Natasha the Halve

Lakeview is, unsurprisingly, a town next to a lake. As such, tourism plays an important role in the local economy. People from all over Lumin Kingdom gather in Lakeview to witness the Aphelion as its altitude is ideal for gazing at celestial bodies. An ancestor of the current King founded the town a really long time ago after taking down a monster that had its nest in the lake. Through this, he gained the favor of the people before Lumin Kingdom was founded.

Or so said the pamphlet I was reading as we waited for our drinks in the tavern, ‘The Sharp Paw’. The name was a little on the nose for my taste, but who am I to judge. All the power for cat people.

French cat people, I thought with a chuckle and stored the pamphlet.

We sat around a table at the back of the tavern, near the counter.

“Like I said, ale is better,” Bonte insisted.

“No way,” Yolin replied, resting her elbows on the table. “That’s a kid’s drink.”

The space had a rustic vibe: the building was made of wood, same as most of Lakeview’s edifices. Most workers were Tigea, something I noticed became more common the closer we got to Paarjo. Lupum were still a minority, and Humans were a rare sight around these parts.

“You both lack the finesse to enjoy a good wine,” Bromisnar shook his head, a sorrowful expression on his face.

Elves were the flashier group of people, with Faeton being the most common race. Their colorful hairs and dark complexion a giveaway among all the brownish and white furs of the more… animal-looking species.

“I second that,” Alyssa calmly betrayed her lover. “Wine gets better with age, unlike your ale and whiskey.”

“Now, now,” Yolin laughed. “Whiskey also gets better with age. You just need a strong liver and good taste.”

Damn, that’s a roast.

The tavern was pretty spacious, being the only one in town. It was also crowded to the brim. With five floors, it could welcome a large number of patrons, and live performances were scheduled throughout the day for – again, unsurprisingly – performers to share their art. Each received a pay of one silver coin per song according to the poster at the entrance, which was written in French. Other classes could go up the stage too, but they wouldn't get paid.

“You lot talk as if you’ve tried Elven wine,” Lapia scoffed, followed by a chuckle.

Apparently, which poison you chose to kill yourself with was a big matter of discussion. The conversation wasn’t that heated, and they were mostly chilling. Still, a good amount of eyes were looking at us.

More accurately, at me.

Every time I caught someone’s eye, I’d wave and smile. I was never a shy woman, and I was quite sociable if I say so myself.

I mean, can’t get three girlfriends in less than a month if I’m shy, I thought with a smile. Still, that one Elf is looking at me as if I owe her money.

I smiled at the woman, who in turn gave me a short nod. She didn’t break eye-contact, however. Her dull silver eyes locked with mine. It was a little unnerving, but I had gotten used to people staring at me. My glow and overall golden self was eye-catching enough. My species may have something to do with the attention, too. I’m not an exhibitionist, however. I also don't have tendencies that involve staring contests with strangers.

“What do you think, Natasha?” Bromisnar’s question brought me back to reality.

“Potato spirit, or my Kvass,” I replied, looking at the man. “Ale is meh, wine is mid, and whiskey has too much wood aroma for my taste,” I shrugged.

“But where’s the flavor?” Bonte demanded, crossing his arms. “Potato spirit has no taste!”

“See?” Yolin shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Only a kid worries about the taste of his alcohol.”

“Haaa…” the ‘kid’ in question sighed while shaking his head. “You just offended half of the world population.”

“It’s all about patience,” Bromisnar raised a finger. “Wine is best enjoyed after it ages for a thousand years. The olives need to be carefully grown with love and passion. The fermentation should be immaculate, and the aging process is without a doubt the thing wineries should be most concerned about. After a thousand years, a masterpiece is created.”

Wouldn’t that just be vinegar? I kept my question to myself, however. I had no clue as to the specifics of magical brewing of alcohol, or regular brewing of alcohol at that. I only know how to 'brew' Kvass to make Okroshka. I do know from personal experience that wine turns bad when carelessly handled, however.

The Kvass did turn out pretty good.

I remembered their faces of shock and glee when they tried the holiest of soups, and smiled.

“You’ve cast a spell on me, my love~ And I don’t want to find a healer to remove it!~” someone sang from the little stage to my right.

