Let me tell you a joke:

For some reason the inn we were staying at was not located on Kigen.

It was not even on Sanus as I had previously assumed. Oh no, that would have been way too easy and way too convenient. And since this was my life we were talking about, nothing could ever be easy or convenient for me now could it?

Of course not. That would be boring, and we could not have that, now could we?

You curious where we ended up?

The five of us were bunking in a small port city called Zosen which was on the coast of Anima instead of the coast of Sanus because, for some strange reason, the Mistralian part of the expedition wanted to cover the lodging expenses for us and there was not any place to sleep on Kigen itself left. Following that, somehow, they believed accommodating us in Zosen was the way to go.

Why, I had no clue. Since I considered this to be the only part where Flint did not have a hand in, I placed the blame on Ozpin for it instead of placing it on my employer.

But I before digressed into listing of all the different things I blamed Ozpin and not Flint for, lets concentrate on the additional complication this whole development meant for me. Mainly, I had to endure STRQ's lovely presence for another three hours. Three hours filled with hateful glares (Taiyang and Qrow), belittling comments solely designed to get under my skin (Raven) and awkward silences produced by full out ignoring my presence (Summer).

Furthermore, this development also carried with it the consequence that for the duration of our stay we had to take a ferry from Zosen to Kigen in the morning and, of course, from Kigen to Zosen in the evening. A single crossing took one and a half hours. It meant that three hours a day I was stuck on a boat plagued by the same situation as described above.

This Kestrel was not happy.

Thankfully the number of Grimm attacks we suffered through was could be comfortably summed up to a nice, round zero. It was a surprising development to me since I was fairly sure Taiyang and Qrow alone emitted enough negativity to attract every Grimm in a ten-kilometre radius.

Nevertheless, I was not about to jinx myself and say anything about it. Us not being attacked was the only streak of luck I had on this journey so far and I was not about to compromise it. Though why Qrow was the only one who got strange looks from the others and not Taiyang as well, no idea. It did not make any sense; Taiyang produced just as much negativity as Qrow.

Normally I would have asked why, but because I wanted to minimize contact with the four of them as much as possible, I refrained from it. The whole thing probably was nothing more than some kind of inside joke if the way Taiyang was elbowing his future brother-in-law's side a few times with a teasing smirk on his face was any indication.

Nothing to worry about there.

Since we were expected tomorrow, Summer decided that we -of course she only addressed her teammates- should just make ourselves at home at our lodging. It was the point when I discovered an additional silver lining: The inn we were staying at was built like one of those taverns often seen or read about in fantasy stories. This development pleased my inner role player/fantasy story enthusiast greatly.

Which brought up another problem. Because of course it did. When could I ever enjoy something without any problem popping up to spoil it?

You see, we had two rooms divided by sex. It was not very hard to see why exactly I had a problem with that. And no, I did not want to sleep with Summer and Raven in the same room under normal circumstances and never would. Summer and I sharing a room would just create an awkward and very uncomfortable silence. Raven and I sharing a room would mean the assured death of what was left of my sanity.

These were not normal circumstances, however. Having to share a room with Taiyang and Qrow? I would have taken the other option in a heartbeat, consequences be damned. Nothing was more frightening then having to spend the night in a room with two huntsmen who could snap you like a twig and who seriously did not like you.

This was the point where the tavern part came in and why it was a good development. You see, the best way to avoid bloodthirsty temporary roommates was not to be in the same room in the first place. The longer I could just sit downstairs in the bar part of the tavern, the longer I did not have to be in close proximity to a pissed of bird and an overly protective dragon.

So here I was, hiding at the bar counter on a bar stool, all by myself and happier for it. The members of team STRQ were upstairs in their respective rooms or in some random spot in the city, leaving me alone and to my own devices. Was it irresponsible of them? Maybe. However, I did not want it any other way.

Sitting here, where I could finally rest and get my bearings together, a craving for beer made itself known and called to me from the deepest recesses of my being. Yes, I was aware that alcohol was not a solution. No, I did not want to drink in excess and end up under a table. The only reason why I even had this craving of mine was out or a desire to relax. Alcohol, even consumed in small dosages, had a calming effect, at least on me. It would help me relax and prepare me for the night and day to come.

There was one slight problem with this, though.

Since I arrived and sat down here at the bar counter, it had been left unattended. After 5 minutes of waiting and no one arriving to take my order I simply swirled my bar stool towards the floor, leaving my back to it.

Most of the patrons were sailors or dockworkers, which was funny in a way. After all, was it not the stereotypical tavern population in a port city you saw in movies? Seriously, the customers in this tavern span the entire range of stereotypes imaginable.

"Sorry for the wait.", someone behind the bar counter suddenly spoke up and ripped me from my thoughts. "What can I get you?"

"One Mistralian Thorn, please.", the words had left my mouth before I had fully turned towards the one who had addressed me. I was a little surprised by what I saw. Or whom I saw, to be more precise.

She was a little older than I, maybe in her early to early mid-twenties. Eyes like honey framed by Long dark brown hair suffused everyone they looked at with a warmth you were hard-pressed to find anywhere else. One might think the plain tank top and jeans combo she was clothed in would detract from her image, but it only enhanced it. Somehow.

