Elven Wine, Paired With Crime

glasser / ɡlæsə(ɹ) / (n) 1: a member of an Aemark anti-magic group 2: a giant cult of angry sadists

Shikya swirled her elven wine in its glass, vortices of hazy purple captivating her addled mind. Probably not a fantastic idea to drink so soon after a near-death experience… The tangy sensation unique to elven varieties complemented the visceral heat in her throat as it slid down. …but it sure feels good. The wine wasn’t widely available, but Venleif was close enough to the Elven Conclave to keep bottles on hand. Traders would frequent the local taverns after supplying the shops with materials and goods, eager to wash down their work in quality libations. The local wineries specializing in it generated considerable profit.

The Shambling Tree catered to the usual clientele of fieldworkers returning from the vineyards. The abundant, boisterous lot paid little attention to the Academy students anymore, even with their conspicuous robes. Their first few visits last year generated some chatter, largely because elven wizards were so rare and doubly so in low-born taverns. Further visits diminished the novelty until everyone treated them as regulars to the Tree, partially brought about by Alec’s penchant for buying rounds of drinks for all.

Shikya sipped a bit more, swishing it around her mouth. More tang than usual today. Must’ve chosen a different vintage. A cheaper one. She glanced over to the bartender, who she recognized from an earlier visit but was not her first choice. The owner, Layris, generously poured from a selection she kept around for Sheyla and Shikya specifically. ‘An elf made loyal is a font of coin.’ The adage annoyed her, but they hadn’t visited another tavern in nearly a year, on Sheyla’s preference. Are we really so predictable? Do humans know more about us than we ourselves do? What does that say about our own self-awareness?

Ella broke Shikya from her reverie with a harsh prod to the shoulder. Her eyes lazily gestured to Alec and Sheyla across from them. Only a few sips remained of Shikya’s third glass, keeping pace with her elven friend, but not as impressive as Alec or Ella. They, as usual, gorged themselves to brink of blacking out. Apparently, she missed the beginning of a conversation about the same subject occupying her thoughts.

“I still can’t understand how you two can stomach the shtuff,” Alec said, slurring the last word and letting a sliver of drool out of his mouth. “It’s like drinking fire or-or acid and stings like needles inshide.” The working part of Shikya’s mind wondered what his parents thought of his extracurricular antics. I suppose the children of Council members do whatever they please. Not that I mind taking advantage of it. The garbled part of her mind giggled at the scene as she held her head up with her hand. She yawned. So sleepy. How are they so energetic?

“Wine or not, I’m surprised you can even wal- stan-… sit. You should be pashed out on the floor,” Sheyla said as she downed the rest of her wine. She offered Alec the empty glass, rivulets clinging to its side. “Want so-… Oh.” She grinned and chuckled at herself. Alec shoved her playfully in response, eliciting a stuck-out tongue. ‘Hark, citizens! Class exemplar and elven genius found half-naked in alley! Reputations ruined!’ Shikya giggled softly at her inner monologue. As if. The two of them rambunctiously swatted at each other, smirking all the while as though they were fledging siblings. When did those two… two… something. She eyed her remaining wine suspiciously. You did this to me. Can’t even complete that thought. Not sure whether to thank or curse you.

“Hungover doesn’ begin to describe the after-, after-… the day after you drink some.” Ella sat up as straight as a drunken arrow, gulped a few mouthfuls of ale, and proudly proclaimed, “Ya’ know, I drank a bottle of it a year or two back. Couldn’ walk straight for a month. Much strong’r than thi’stufsh.” Boasting complete, she slumped into the crook of her arm on the table for a moment before startling herself back to a seated position. She’s had enough, I think. But I hasn’t… haven’t? Haven’t.

Not to be outdone, Shikya guzzled the rest of hers. Its heat melded with the fatigue of recovery into a pleasant, tiresome sensation that she wanted to fall into as one would a bed. Booze did not turn Shikya into a tittering prankster or a boasting noble-born. No, I am a dragon. Great, powerful, and sleeping atop a pile of junk. She slumped to her right as she fought down the dozy feeling, endeavoring to remain in the too-happy fugue state for as long as possible. Alvix’s shoulder merrily assisted with a satisfying ‘thunk’ to her temple. “Ow!”