I turned my head and saw a male Lupum on the spotlight. He was tall and pretty well built, wearing silk clothes and singing into a cone that amplified his voice. A male Shishi Tigea was standing in front of him, smiling widely and cheering for him.

“I found you after so long~ And I will share my love with this song~” he sang.

His voice was a little untrained, but it was still good.

Bromisnar chuckled.

“Amateur,” he muttered and shook his head.

“Like your taste in alcohol,” Yolin said with a wide smile.

“Says the one who drinks smelly grain water,” Bonte scoffed.

Holy shit!

I quietly laughed at the silliness of the situation, and noticed the waitress that received us walking towards us with our order.

“Alright, children. Stop fighting,” I interjected and straightened up.

“Rich coming from the youngest,” Bonte said back with a cheeky smile.

That got a chuckle out of the group. I had a wide variety of cat jokes to retort with, but reminded myself that those comments were similar to racism so I kept quiet.

Damned otherworldly morals! I lamented in my mind.

“Here are your drinks!” the waitress announced with a cheerful tone. “Ale, potato spirit, whiskey, and wine!”

Her feline eyes stopped on me for a second and I smiled back. She gave me a professional smile and placed the bottles on the table, then walked away.

“Finally!” Yolin cheered and served herself a glass of whiskey.

“Took the words out of my mouth,” Bonte chuckled and took a sip of his tankard.

I poured myself vodka in a small glass and drank it in a single swig. A pleasantly sweet taste spread in my mouth. I was a little surprised, but the taste was nice and a little spicy so I gave it no mind.

A collective sigh escaped us, and then we all smiled.

“So,” I began, looking at Bromisnar. “You mentioned a song you wrote. What’s it about?”

“Ah!” he smiled, his pink eyes squinting with glee. “A little song about my chase so far. I’ll go and reserve a spot in the schedule for later.” Then asked me, “Would you like to sing something?”

“Sure,” I nodded. “Sounds like fun.”

He nodded, then stood up and walked towards the counter.

“So,” Bonte began, stretching the ‘o’ for a few seconds. “Should we head to Paarjo after the Aphelion?”

“Sounds good,” Lapia nodded. “We already reached level eight hundred so I doubt an ambush would be any trouble. We can continue improving our skills after that.”

Alyssa nodded.

“We can skip Peakside,” she said, fixing a lock of white hair behind her right ear. “We have… other business in Paarjo as well.”

Me, Yolin, and Lapia nodded at that.

Bonte raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Good to me!”

We continued drinking and roasting each other's tastes. Bromisnar returned after a few minutes holding a large piece of paper.

“I go up in about thirty minutes,” he informed us as he took his seat. Then turned to me with a not often seen smirk “You go next, woman of action and decision.”

“What?” I asked, a little confused.

“Here,” he offered me the large piece of paper, which turned out to be a newspaper. “This section right here.”

I took the newspaper and cringed harder the further I read.

“That bitch!” I groaned after reaching the end of the interview. “What is this golden visage of ancient beauty? That's fucking creepy! What kind of journalism is this?!”

“What's that?” Lapia tried peeking, and I gave her the pile of misinformation.

Shaking my head in denial, I poured myself another glass and drank it. The sweet flavor was a nice addition that eased my despair.

What kind of interview is that? Is the entirety of Leks reading that bullshit?

I remembered Nilenna's words about that sneaky panther spreading the interview all over the world. I wanted to choke the bitch.

Lapia erupted in laughter, handing the newspaper around. After everyone had their go at it, laughter filled the atmosphere for a few minutes.

“This is a stain on my name,” I muttered, drinking more. “I should make sure there are no witnesses!”

“Those are some dangerous words,” Yolin said with a chuckle. “Your holy eyes have an 'X' on them now.”

“Is there a spell to erase Leks' population's memories?” I asked Lapia, who was massaging her cheeks after laughing.

“Not in a scale that large, unfortunately,” she replied, fighting a smile.

I sighed.

Well, it's not really that terrible. Still, if I see that woman again I'll let her know she fucked up. In a not so very nice way.

We continued chatting and by the time I had my fifth glass, a deep voice came from my right.

