"Savil…" Vanyel turned to face his aunt, who had dismounted from Kellan in a smooth motion. "… are you sure this is a good idea? Do you even know this place?"

His aunt smiled mockingly at him. "Afraid of a slightly seedy bar, Vanyel? After Karse? Do you think you'll catch footrot from the beer?"

"Well, no." He paused and gestured to his uniform. "This might draw a bit too much unwanted attention, though."

"True," she replied with a shrug. "But if I'd let you go back to your quarters to change after that Council meeting, you'd never have left. Don't think I don't know you."

Holding up his hands, Vanyel replied, "All right, all right, guilty as charged. But I am not using my real name in here. I remember what happened in that inn on the way to Forst Reach and I am not looking to be the center of attention tonight."

Savil eyed him up. "Lad, with that face, you'd be the center of attention even if you were a goatherder."

Vanyel sighed and patted Yfandes gently. "I agreed to this de-stressing activity, so let's just get this over with already."

Rolling her eyes, Savil pushed the tavern door open. "You'd think I'd taken you to a Court party. Relax. Enjoy. Have a few drinks, you've earned them."

He snorted and followed her inside. The tavern was full—it was almost Harvest fest, and many looked to be celebrating already—and noisy. Dim lighting showed full plates of food, countless empty beer mugs, and somewhere in the corner, a Bard having a drink. He nudged Savil and titled his chin in the Bard's direction. "Looks like we might get some actual entertainment in this place."

"We don't need him for that," she replied, plunking herself down at the end of an empty table. Gesturing toward a serving girl, she said, "Two beers, please. And two whiskeys."

Vanyel arched an eyebrow and carefully sat in the place across from her, wiping a few stray crumbs off the wood first. "Are you trying to get me drunk? You know I can't hold my liquor like I could at twenty one."

"Hmph. Well, I can," she replied, unshaken, handing the girl a chit for her troubles. Raising her shot glass, she said, "To tomorrow, our one day off per fortnight."

Chuckling, Vanyel clinked her glass. "I'll drink to that."

A few candlemarks and far too many drinks later, he found himself deep in conversation with the barman, without any real clue as to when the conversation had begun or how. His gaze blurred as he stared into his glass, then looked up at the older man.

The bartender must have been almost forty, with a grizzled masculinity Vanyel found strangely attractive. His dark hair had streaks of gray, but his green eyes were sharp and his face had few wrinkles. And his shoulders were nice, not too broad but well muscled…

"So you were telling me about what it's like out there on the Border," the other man prompted him after the pause grew over long.

What am I thinking? Vanyel thought, tearing his eyes from the bartender's face. Good gods, I must be drunk to be entertaining these thoughts about a stranger! And one who likely isn't shaych.

"Was I?" Vanyel replied, bemused, looking around for Savil. There she was, on the other end of the bar, chatting up that Bard from earlier, who looked to be about ten years younger than she was. He stifled a smile. "You know, I fear I've lost my train of thought."

The bartender was studying his face now, a bit too closely for comfort, and Vanyel flushed. "What did you say your name was again?" the man asked.

Forgetting his vow to remain anonymous, Vanyel spoke without thinking. "Vanyel. Vanyel Ashkevron—"

"Great gods!" the bartender exclaimed, then quieted at Vanyel's pained expression. "Sorry. I thought as much, with that face—but you never expect a hero to come walking into your bar." He poured Vanyel another shot of whiskey. "You certainly deserve that!"

"I'm not sure I need it," Vanyel murmured, but smiled and took it anyways. The bartender returned the smile and leaned in closer.

"Well, you look exactly like the rumors say."

"Oh?" Vanyel arched an eyebrow, his current state of inebriation bringing out his inner peacock. "How's that?"

"Like a god, almost. The most handsome man I've ever seen." The bartender winked and poured himself a shot. "The face that inspires Bards worldwide! I deserve one of these too, for having a conversation with a legend!"

Vanyel laughed, his mind turning. Was that flirting? Is he—

"So there's another rumor," the older man continued, leaning in, those lovely green eyes level with Vanyel's.

"Oh?" Vanyel asked again, not really paying attention, still watching Savil and the Bard. Apparently she'd said something funny, for he was laughing uproariously and had laid a hand on her shoulder. If she scores him…

"They say you're, uh," the bartender looked around and lowered his voice, "not much into the ladies."

Raising his eyebrows, Vanyel turned full attention back to the bartender. "Do they?" he asked, whiskey muddling his thoughts and making him less worried than he might be.

"See, here's the thing," the bartender said, speaking even more quietly, "I'm not either."

Good gods, that was a clumsy way of announcing, "I'm shaych," Vanyel thought, stifling laughter. Not that I would have guessed. "Aren't you?" he replied noncommittally. I am not taking a stranger home. Or going home with one. I am not.

Fortunately, Savil walked over just as the bartender started to respond, dragging the Bard along with her. Up close, Vanyel realized the singer was older than he'd thought originally, and less handsome out of the makeshift stage's candlelight. Huh. Savil may just have a chance! He thought with a slight smile.