Alvix righted his friend into a more stable position, smiling as he returned to his water. “You never fail to amuse me on these trips. Someday, I’m going to collect on all those favors you owe me.” He always joked that his ‘duty as the only responsible one’ was to ensure their safety and escort them back to the Grand once they had ‘just an ounce too much for sense and an ounce too little for sanity.’ Not sure what that means, but I’ll accept it. Shikya raised her empty glass and half-nodded in a show of thanks and the others similarly adopted it, albeit delayed by Sheyla and Alec’s mock-fighting.

“To Alvix: our mix-master!” which at least two pronounced ‘mish-masher.’

The young alchemist blushed at the appreciation and pulled a flask from inside his robes. He popped the top and deposited a few thimblefuls of viscous blue substance into each glass and mug. The strange goop stuck not to glasses and rolled around the vessels easily, on top of the brew in Ella’s and Alec’s in fact. “Drink up. If you don’t, I’ll convince Jalind to drag you in for extra training tomorrow.” Everyone slurped the gooey mixture up in one quick swallow. Without hesitation, they winced, hacked, and coughed. Every fucking time! It’s like bile! Worse than bile!

“Bleedin’ ‘ell! Why do I always fhorget?!” Alec hungrily gulped down his ale, desperate to eliminate the aftertaste. Liquid spilled out from the side and down his neck in his haste.

“Shit! I’m out! Gimme yours ‘efore my tongue rots!” Sheyla reached for Ella’s mug, who held her at bay as best a drunk could while she finished, finally slamming the empty mug down on the table with a hefty, satisfied groan.

“Shorry, you’ll hav’ to fin’ your own!” She laughed herself backwards off the bench, flailing and landing with a ‘whoop’ and cackling thump. A few other patrons glanced over at the commotion, chuckled, and shook their heads as they returned to their drinks. Drunken antics were typical at the Tree and no one minded as long as they weren’t personally bothered.

Shikya survived it better than most, turning to Alvix. “Thank you, once again, for being the voice of season. Raisin. Reason.” The potion known as the drinker’s draught nullified the bodily consequences of a night of drinking, but required expertise, time, and costly ingredients. Alvix’s skills and willingness, combined with Alec’s coin, afforded them the opportunity to enjoy these nights to their fullest. The biweekly ritual remained one of the best parts of life at the Grand. “And thanks once more for the recovery brews.”

Alvix murmured something humble and then something self-deprecating about being away when she woke, but Shikya’s attention shifted to a soft burn deep beneath her sternum. The twinging sensation had periodically surfaced since banishing Velzix to the Realms. ‘An aftereffect of severe mana deprivation. It will fade with time. Or it won’t.’ Thanks, Gerard. Very helpful and inspiring.

Pain aside, it felt wonderful to ignore her troubles for a day. The five of them, though primarily Sheyla and Shikya, researched everything they could from the library and debated with Medias, trying desperately to find an explanation for how Vel exceeded the limits of her contract. Shikya carefully worded her explanation such that it relayed only Vel’s apparent attempt to ‘harm’ her. They found little success and fewer conclusions. The debate earlier in the day and during the ride to Venleif was whether she should recall Velzix. No easy way out. Shikya sighed, slipping past her happy fugue state and into a more depressive one. Well, some easy detours at least. She spun her wine glass on its base, listening to the musical sound.

Alvix took this as a sign to usher the drunken lot back to the carriages. Ella wrangled herself back to her feet after she exhausted herself with laughter and loped over to Alec, who was already holding Sheyla standing and his remaining brew in his other hand. After a few more slumped steps from Ella, the mug fell to the floor, and she was hugging them both. Despite his attempts otherwise, Alec’s surprise and attentiveness to his drink caused him to drop both of them in a heap. “My ale…” he whimpered, falling to his knees.

“My ass!” Ella squawked while straining upwards.

“Our asses!” Sheyla added while rubbing a future bruise on her butt.

“Okay, that’s enough. Time to act responsible. Up on your feet. Leave that mug on the ground, Alec.” The three of them groaned like reproached children and stumbled up. Alvix grabbed Alec’s coinpurse (“Hey!”) and left enough to cover their bill plus extra for their exuberance (“Oh.”). “C’mon. Alec, hold Sheyla up. Shikya, you take Ella.” Shikya draped Ella’s arm over her shoulder and hefted the illusionist forward into something resembling walking. She did little better herself.

