62nd of Spring, 511 AV Marius had always despised silence. He didn’t like empty rooms, let alone ones that lacked the creak of timbers or the scratching of rodents. To him, those sorts of places were anathema. He rarely slept, but on such occasions he was known to converse with himself while falling asleep, in a deep slumber, and even continue the same discussion through his morning bath. He was the sort of person who was incapable of silence. This evening, as Marius leaped through the door of The Stranger’s Welcome, a silly grin plastered on his face, he was looking forward to a night of boisterous revelry. However, he was sadly disappointed. There were plenty of other patrons, but they were muttering to each other in a revoltingly subdued manner, not celebrating. “Now this won’t do,” he said to nobody in particular. “This is most unsatisfactory.” Back in Zeltiva, he’d been known to bellow at the top of his lungs in temples, the university, and even at funerals, with the intent of creating uproars. He was singularly effective at this pursuit. So effective, in fact, that he’d been on the receiving end of more beatings and rebukes than he could remember, and was barred from the university for perpetuity. This places reek of solemnity, he scowled as he sauntered to the bar, solemnity and cheese. Oleg was telling a story about Olga, as usual. Marius didn’t have anything against the man’s cousin, but he objected to hearing the same yarns over and over again. “Oleg, my good man,” he tossed his purse on the bar, winking. “The degtine is on me tonight,” he said loudly, causing the other patrons’ heads to perk up. “Are you sure?” Oleg raised an eyebrow. “As sure as my ‘nuncle Ambrose was the night he decided to marry his neighbor’s goat,” Marius chortled. He seized the bottle of degtine the barkeep set before him, took a long swallow, and then leaped onto a table. By now, people were beginning to crowd around the bar, eager for the free booze. “Ever hear this one?” he shouted, belting out the first verse of ‘The Lusty Spearmaiden’ while dancing an enthusiastic, yet clumsy jig. |