:I do have more than a chance, thank you very much: Savil Spoke him acerbically. :Old hatchet-face can still bring 'em in!:

:With your sweet speech and dulcet tones, no doubt:, Vanyel replied. :Were you eavesdropping?:

:No, you thought it across the room. You must be drunk—and who's he?: She said, as the bartender looked at them questioningly.

"Can I get you another drink, lovely lady?" the bartender asked with a charming smile.

:Speaking of sweet-spoken…: Savil Spoke, eyes twinkling, then said aloud, "Perfect timing. I do need another one—and so does my friend here, Bard Renvin!"

The Bard in question smiled and held out a hand to Vanyel. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Renvin," he said.

"Vanyel," Vanyel replied, shaking the hand with an answering smile.

"I know," Renvin said with a quick laugh. "Even if you weren't wearing that uniform, you couldn't hide that face."

Vanyel sighed. "Apparently not. So what brings you out tonight?"

"A night and day off, the winsome notion of playing for old tavern crowds like I used to, the chance to meet a sweet young girl…" He paused and grinned. "Or an old, grizzled warhorse."

Almost spluttering his drink back into his cup—which had somehow miraculously been refilled—Vanyel laughed. "Indeed! Well, if that's your type of lady—" he paused and raised an eyebrow toward Savil, who was still talking to the bartender. "—I believe you've found your match."

"I'm certain of it," Renvin replied with a wink.

Savil turned around and eyed them suspiciously. " And just what are you two laughing about?"

"You, of course," Vanyel retorted, ducking her swing at him. "And your charming silver tongue."

"Funny, Van," Savil replied. :He's shaych, you know.: She Spoke him, cocking an eyebrow at the bartender.

:And?: Vanyel replied, meeting her gaze with an arched eyebrow of his own.

:Don't you think you could use a little… company?:

:Really, Aunt? A stranger?: The bartender was telling a joke to a few ladies now, but shot an eye over at him and Renvin, and Vanyel laughed along obligingly.

:Oh, he seems like a good man—just a bit rough around the edges. But then… you don't mind that, do you? What was your last? A Guardsman? And when was that—two years ago?: Her Mindvoice was teasing and full of love; he knew she wasn't mocking him, but she was reminding him of desires he tried hard to suppress.

Vanyel took another deep drink before replying. :Yes.:

Savil shrugged. :Something to think about, is all. It wouldn't hurt.:

Then, grabbing Renvin, she said, "Look—seats. This old place is clearing out."

Debating whether following her would be intruding on her conquest or not, Vanyel turned as the bartender cleared his throat. No one was left around them and he wondered absently what time it was. "So I'm off in a candlemark, if that rumor we were talking about is true," the other man said with that charming smile of his.

"A bold proposition," Vanyel replied, finding he was enjoying himself despite the oddness of the situation. Not that I've never, ever slept with someone who was less than a well-known friend before… but it's been so long.

"I'm a bold sort of man," the other replied.

"I don't even know your name," Vanyel said, lips quirking at the statement.

"Jenson," he said.

"So, Jenson, how did you come to be a bartender in Haven?" Vanyel asked, ignoring the question from earlier.

"Third son of a farming family, not much use for me at home… especially with, well, you know… so I came to see the big city. A friend of my father's ran the place, had no sons, and when he passed on, I found myself with my own tavern." Jenson shrugged. "As good a trade as any, way I see it. Helping people relax, forget their problems…"

"…lose their wits and fight or sleep with strangers," Vanyel finished, downing his glass simultaneously.

The bartender laughed. "That too." He paused. "' Though, they do that anyway, with or without me."

"I suppose so," Vanyel replied with an answering laugh, turning his empty glass in his hand. Jenson leaned over, then, and took the glass with a slow caress of Vanyel's palm. He shivered involuntarily at the soft touch and found himself wanting to lean into it. Jenson's smile broadened as he made to refill it.

"No, no, I've had quite enough," Vanyel said, holding up a hand to stop him. I hope I can stand when I finally get off this bar stool. His thoughts were muddled and Jenson was looking more attractive than ever. He really is well-made, Vanyel thought stupidly, eyes traveling down the other man's body. "I should probably find my aunt," he said, attempting to shut down the other thoughts.

"I think she may have left you," Jenson said with a chuckle.

Sure enough, the bar had now fully cleared out save an old drunk and the two serving girls, who were chatting and giggling in the corner, eyes darting over to Jenson and Vanyel every few seconds. The room suddenly seemed very warm and very small. I can't remember the last time I was in a tavern at closing time, he thought.

"Mally, Serie, clear out old Buster there, would you?" Jenson called out to the girls. Still giggling, they moved to do so, each taking one of the drunk's arms and lugging him out to the front. When they had left, the door swinging shut behind them, Jenson leaned forward across the bar and looked Vanyel deep in the eyes. "So are you staying or going?"

Vanyel was sorely tempted, but… No. I'm not drunk enough, and I know better these days. The morning would be… unpleasant.

"Leaving." He smiled, then, to soften the blow, and reached to touch the other man's hand. "But thank you for the proposition, and the company. I needed it."

The other man returned his smile and shrugged. "Your loss, but I understand. Come back to see me."

"I surely will," Vanyel replied with a wink. A bit of flirting never hurt anyone…

The bartender laughed and waved. "All right then, Herald Vanyel. I'll be seeing you."