Solo All Froth and No Sustenance

[Verin Rush]

7th Day of Fall, 514AV

The light of Syna was beginning to fade from the sky, and the well-known establishments were steadily beginning to fill with punters who were winding down for the day. For Verin, however, his day was just beginning. Oh, he’d been up before the twelfth bell, but he had allowed himself to sleep in, having worked until the early hours of the morning the night before, and he would be doing the same tonight. At about four bells past noon, Verin had left his Tarsin's Boarding House and wondered down the canal fronts and narrow passageways to reach the Malt House, his place of work.

“What will it be, Sir?” He asked the gentleman, someone he had not seen before, or if he had, he didn’t recognise him. The man asked for a gallon of ale and a meal. “We have a bit of a wait on the food, as always, Sir; this is our busiest period. No more than about twenty chimes... someone will bring the food out to you.” Verin spoke the well-recited words in a half-monotone as he scribbled down down the order in his untidy scrawl.

Thinking of the sorts of people he had seen pass through here, Verin could never regard bar work as a long-term profession. Maybe for someone who owned an establishment for themselves, or hoped to be able to one day... or maybe even for those who would one day inherit. But, for him, it was little more than a filler, a way to earn a little bit of money to keep himself afloat before he was able to move on to better things. Other than Grayson, Verin was quite possibly one of the longest serving members of staff in the Malt House team but, as a general rule, it lacked traditional employment protections and therefore, Verin viewed the job as having a high turnover.

The materialistic part of Verin wondered if the high turnover could be directly related to they low wages that bartenders received. Yes, Verin had received a raise as he became more experienced in the profession, but it was still a relatively poor earning, barely enough to be able to live in relative comfort and save. "But then...", the elder of the Rush twins thought as he poured out the pint of ale, "if I were to compare my work to the intricacies of my brother's chosen career... there can be no doubt as to which is the more skilful, which takes the more effort, thus which would be worth more in terms of payment. " Verin could not begrudge the reasoning behind the relatively low wages, nor would he make a petition for higher.

What did somewhat irk the blond, however, was how inexperienced may of his colleagues appeared, even those who had been working for the Malt a house for a number of seasons. Whereas Verin knew prices off the top of his head, and knew which drinks worked with certain palates or meals, others knew nothing. Verin had also had the opportunity to build up cordial relations with regular customers,in very much the same manner that Grayson had developed, yet the short-term staff did not have this rapport, thus were not as effective at their work.

[Verin Rush]

The Malt House was busy - not as busy as Verin had ever seen it, but it was busy nonetheless, and Verin found himself enjoying every moment of it. The elder of the Rush twins often felt complacent at his place of work, and more often than not, it took effort on his part to leave the room he was renting in order to make his way over. After a number of years of working for the popular establishment, the Black Sun initiate felt as if he had reached the limit of this apparently dead-end job, and he didn't have any interest in continuing bar-work for much longer. Grayson Falkes, who Verin now considered a close friend, having worked for and with him for so long, understood Verin's plight - just like everyone else, he had never been overtly told, but Verin made no secret of his devotion to Rhysol and the tavern owner was not a slow-witted man... he had no doubt worked it out.

His longevity at the place of work was something that left him to have a good relationship with Grayson and many of the longer serving staff, such as the cook. This relationship was extended to many of the regular punters, who hard the rare luxury of getting away with mercilessly teasing the blond bartender. In return, he knew their tender spots, and would happily and willingly rip into their faults and dislikes as he causally poured them their regular drinks. It was times like this where he could say that he enjoyed his job; he knew that these bonds could be very productive to his hopeful career as an Agent of the Black Sun. Yet, despite all this, the soul-crushing monotony was ever present...

"Are you still making food, lad?" A man, well dressed, with a number of men in tow, broke Verin out of his cleaning of the ale taps. Such a task had long since become muscle memory and he could drift into his own thoughts. He glanced up and eyed the man, and his cohorts, noting that they looked familiar, yet were not regulars. Dressed well in clothes that didn't seem to be endemic to Ravok, he thought that they must be frequent travellers of some variety. The tavern was lucky enough to attract the well off as well as the drudges of Ravokian society, though he was relatively surprised to see such men at this time.

“Personally? No, I'm not still serving food, Sir. Nor was I.” Always one to enjoy a verbal sparing, Verin often found himself playing with the semantics of what a patron said, luckily, the man seemed to take it in good humour, as he suspected. “The girls and kitchen staff will, however, continue to serve food for the next... bell or so.” It was a rough estimate; Verin, always keenly aware of the value of money, would convince Grayson to send the girls and kitchen staff home whenever patronage to the tavern had lulled for the night. But it was more that that - by that point, people would be intoxicated and though the city was no comparison to the stories he had heard of the anachronistic city of Sunberth, it wasn't always safe. The girls were service helpers and if they wanted to prostitute themselves out, they would have gone to work as one of the many brothels in the city. Grayson disagreed, adamant that the girls were a good sight for the men, but Verin was far more stubborn.

[Verin Rush]

"Then what would you suggest for food, young chap?" Verin finally worked out were he knew the accent from; he had heard a Nykan traveller talking in much the same fashion. Proud of this discovery, he tuned back into what the man was saying, "...last time I was here you couldn't move for fish! Yet now it seems that you are plagued with a distinct lack of them. What is wrong with Ravok?" Verin frowned. As a bartender, he was privy to bar-talk and rumour mongering all day. In theory he was one of the best informed when it came to the Fish.

Yet he loathed discussing it. “May I recommend a dish that our esteemed cook has created just to curb your desire for our beloved trout? A seasoned chicken leg will have you forgetting that fish even exist, I assure you.”. The man hesitated but nodded, and Verin smiled, “It will be about half a bell, gentlemen,” Verin said, over estimating because he knew how busy it was. The man stared expectantly, and a quick I glacé behind showed that the other four were also paying more attention to him now, also hoping for gossip.

Fighting back a sigh, he spoke. “The Black Sun have not long decreed that there is something in the water. You might have noticed that the ferry you arrived on was busier that usual? This is because of tap few attacks. All ferries sailing must be decreed by the Black Sun and, therefore, have Rhysol's divine protection.” He paused, glancing around for another customer to serve, anyone to tear him away from this conversation, but more were beginning to listen in. “It is suggested that this... Monster is the cause of the fish depletion.”

“Can I get you gentlemen any drinks whilst you wait?” He asked desperately, glancing around in search of an ally to drag the flow of conversation away from speculation and rumour, before a man piped up from the back that ale would suffice. Five mugs later, he passed them over for the correct money, adding on the price of the food to the tab. The total came to 4 gold mizas and five silver ones which,despite displaying their wealth through their clothing, the men paid for in silver and copper pieces, much to Verin's irritation. But he forced a smile and accepted the money, knowing that this man, although he wasn't a regular, did keep returning when he visited the city, and such patronage was valued.