As the Dust Clears
The morning air was still. Cool air sat in the deep canyons of the 9th District, stifling sound. Ravnicans scurried about their business, looking only to get back to their homes as swiftly as possible. Boros patrols were about, as thick on the streets as the lingering cold. Even knights of the Azorius moved about, their bright swords and hammers bright in the low light of the morning.
Sleep had evaded me the night before, and even now I cannot rest. I pace through the meadery, my claws clacking on the marble floor. If I don’t stop, I’ll tear a furrow into my floors, I thought, stopping myself. I’d been pacing for at least an hour, back and forth, my tail unhappily thumping. I shook myself from my cold, tired reverie, frost falling from my gleaming scales.
Walking behind the Low Bar, I pushed into one of the many back rooms in the meadery. There, my close friend and companion Barnaby waited on his perch. Barnaby was a raven. Brilliant white, with small streaks of black and blue on his flight feathers, my friend had taken residence in the meadery the first day I had opened. Luckily, he was relatively clean, and extremely helpful.
With a squawk, Barnaby flew over to me and landed on top of my head. Landing on the bridge of my snout, the bird cawed a gracious good morning, trying very hard to imitate Ravnican.
“Good morning, my feathered friend.” Laughing, my form rumbled and Barnaby tried his best to maintain his grip on my scales, “I have a mission for you today. Do you think you can handle it?” The raven cawed and took wing, back to his perch. Pecking his food tray, Barnaby stared deep into my eyes.
Chuckling, a long, earthen sound, I gave the bird some food, and began penning a note:
“ Master Alek,
I hope this morning finds you well. How are you and Ivaria doing? Last night was incredibly difficult for many. Should you ever need my aid, you know where to find me.
Respectfully, Asmund
Delivered by: Barnaby the Raven”
Nodding approval, I extended my left wing to Barnaby. Luckily we had plenty of space in this room; a number of stills and other equipment were in this cavernous space where Barnaby made his home. The raven hopped along my wing’s leading edge, up my back, and over my head. Snaking my neck to the nearest window, I rest my chin on the sill, “Barnaby, I have a note for you to deliver. Please wait until Alek finds it. He’s an Izzet mage, do you remember what they look like?”
I wait for Barnaby to cock his head to the side, extending a leg; thankfully, I can use a single claw for a pen, allowing me to write smaller more “normal” sized notes. Continuing, I tied the note to Barnaby’s leg, “He has a lab down the street a bit; he’s got darker hair and an extensive mustache. Once he sees you, leave the note and come home, okay?” Squawking happily, Barnaby gleefully launched himself through the window.
Fair enough, then. Inspecting the brewing equipment on the way out, their brass and steel playing havoc with the wall colors in the early morning sun, I stomped, exhausted, out of the room. Behind the bar again. Just where I like it, I thought, adding, a home away from home. Ruling is one thing, but relaxing, being a commoner. That’s another, wonderful thing.
Starting with the High Bar, looming above the Low Bar by over 20 feet, I began to clean. Wiping down the mahogany until it shone, carefully washing each goblet, stein, and mug, and slowly dusting each and every table. Unless there was another emergency, I would stay here today, until I gained some of my energy back.
The incident at the 28th Legion was, is, disturbing. Localized earthquakes don’t ever happen, unless it’s magical. Gardonia has claimed foul play, and I’m willing to believe him. My mind raced with possibilities. Who would do this? Why? What were they distracting us from? All questions I would need answers to. Perhaps the Dimir could help? The Baker down the street, or Lasav, might now something.
For now, however, I had a meadery to run.
@gardianforce @bobstropajo @shepherd-ivaria @lasav-the-sneakster