"ID, please."

I pulled out the card and gave it to her without saying a word, letting the object in question do the talking. The barmaid accepted it without any further acknowledgement and looked it over with some interest. A bemused expression washed over her face before she lifted her head up towards me, a curious eyebrow raised.

"Nice try.", she said in the driest tone possible and placed the ID on the counter between us. "You are not old enough."

"Where I am from the drinking age is 18."

"I don't care."

"We both know the nearly one-year difference does not actually change anything, biologically.", I actually did not know if it did or did not, but it was worth a try in my book.

"The answer is still no."

"Look, Mrs…"

"The name is Brandy.", my presumption earned me an unamused stare, telling me exactly how wrong I was about her relationship status.

I ignored my faux pas like a professional and pushed past it. "Look, Brandy, I was forced to spend a multi hour train ride followed by another three hours on a boat in the company of two people who want to kill me, one person who, for perfectly valid reasons I admit, refuses to acknowledge my very existence and another one who had made it her personal mission in life to rob me of the last remaining pieces of my sanity. I only ask you to sell me a single pint of beer to help me relax and momentarily forget about the four brain-pounding headaches who will no doubt haunt me for the entirety of my stay here."

She gave me a breath-taking, promise yielding smile. "No."

It was amazing how deep a one-word answer could punch into your core.

Knowing when victory was an impossibility, I conceded and sighed deeply, pocketing my ID. "Fine. Fine. Just… give me a ginger ale then."

"Coming right up!", stop grinning. Seriously, you did not have to rub it in.

While she was working on my drink my forehead found the countertop. It was cool to the touch, alleviating some of my headaches. Just when I was about to fully appreciate the wonderful feeling texture of the word the bar counter was made of, the clank of a glass touching down on said wood made me slowly look up.

Standing in front of me was a glass of ginger ale. Condense water was beginning to form. My eyes wandered from the glass towards Brandy and I gave her my most sour stare. It proved ineffective against the amusement pulling up the corners of her mouth.

"Don't look at me like that. Nothing I can do about your age and It's your fault for traveling with such company in the first place."

I lifted up the glass and took a sip. "It really isn't my fault. I was tricked into it."

One of her fine eyebrows rose in interest. "How so?"

I was not entirely sure why I did it. Maybe it was because of her inviting expression. Maybe it was the trustworthy barkeeper aura she was exuding. It did not matter. Not really. Regardless of the reason I ended up telling her. Not everything, of course. Only the events which led to me sitting here.

She was nodding along while cleaning a couple of glasses as I told the story, offering thoughtful hums now and then. In the end, when all was said and nothing more escaped my mouth, Brandy silently looked at me in a considering manner before she offered me her educated and insightful opinion.

"You are an idiot."

"That's what you are going with?"

"Definitely an idiot."

"Now, I am sure-"

"An absolute moron."

"Oi."

"Incorrigible mouthbreather."

I felt like throwing my hands into the air. Thankfully I did not as it was a bad idea to do it with a half-filled glass in your hand. "I GET IT. I get it. You are not impressed; Believe me when I say I get it."

"Do you? I for one believe it should be said a couple of times more, just to be sure that you do."

"You really don't.", I took a sip from my ginger ale before placing it back on the countertop while looking to the side to avoid seeing her very much unimpressed expression. "Everyone had been saying something similar."

"Which should have clued you in; You have fucked up."

"I would not go so far to say that I fucked up…"

"Trust me when I say -and believe me, everyone else with a modicum of common sense will agree with me- you did."

This time I threw my now thankfully glassless hands up in the air. "Okay, I admit it out loud: I should not have agreed to this trip."

"That's so not what I meant."

Brandy did not even give me a chance to inquire further and sauntered off. No doubt another patron had tried to get her attention and she used it as an excuse to just walk away and let me stew. Which meant I was once again alone with my thoughts.

As boredom threatened to overtake me my eyes began to wander to the parts of the floor which they had not ventured to before. And what they found brought joy into this lukewarm heart of mine.

A, dare I say, beautiful piano was standing in the corner to the bar's right. How I overlooked it, no idea. Then again, I did not even know the name of the fine establishment I was currently in since I had other stuff to spend my attention on. Like watching out for anything coming from Taiyang and Qrow. It was more than likely that my brain had, without my permission, filtered out anything which was not useful for them in aiding their inevitable strike against my person.

As I was stewing here on my barstool with only one glass of ginger ale in front of me and with nothing better to do, there was no force in nature capable of stopping my eyes from wandering towards it again and again. No matter how many times I looked away, a few seconds later my eyes would find the instrument once more.

Ever since I ended up on Remnant there had been no chance for me to play and now, when faced with such a beautiful specimen, there was this tingling in my fingers. Five minutes later and having nearly finished the glass in front of me, I found the courage to turn my attention toward Brandy who had at some point walked back to the part of the counter I was sitting at.

"Is everyone allowed to play that?", I asked after emptying my glass and placing it on the countertop for her to take and pointed at the object of my interest in order.

