Minerva's Night Out

“You’re looking a little peaky, dear,” Linea said, folding some clothes and setting them on the dresser.

“I’m fine, Linea, really,” she replied, standing up from her desk and stretching. Minerva took a few steps closer to the matronly woman.

“Are you certain? I’ve not seen you that pale a while,” answered Linea.

“Really, honestly, I’m fine ,” Minerva said, a half-smile on her lips. She took the next bundle of clothes from Linea’s arms and put it in a drawer. “And stop that,” she gently chastised. “I’m twenty-six.”

“And that’s as far as you’ll get if you don’t get some food into you,” Linea replied.

“Honestly, you’re skin and bones. You need to get out and eat something, maybe enjoy the evening a little. You’ve not had many nights to yourself in a while, have you?”

Minerva sighed. “I’ve had… well, okay, not many, but things have been so busy!”

“Yes, they have been,” Linea said, “but even Samson made time for Cerena in spite of how much he was doing founding the Lyriad.”

Minerva threw her a critical eye. “And how much time did you make for fun in those days, Linea, hm?”

The elder woman coughed. “That’s enough of that,” she says. “We will survive for one night. You need to get yourself out among the people you’re fighting for. Enjoy yourself a little.” Linea set down the basket of clean clothes on the edge of the bed. “Oh, What's this?" She lifted an envelope from the nightstand.  “Looks like more work. Go enjoy yourself, then read it later.”  She set down the envelope and turned to leave her in peace.

As Linea left the room, Minerva sat on her bed and sighed. In truth, it had been a long while since she’d been out… and it would be fun to have a night off, especially with everyone away. Oren and Eliam were off studying at Oren’s tower, and Gwen was leaving to see what was new at Fallowfield. Elise was still in town, but surely she’d appreciate spending time with her sister.

Minerva turned the envelope over in her hands, reading the note she found in lieu of direction.

Minerva, 

''Read this tonight when you're alone. In contains an important question, and I can't bring myself to discuss it in person. I'll see you soon. ''

-Oren She smiled, then dug a finger beneath the sealed fold. She began to loosen it, then though of Linea’s last words, and read the note again. Read this tonight when you're alone. Shaking her head slightly, Minerva tossed the envelope onto her pillow. It spun through the air, resting flat where she’d aimed it. Minerva put on some comfortable clothes, wrapped herself up in her traveling cloak, and left for the streets of Ushad.

She was unaccustomed to time off.

Her adolescence with her father was spent training. Practicing. Learning. She learned the ways of dagger combat, the art of stealth and nimbleness. She learned to be quick. She learned distraction, though she never quite got the hang of sleight of hand… or seduction. Still, they were valuable skills, and she refused to flat-out ignore them.

All these things left little time for leisure. She wasn’t fully certain what to do with spare time. And so it was that she wandered the streets, walking quietly for an hour, before stumbling upon a bar she didn’t recognize with music flowing out onto the street.

She stepped closer. “Mallory’s,” she said, reading the name aloud to herself. Stepping inside, she slowed at the door to take in the sights. There were bards playing on a stage that was adjoined to a smooth wooden dance floor. People were crammed onto it, spinning each other, trading partners, swaying to the music. It’s a dance, she thought.

Minerva had never been much for dancing since her childhood. The music was nice, though, and so she stepped over to the bar and ordered a drink. She leaned against the bar rail, sipping slowly, tapping her foot in time with the rhythm.

An orc passed by the bar and stuck her head in. She looked around, and the crowd stiffened. The music seemed to get stuck on a beat for a moment, and then the orc was gone, and the melody resumed as if to cover up the memory of her presence. Minerva scoffed quietly to herself, downed her drink, and ordered a second.

The second drink was tastier than the first, but the third was best of all. It seemed to have been brewed from liquid courage, for the moment she finished it, Minerva stood -- wobbled -- and walked over to the dance floor. Within instants, she was part of the music.

She spun and twirled around the floor. Sometimes she would grab a stranger’s arm as part of a choreography she was just beginning to learn, and other times she would bow and yield the space to a couple who took the time to perform for the crowd. She found herself laughing, smiling, and relaxing. The weight of the past months and all her trials and travels slipped from her shoulders as she moved. Linea always knows, she said to herself.

The alcohol prevented her from telling if she was actually dancing in time with the music perfectly, but she felt like she was. The only time she felt she was out of step with the melody was when the notes seemed to stagger. She looked around at the musicians and followed their gaze to the door. The orc had returned. She clomped toward the bar; each of her massive footfalls punctuated the lack of beat from the ceasing of the music.

The orc seemed to tower over the bar. She scowled down at the barkeep. “Drink,” she said to the employee in a gutteral tone.

