ask.
"Sure, and take the day off tomorrow to buy your dress."
"Charles, thank you!" I say, flinging my arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
Natalie hugs me as well, and when the hug ends, I make for the door, out into the street towards my home.