Whistling a tune, Maltavro makes his way from his home
to the Heartwood Tavern. He greets Heartwood Tavern's barkeep warmly.
"Good day, Manlawen! How do you fair?"
The blond wood elf returns the bard's contagious grin as he continues to wipe a glass clean. Quite good, thank you. Your room should be all ready for your party, and Glenar will be tending to the bar for your group tonight. Please take a look back there to make sure everything's up to your standards."
"Of course, I'm sure it is! Goodness, your son's old enough now to serve drinks? Where has the time gone, Manlawen?"
He shakes his head and laughs. "I have no idea. Oh and a young lad is already here and claimed to be a part of your group? I sent him into back room, but he looked quite young to me, so I'm a bit suspicious. If he's not really invited, let me know and I'll boot him out for you."
"Young lad?" Maltavro scratches his chin for a moment. "Say, he didn't have reddish orange hair did he?"
"Yes, in fact he did."
"Oh, then yes he is a part of our group. He's young, but old enough to be accepted into Faydark's Champions. My brother just goes and on about how promising he is and how fast he'll rise in the ranks."
Manlawen laughs shakes his head in disbelief. "You're making feel really ancient now. Go on, shoo!"
Maltavro steps through the door into the private room rented to them for however long they wished to use it for the night. The room is clean with two tables and chairs in the middle. The right and left walls each have a diamond shaped window in the middle and a small table for two underneath. At the far end of the room there was a bar where Glenar stood chatting with Nikoi.
Maltavro had seen Nikoi in passing a few times, but the two hadn't ever been formally introduced. "Hi Glenar! And Nikoi good to meet you. I'm Maltavro Truesong in case you weren't aware."
"Yes, of course I know who you are and it's an honor to be invited, thank you, sir." Nikoi speaks with such formality and stiffness which takes all of Maltavro's willpower not to laugh and embarrass the boy.
No wonder Alondar likes the lad. He's wound up tight as he is.
"No, no don't you dare call me 'sir'. This is going to fun, relaxed party among friends and family here. You can just call me Maltavro, or just Tavro if you wish. I answer to either."
"Why Tavro and not Mal?" Nikoi queried.
"Mal is so short, and I dislike how it sounds by itself. I only tolerate it from my brother because even with that bad arm of his, he could still beat me up if he wished. When someone is stronger than you, it's best to let them call you what they prefer."
"General Antares is a great man and wouldn't do that, sir-er Maltavro."
He snorts. "So you know my own brother better than me then?"
"I-I didn't mean that, but I can't imagine him hurting his own family like that for such a silly reason."
Maltavro laughs, "Oh, I wasn't being serious, though when we were kids he really did give me some sound thrashings. To be fair though I deserved most of them. We're as different as water and fire the two of us, and his buttons were all too easy for me to push."
"I always thought it'd be nice to have a brother or even a sister." Nikoi says a bit wistfully.
"I've had both and even though you fight at times, there is something special about it especially when you get older and sometimes manage to become friends. I wouldn't trade my brother for anything in the world despite his flaws. Don't you dare tell him that though. He'll taunt me forever with those words."
He winks at the young elf and turns to Glenar. His hair is blond like his father's with bright green eyes. "Hey Glenar, what selection do you have there?"
The blond elf shows him the elven wine, gypsy wine, honey mead, and then Maltavro spots the vodka. "Ah ha! I'm glad your dad remembered to order me the stuff."
"What drink is that?"
"You're a barkeep's son and never heard of vodka? Why it's the best drinks humans have invented of course!"
Both Glenar and Nikoi give Maltavro doubtful looks. "Trust me, this is really good stuff!" Now what do you have back there for snacks, Glen? Let's get some bowls and put some of that food out on the big tables."
He leans his mandolin down against the wall, humming another tune softly as he takes a bowl filled with chips and places in the middle, wondering how much longer it'd be before everyone else arrived.
"Good day, Manlawen! How do you fair?"
The blond wood elf returns the bard's contagious grin as he continues to wipe a glass clean. Quite good, thank you. Your room should be all ready for your party, and Glenar will be tending to the bar for your group tonight. Please take a look back there to make sure everything's up to your standards."
"Of course, I'm sure it is! Goodness, your son's old enough now to serve drinks? Where has the time gone, Manlawen?"
He shakes his head and laughs. "I have no idea. Oh and a young lad is already here and claimed to be a part of your group? I sent him into back room, but he looked quite young to me, so I'm a bit suspicious. If he's not really invited, let me know and I'll boot him out for you."
"Young lad?" Maltavro scratches his chin for a moment. "Say, he didn't have reddish orange hair did he?"
"Yes, in fact he did."
"Oh, then yes he is a part of our group. He's young, but old enough to be accepted into Faydark's Champions. My brother just goes and on about how promising he is and how fast he'll rise in the ranks."
Manlawen laughs shakes his head in disbelief. "You're making feel really ancient now. Go on, shoo!"
Maltavro steps through the door into the private room rented to them for however long they wished to use it for the night. The room is clean with two tables and chairs in the middle. The right and left walls each have a diamond shaped window in the middle and a small table for two underneath. At the far end of the room there was a bar where Glenar stood chatting with Nikoi.
Maltavro had seen Nikoi in passing a few times, but the two hadn't ever been formally introduced. "Hi Glenar! And Nikoi good to meet you. I'm Maltavro Truesong in case you weren't aware."
"Yes, of course I know who you are and it's an honor to be invited, thank you, sir." Nikoi speaks with such formality and stiffness which takes all of Maltavro's willpower not to laugh and embarrass the boy.
No wonder Alondar likes the lad. He's wound up tight as he is.
"No, no don't you dare call me 'sir'. This is going to fun, relaxed party among friends and family here. You can just call me Maltavro, or just Tavro if you wish. I answer to either."
"Why Tavro and not Mal?" Nikoi queried.
"Mal is so short, and I dislike how it sounds by itself. I only tolerate it from my brother because even with that bad arm of his, he could still beat me up if he wished. When someone is stronger than you, it's best to let them call you what they prefer."
"General Antares is a great man and wouldn't do that, sir-er Maltavro."
He snorts. "So you know my own brother better than me then?"
"I-I didn't mean that, but I can't imagine him hurting his own family like that for such a silly reason."
Maltavro laughs, "Oh, I wasn't being serious, though when we were kids he really did give me some sound thrashings. To be fair though I deserved most of them. We're as different as water and fire the two of us, and his buttons were all too easy for me to push."
"I always thought it'd be nice to have a brother or even a sister." Nikoi says a bit wistfully.
"I've had both and even though you fight at times, there is something special about it especially when you get older and sometimes manage to become friends. I wouldn't trade my brother for anything in the world despite his flaws. Don't you dare tell him that though. He'll taunt me forever with those words."
He winks at the young elf and turns to Glenar. His hair is blond like his father's with bright green eyes. "Hey Glenar, what selection do you have there?"
The blond elf shows him the elven wine, gypsy wine, honey mead, and then Maltavro spots the vodka. "Ah ha! I'm glad your dad remembered to order me the stuff."
"What drink is that?"
"You're a barkeep's son and never heard of vodka? Why it's the best drinks humans have invented of course!"
Both Glenar and Nikoi give Maltavro doubtful looks. "Trust me, this is really good stuff!" Now what do you have back there for snacks, Glen? Let's get some bowls and put some of that food out on the big tables."
He leans his mandolin down against the wall, humming another tune softly as he takes a bowl filled with chips and places in the middle, wondering how much longer it'd be before everyone else arrived.