“Y-yessir,” the barkeep answered. He delivered some manner of amber liquid in a glass, which the orc took in her mouth with a single swig. She seemed to swish it around her mouth for a moment before swallowing it. Then she lunged across the bar, grabbed the man, and pulled him over the bar toward herself.

“If I want water,” she growled in a threatening tone, “I go to river. Your drinks are watered down. That’s illegal.”

The barkeep looking around his establishment, red in the face. “I-it was an accident! S-s-surely we can… come to an arrangement?”

The orc drew him closer until he was within an inch of her own face. “Yes. We will.” She dragged him from the bar.

The bar was still. Minerva sighed to herself. So much for a relaxing night, she thought. As people begin to mingle and the first musician began to strike up the music, she slipped toward the rear of the building and emerged in an alley behind it.

Minerva kept to the shadows. She followed the orc’s clomping footsteps and the pleading of the innkeep. The orc dragged him around the side of the building. Minerva found a dumpster nearby, vaulted onto it, then swung herself onto the roof of the building. Adrenaline seemed to suppress her wobble. She approached the edge of the roof and peered down onto the orc and barkeep from above, nearly invisible in the twilight.

The orc slammed the barkeep against the brick of the bar’s exterior wall. He let out a pitiful grunt as he impacted the masonry. “Serving an orc watered down drink. You’re cheap or stupid. Probably both.” She slammed him against the wall again.

Dazed, the barkeep begged, “P-please, no more. I’ll give you anything in the house.”

The orc spat, “I can get better drink anywhere. I already have what I want.”

She drew her arm back to punch him, but Minerva saw her opening. As the orc brought her arm back, Minerva flung herself off the roof, latched onto the orc’s arm, and spun her body to roll with the orc and throw her against the far wall. The orc bounced off the wall and bared her fangs at the new challenger.

“Look,” Minerva said, “he did wrong, but not wrong enough for what you’re doing. Let’s call it even. Go home.”

“Assaulting an officer. Illegal. I’ll beat the penalty out of you,” she replied.

“You,” Minerva hissed to the barkeep over her shoulder. “Leave.”

The barkeep scrambled to his feet. “Thank you!” he cried, stumbling along the wall in his haste to flee.

“Helping a criminal,” the officer added. “Also illegal.” She raised a fist. “You’re coming with me.”

Minerva’s daggers were in her hand before the orc finished talking. “Try.”

The officer charged Minerva, but Minerva sidestepped and cut out with her daggers. The orc stepped back to avoid the attack, then reached in to grab Minerva by the wrist. With a mighty swing, she threw Minerva at the opposite wall. The Lyriad head crashed heavily against it, but took the blow on her back and shoulder blades and pushed back to her feet easily.

The orc stepped forward, her fist moving in a hammering motion from atop Minerva. Minerva sidestepped and stabbed with her daggers. The orc stepped back to avoid it, but hadn’t anticipated the flames that ignited on the weapons, extending their length. The flames pierced the orc’s stomach, leaving deep holes in two places. “It’s over,” Minerva said. “Give up. Go home.”

But the orc grabbed Minerva’s wrists and held her in place. Panting, she gasped, “We will see… how hard you fight… with broken wrists.” The orc’s grip tightened, and Minerva could feel the immense pressure of the orc’s strength compressing her forearms. She tried to pull back, but the orc held her fast.

“D-don’t be stupid,” Minerva grunted through gritted teeth. “I could kill you in a heartb--”

“Then do it,” the orc spat back at her. “Be strong enough to do it, or lose your wrists and die.” She squeezed Minerva’s wrists tighter, and the Child nearly screamed.

“F-fine,” Minerva said, her eyes blazing red. “ Fine. ” The daggers ignited fiercely enough that flames erupted through the orc’s back. The flames widened and ripped through the orc’s torso. The pressure on Minerva’s arms disappeared as the orc let go and fell back to the ground.

With wheezing breaths, the orc gasped, “You should have… done that from the start. Why… toy with your enemy?” She exhaled a final time, and was still.

“It was… supposed to be mercy,” Minerva said softly. She let the flames on her daggers go out, and she walked from the alley.

She passed by the front window of the bar. The music was only just returning to the joyful tones it had been previously. Minerva peered in, resting one hand on the frame of the window as she watched the dancers begin to frolic again. “Maybe someday,” she said sadly.

It took her half an hour to walk home. She used a glyph to get back to the Lyriad. She saw Linea and waved wearily. “You look tired,” Linea said. “Was it a good night?”

“I… had some drinks. And danced a little,” Minerva said.

“Wonderful,” Linea smiled. “Now rest. I bet nothing could bring your night down, now.”

Minerva offered her a faint smile in return. She entered her room, hung up her clothes, and sat on her bed. Her hand passed over the letter on her pillow. She beamed as she remembered the note. Finally, she thought, something to really cheer me up. She opened it up, sighing, and her girlish smile immediately melted as she began to read.