“Bromisnar Bahadh, please come to the stage,” was the announcement.

“My turn,” the Satyr smiled and drank the wine left in his glass. “Observe how it's done.”

We clapped in anticipation as he walked to the stage. Once there, he sat on a stool and the tavern quieted down. A Tigea waitress handed him a microphone-stand-looking thing that held the cone that amplified the voice at the end. His lute materialized in his hands, then plucked the strings and began playing a playful tune.

“Good night, everyone,” he said into the cone, then gave a theatrical bow to the audience. “I am here to share with you a little song inspired by my travels.”

“Yeaah!” someone cheered.

“A Satyr!” another one commented on the obvious.

“He's hot!” a female Lupum cheered.

Laughter went around the spectators at her words, and the man himself gave the woman a small nod.

He raised a hand and everyone quieted down, much to my surprise.

“Who is that woman, You may be thinking?” he nodded at me as he sang, and I noticed more eyes on me. “Do your eyes deceive you?~ Is she a Changeling?”

Everyone laughed, including me. His voice was deep and the flow felt more satirical than serious, ironically. The pace was more like a folk song than I expected.

“Saravia's teachings allow me no lies!” he continued, looking around the tavern. “Thus, I shall tell you what I've seen with my eyes!”

Is everything going to rhyme? I thought, and noticed Alyssa pouring more wine.

“I come from Fatiira, a place you may know,” he increased the pace, standing up. “It's a beautiful country where the suns set low~ I've gone around the world, met someone I consider my brother~ East and west our travels have taken us, with a luck like no other~ We met a group of ladies looking for a chase~ We were surprised, we hadn't seen an Oni in more than a few days!”

Yolin laughed and clapped. Certainly, she was the only Oni I've seen so far.

“An Elf from the Queendom, a Luzo from the south~ Lo and behold, a Halve who silenced my mouth~ At first it was a shock, to see a Luzo far from home~ We met south in Mountroad, delved the dungeon in search of gold~ A mystery, I tell you! Then, I witness brutal combat! Flames like Hell brought death in an instant~ Injuries were a memory far distant~ No monster ever came close~ And a golden blur flashed to kill those~ I played my lute, enraptured in the scene~ My brother Bonte going around unseen~ I have witnessed a lot, and a mere night is not enough~ To share the entire chase would be a task quite tough~ I'm done, forgive my boldness~ But this song is still a work in progress~”

I laughed and clapped along with the rest of the tavern. Bonte whistled and cheered, Lapia smiled and clapped, Alyssa blushed a little, and Yolin was laughing with full lung capacity.

“Such a cheeky ending!” the Oni managed to say between laughter.

“It was pretty good,” I commented, then drank another glass. “I could never.”

The Satyr bowed to the cheers, receiving a few flowers from the enthusiastic crowd. He stored them and smiled at the newly acquired fans.

“He sings pretty good, right?” Bonte asked with pride.

I nodded.

“He does,” Alyssa agreed.

The man in question walked towards us with a big smile, and people resumed their drinking.

“How was that?” he asked as he sat down.

I gave him a thumbs-up as I chugged the last of my vodka.

“Natasha Novak, please come to the stage,” the ominous voice announced my turn.

I stood up without any fanfare and walked towards the stage.

“Your Excellency, Bromisnar informed us you play the piano,” a waitress said, walking to me while bowing a little. “Should I bring one?”

I thought for a second, searching my mind for a good song.

“Sure,” I nodded with a polite smile. “Thanks a bunch.”

She bowed again and I turned to the entire tavern staring at me.

Holy shit. I feel like a zoo animal.

I tried to avoid gulping. This was too much attention, even for me.

The woman returned, and a fucking grand piano materialized on the stage. My eyes widened a little, and I turned away from the crowd. She placed a stand with the magical cone next to the instrument.

I walked to it and sat on the bench, then fiddled with the knob until I found a comfortable position.

Clearing my throat, I closed in on the fantasy microphone.

“How's it going?” I asked the crowd.

I immediately cringed at my choice of words, but the patrons cheered back.

“I hope you like this one,” I said into the cone and pressed a few keys to test the sound.

Let's go with the rat song. Kator is French, after all.

“Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin~” I sang.