“Working on it…” She flinched at the pain in her chest and almost lost her footing as they passed the bar but retained her grip on Ella. She shouldered the door open and stepped out into the night air. And rain. “Well, this isn’t fun.” Shikya fumbled around until she could seep a smidge of mana into the buttons on both their robes, activating their warming enchantments. She gave up trying to disentangle her own hood and instead just put Ella’s up.

“The fuck is all this rain?” Ella cleverly observed.

Alvix chuckled and pulled up everyone else’s hoods, Shikya’s included. “Nothing but a little water. Let’s go, quickly, if you can.” They stumbled down the steps and into the sparse street, ducking their heads forward on reflex to avoid catching rain on their faces. Only Alvix had the presence of mind to stick to the side of the street as a passing rider splashed water across four of them, drenching boots and ankles.

Curses and expletives rang out, but Shikya giggled and smiled at the situation. Can’t even walk back without something going wrong. Time for some adventure! ‘Our intrepid heroes, lost and bewildered, must find their way back to camp before dawn!’ Her internal narrator neglected to mention they got themselves into the situation.

Alvix clapped his hand to catch their attention. “If you would all be so kind as to follow me, we can get out of the rain…” He muttered a simple incantation and touched his cloak. As he turned to lead them down the street to the east, a glowing blue circle shone brightly on the cloak, marking him for the others to see in the downpour.

“No fair! I’m the illushionist! I shou’ cast that!” Ella quipped. She pushed some mana through to her hand and mumbled a transformation spell, but all it did was trail some light behind her finger as they went. Though she could not see it, Shikya knew Alvix was smirking. His feet plodded forward at a slow and steady pace. Even as drunk as they were, it was easy to keep up with him. The storm continued to pelt them, slowly wearing their enchantments thin, though warmth had not left them yet.

While Ella, Sheyla, and Alec argued with each other about which shops they should stop at on the way, which they wouldn’t, Shikya’s mind wandered back to darker thoughts. Velzix. Why me? A few hundred warlocks to pick from and you chose me. It was impossible to know. Velzix revealed little during her time in Turan and almost every explanation Shikya considered was equally applicable to other warlocks. Her drunken mind found little opportunity for logic or complex reasoning and instead settled on an inexorable truth:

Because I’m weak.

The familiar constriction of sadness enveloped her heart as Shikya followed the glowing circle ahead of her, confident Alvix knew where they were going. Good. I can devote more time to brooding. What’s next? What else am I? Ella slumped into her as a muddy patch shifted her footing unexpectedly, but Shikya retained enough of her senses to hold Ella steady. She looked up at her, winked, and mouthed a “thank you.” Or closer to ‘shank you,’ I suppose.

Shikya thought back to her and Sheyla’s first days at the Academy. They were outcasts and oddities in more ways than one. As elves, they held less status. Born in the Conclave, burdens weighed heavily on them. A decade older than anyone in their class, many humans perceived them as adults, even if elves treated them as fledglings. We really can’t win, can we, Sheyla? Can’t run away. Can’t abandon family. Can’t please the Old Man. Can’t change the law.

Only Alvix took to them initially. Coming from Rundheart, the complications of Conclave and Kingdom politics meant little to him. Trade from the elven Xanthun Empire flourished in Rundheart, and Alvix felt more discomfort with the regimented taxonomy of citizenship in Aemark than with elves. And thus, three social outcasts banded together in mutual defiance. Quiet defiance. Well, not defiance. I guess we mostly just study. She focused on Alvix’s illusory cantrip, thankful she had such a dependable and devoted friend. Not sure I deserve one. No, I’m fairly sure I don’t.

Shikya propped Ella back up into a more comfortable position for them both as they turned down a different street, worming their way closer to the eastern stables. Ella had been next to join their group. It was, at first, a matter of practicality. Ella’s favorite hobby was creating mindcepts: enchanted cards with abstract and beautiful illusions of concepts. As an enchanter, Alvix could create the ‘blanks’ Ella would cast her illusions on.

