Martin slammed a finished bottle into the wooden table. “So, you wish to hear about how I became the Great Queen Viol’s caretaker?”
“No one is asking that question, Martin.” Queen Viol interjected.
Martin slammed another finished bottle into the table. “Well too bad, my liege, I’m telling it now.”
The bartender walked up directly behind Martin, “this drunkard bothering you, madam? I can have the ruffian removed. I’ve been watching him chug over twelve bottles in the last five minutes. I think he’s had enough.”
Queen Viol waved the bartender away, “it is fine. Honestly. Besides, he isn’t a drunk. It is physically impossible for him to get drunk.”
Martin slammed down two finished bottles at once, smiling a bearded grin to Heroic, Punelope, and Lexicon. “It all started with my mentor-”
A black, metallic arm breaks through the walls of the storage room, right next to Martin, the Battle Mage’s apprentice. He stares at the metallic arm calmly, a bottle of beer to his lips.
“MARTIN.” The Battle Mage shouted from the other side of the wall, “IF YOU DON’T STEP OUT OF THE STORAGE ROOM AND STOP DRINKING ALL THAT ALE, I WILL BREAK DOWN THIS WALL AND I WILL NOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY.”
Martin set down his third finished bottle, wiping the beer from his sparse, orange beard. “Would you really risk breaking the Queen’s storage room? Honestly, this one has all the beer, ale, and other intoxicating drinks. You would essentially cause a minor prohibition if you were to fire tha-”
The black, metallic hand twisted back into the forearm with a solid “click,” revealing the top of a silvery, gear-ridden cannon. A purple bolt of energy flew out of the cannon, gears spinning at blurring speeds with an insane grinding noise filling Martin’s ears.
The bolt of energy hit the wall opposite of Martin, a flash of light blinding Martin, the huge explosion filling his ears with a deep ringing. Martin rolled around violently on the ground. He felt wet all over and bruised in several parts of his body. Something was trickling down his face.
As the ringing in his ears began to die down, Martin could hear his master talking.
“-Orry for this, my queen. My apprentice was trying to conduct a high-level spell, and I told him to find somewhere quiet to practice it. I didn’t think he do it in the royal wine cellar!”
Martin tried to stand to his feet, but fell back down. He whispered a healing spell to himself, and in a flash of white light he could see again.
The Queen herself stood with his master, Battle Mage Toffta. They were both intimidating. The Queen wore a black mask of some demonic creature, the sign of the royal family, and wore a black cloak that hid her black-and-green armor.
Martin’s master Toffta turned to him, a sly smile spreading across her scarred face. She was a stout woman, but built like a barge. She had seen constant war, as marked by the three large scars running down diagonally from her hairline to her chin and her mechanical arm-cannon. Her hair was silvery-blond, and cut short to show off her scars. She also never took off her armor, a menacing red-and-black ensemble that resembled the queen’s royal armor.
Rumors say that she and the queen were incredibly close as children.
“Oh, finally. My foolish student cast a healing spell on himself.” She said, pointing to the still slumped-over Martin with her mechanical arm-cannon.
The Queen quickly turned to Martin and helped him back up to his feet, only to bring him to eye-level with her terrifying, blood-red irises of her mask. “Why did you think it was a good idea to cast such a dangerous spell in a room full of flammable materials and breakable objects!? If you didn’t know white magic, you could’ve died! I almost called the royal doctor to come and attend to you, you had cuts everywhere and were bleeding heavily from your head!”
Martin looked down at his trainee’s tunic, a plain brown thing, and noticed the large burn marks and pieces of glass embedded in his garb. He made a quick glance to his mentor, then looked back into the Queen’s mask. “I-I wasn’t the one who blew up the storage room.” He stated calmly, a special ability Martin had despite what trouble his rampant non-alcoholism got him into.
“THEN WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH ALL THE ROYAL WINE?”
Martin made another glance to his mentor, who stared at him with a raised, scarred eyebrow.
Martin sighed, calmly returning his eyes to the mask’s. “Sorry. I was trying to do that spell. No one was in the storage room. I thought I had it down. Forgive me.”
The Queen released Martin, “oh, you are not getting off that easy! You caused a temporary prohibition! It took years to stockpile all of that! I’m glad you’re safe, but you WILL have to pay in one form or another.”
The Queen returned to the Battle Mage Toffta. “What’s the boy’s background, Toff?”
Toffta “Not much. He is highly skilled in magic, so he was put under my tutelage. He has no money to speak of, or any wealthy family. He is incredibly skilled in white magic. He has trouble causing a decent black magic spell, but he found a way to cure a hangover.”
“How would he cure a hangover with magic?” The Queen asked.
“We can cure DEATH if we catch someone early enough with white magic,” Martin calmly interjected, “what would stop me from curing a hangover?”
The Queen nodded, “that makes sense, surprisingly.”
Toffta simply nodded, her stern eyes brightening greatly, “oh, I have an idea! Don’t you have a daughter, Indi?”
The Queen nodded, “what about it?”
“You could make my apprentice Martin pay for the damages with his life. Have him watch over your daughter. He’s skilled in the healing arts. Should your daughter ever get hurt, he should be able to heal her.”
The Queen nodded. “That’s also makes sense. I would show him myself to my daughter, but I have some business I must really attend to. Toff, would you be able to?”
Battle Mage Toffta simply nodded. The Queen nodded back, and soon she was quickly walking away from the two of them.
Martin walked up to his mentor, and gave her a strange look. “Toff, Indi?”
Toffta backhanded Martin. “It’s nicknames we made for each other as kids. Her full name is Indigo. Never use that in front of her though. She’ll execute you like she almost did for drinking the royal wine.”
Martin wasn’t surprised, but he still felt the need for clarification, “what?”
Toffta frowned, “you were an idiot, and you drank from the royal alcohol. You could be dead. So I saved you. The Queen is more kind to those who almost died than a drunk. So now you’ve paid for your life. Come along now. We have a child you need to meet.”
Toffta began to walk off, but Martin remained. “I can cure hangovers. I’ve never been drunk in my life.”
Toffta chuckled slightly, turning back to her student. “Oh well then. Come along, ‘Martin the Sober,’ you have a child to watch over. Now get over here.”
Martin the Sober sighed, and began walking after his master.
And his life was never the same.