Her eyes followed my finger. The older girl took a second to mull my words over before she opened her mouth. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Are you actually able to play the piano?", judging from the look on Brandy's face, she did not believe I could.

Heresy! "Yes, I am."

"Then go ahead. But I won't take responsibility if you make a fool out of yourself.", there was a certain challenge in Brandy's eyes and in the way the corners of her mouth quirked a little.

Wow, her faith in me was astounding. If I was anyone else, I would have been offended by it. Barely holding myself back from flipping her the bird I stood up and was about to go but stopped dead in my tracks, having forgotten something important.

"Any preference?", I asked after turning back towards her. It was polite after all, since she manned the bar and really, I did not want to make her evening as miserable as my day had been. Even though she refused me the alcohol, I was not that petty of a man.

Brandy did not have one, by the way. A fact she made known not with words but a simple shake of her head.

Shrugging my shoulders, I continued on my merry way to the musical instrument and was doing my best to ignore the inquisitive and judging looks some of the other patrons in the room were given me. No doubt they had overheard at least the last part of Brandy's and I's conversation.

Sitting myself down and I was met with one of these hurdles I always found myself facing whenever my person was sitting in front of a piano: What should I play? There were so many things to choose from and months without playing the piano left me with severe withdrawal. I have to chose very carefully, lest I would not be able to play more than one song. Put on your thinking hat, Kestrel!

I was currently in a tavern in a port city. It was late evening and most other patrons were sailors or those who worked in the port…

Guess Piano Man from Billy Joe would work, if nothing else. I doubted anyone here on Remnant knew the song and since I was not drunk enough to sing, well… At least in my mind it would tell Brandy exactly what I was. I considered it a stroke of genius and briefly patted myself mentally on the shoulder for a job well done.

But first, let me stretch.

Before you said anything about it, yes I was aware that there was no actual reason for stretching before playing outside of maybe an impending concert long performance and all it really did was making you look cocky, but to be fair I was about to prove the person who denied me alcohol wrong and because of it I felt justified in my actions.

Judging from the quiet snort I heard from her general direction, Brandy had realized the intent behind it and was at least a little amused by my mannerisms. Nice to know that she was entertained. Maybe following my little performance, the alcohol would be on the table after all.

Did extending the foreplay sound like a good idea? Yeah. Yeah, it did. So, in the spirit of it all I did not immediately start to play the actual song and fumbled theatrically around instead, randomly choosing keys to play without any rhyme or reason. Playing always put me in a strange mood as you would have most likely guessed by now so stop giving me that judgemental look.

Then, finally, I started to play in earnest.

The relaxing and almost soothing song began to weave itself through the room and soon enough everything else faded out of my senses, leaving behind only the piano, the music and me. With each passing stroke the tingling vanished little by little until the only thing left in my appendages was a subdued hum which resonated with the sounds the piano produced.

Though I could tell you exactly how long the song was, for me it felt like a small, peaceful eternity away from all the troubles I had.

When I finally came back to my senses I was greeted by polite clapping from all around. Feeling empowered by it my head turned towards Brandy and an eyebrow rose in challenge. She accepted her defeat gracefully and with only a little eye roll. The warmth of victory spread through my bones.

There was one anomaly, though.

Someone was clapping right beside me. Where there were no tables or anything else. Slowly with a sense of foreboding I turned my head and… there was Raven, leaning against the piano to my right with her hands still clapping and her legs crossed. Her face almost spoke of almost being impressed.

"Well played."

"What are you doing here?"

"And hello to you too.", she rolled her eyes at me. "My job, does that ring any bells?"

"A job I know for a fact you are perfectly capable of handling from upstairs. Like the rest of your team."

"After hearing your impressive little performance? Nope.", stahp it Raven, you nearly made me blush. "I didn't know you could do that, by the way."

"Really? I am sure I mentioned it already."

"Not to me you haven't."

"Heh.", I could not stop my amusement from escaping. Neither could I help the small grin. "So, he does not tell you everything."

"What else can you play?", Raven did not acknowledge the jab verbally, though there was a minuscule twitch in the corner of her eye. Another point for yours, truly.

"Only the piano, I am afraid."

"Smartass. I meant are there any other songs you can play? Something a little more, I don't know, upbeat?"

"Oh?", not wanting to disappoint and totally forgetting who I was talking to I started to play Jailhouse Rock without breaking eye contact. "Something like this?"

Raven shook her head in obvious amusement. "Yeah, something like this."

The next half an hour I spent by basically having Raven and some of the other patrons throw suggestions at me. Since I was not really all that knowledgeable when it came to Remnant's music, most of the time it ended up with them trying to give me something to work with by either humming the tune or clapping it and me trying to recreate the song they wanted to hear from what they gave me to work with.

I was off the mark many times, of course, and what I played was an improv more often than not. It was largely satisfying, nonetheless. A relaxed atmosphere had settled over the room and I was without a shadow of a doubt enjoying myself immensely. When some even started to drunkenly dance to the music at some point?

It was safe to say that my first evening made my outlook on the future a little brighter.