Her mind’s eye beheld the world in grandeur unfamiliar to Shikya, if the mindcepts were any indication. The first Shikya ever owned was the mindcept of ‘elves,’ gifted to her and Sheyla by Ella. The mindcept, if assessed purely by appearance, was little more than a green crystal and tree, but it stirred a confusing concoction of pride, beauty, soft despair, and an ever-present sense of growth and change. The mark of a true artist is the gaping disparity between the art itself and the depth of its impact. Or something like that. She squeezed Ella’s shoulder, getting a squeeze on her own in return. A smile played at Shikya’s lips, but didn’t manifest.

When they arrived at the stables, Shikya looked at Sheyla and Alec, boisterously laughing at some joke she missed. Alec had joined their group later out of an increasing sense of competition between him and Sheyla as the two most talented wizards. The initial, grinding social fight for status evolved into mutual respect and later friendly competitiveness, but Shikya was least close to Alec among them. The two of them would fight a dragon to out-do each other. Gods have mercy on you if you get between them during it.

Two carriages awaited them as they reached the stables. One was exceptionally well-appointed, with a lush and cozy interior suited to the upper echelons of society. The driver stood stubbornly in the rain, a golden crest of the Brenthal family catching the light of the lantern above him. Ah. Of course, Alec would ride back in style. The other coach was not as ostentatious, but comfortable and emblazoned with the Aemark Eagle and Crown. Its driver sat inside the carriage, fumbling with something as they approached.

The Brenthal chauffer made swiftly for Alec and placed a warm blanket over him and Sheyla. “My most sincere apologies, Alec Elt. I was not made aware of your place of leisure, and I opted for the stables instead. Do you or your companions require anything?”

Alec laughed. “No, no, we’re alrigh’. Jush going back to the Gran’.” He looked over at the rest of them. “Min’ if I brin’ Sheyla with me?”

Alvix and Ella glanced at each other with a little smile, only they knew the meaning of. “Nah, you go on ahead. We’ll take the Grand’s coach,” Alvix responded before waving at their own chauffer, who fumbled out looking less than professional. Okay, perhaps a lot less than professional. Alec and Sheyla slipped into their carriage while the Brenthal man shut the door, rushing to his own seat.

By the time the other driver made ready for them to enter the coach and stood holding the door for them, Alec and Sheyla were already well on their way. Oh, sure. Just leave us to fend for ourselves. There was no malice in Shikya’s thoughts, and she chuckled to herself.

“Please accept my apologies for the delay. We should be off at once!” The man sniffled and coughed as the three wizards filed in. He held the door wide and appeared eager to leave.

Ella and Alvix chose one side and slid into their seats. Ella immediately slumped against his shoulder, tired and murmuring ‘thank you’ to her friend. As Shikya flopped languidly onto the opposite seat, happy for the extra space, the driver closed the door. An unfamiliar, sweet aroma tickled her nose. “What is that? Did he smoke something in here?”

“Huh? I don’t smell anything…?” Alvix responded as the lucid one of the two and sniffed the air, almost aggressively. “What’s it smell like?”

“Well, it’s something swe- eh, never mind. I’ll survive.”

As the coach pulled away from the stables and across the bridge over the Aeclind River, Ella was already fast asleep, and it appeared as though Alvix wasn’t far behind. Shikya smiled quietly at the sight of two dear friends sleeping against each other after a rather joyful night, despite her inner thoughts troubling her, as usual. She closed her eyes and focused on the gentle jostling and the pitter-patter against the roof. She drifted into a peaceful rest, just on the edge of sleep.

After some time, the carriage rolled to a stop. That seemed fast. I must’ve dozed off. She paid no mind to the sound of the driver hopping to the ground, but the opening door surprised her. Shikya’s head lulled upwards to look at him through half-closed eyes. The moonlight shone on him, and his grizzled face looked stern.

“We’re already there?” She yawned. “You drive faster than…”

The surprise on his face was clear, as though it was unusual for him to have passengers. An uncomfortable pause passed as Shikya wondered if something was wrong. Highwaymen? No, he wouldn’t come back t- Oh, shit! The man harshly shoved a cloth over her face and she gasped, a poor reaction in this case, and the odor from earlier assaulted her senses and rapidly stole her consciousness.

The last thing Shikya saw was his necklace: a roughly cut glass ring dangling from a leather cord.

Fuck. Glassers.