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Chapter 1 - Juriah
The bar was too loud to think. The crowd was a fine mixture of supernatural creatures, horned beings mingling with humans, liquid pleasure flowing from every cup. Earthly alcohol had no effect on my companions or me as Elderlings, so the copious golden liquid that the barkeep continuously handed us in mugs would have to suffice.
Magic danced in the deliciously tart liquid. The stuff was packed with it just to get us tipsy. Beside me, Galanthia and Izdor raised their mugs, clapping them together, spilling precious droplets of fluid on their perfect skin, enhancing their sparkling auras by a thousand star beams. Our arrival had been arranged by Izdor who had smoothed our landing into this realm.
It was nothing like Estaria. And not for the lack of magic, but for the burst of hedonism. Every corner of the world poured liquor and some kind of opiate. Drawers overflowed with sumptuous fabrics, some of them so synthetic that they would catch fire at the slightest heat. Pleasure ran rampant to the extent that it occasionally caused death.
Izdor in particular was fascinated by human culture, talking about how earthlings participated in thehookupculture that dominated the dating scene. These were things that baffled me and simultaneously struck my interest, though I found them to be mere distractions when so many buildings here overflowed with tomes of knowledge.
All these new vices, all these delightful pleasures—well, they were something for a hero, not a failed soldier such as me.
Izdor shouldered me, causing me to fumble—but certainly not to drop—my mug of golden liquor. “Lighten up, Riah.”
“Yes, do as the earthlings do andlighten up,” Galanthia teased with a wink. Her pale green eyes glimmered and swam with satisfaction. She must have been feeling her drink. “We can hear you worrying about it.”
Each corner of my mouth dragged to the ground. “Now just a minute. I’ve told you my mental space is a private chapel that requires respect to—”
“To flagellate yourself?” Izdor scoffed. “Please, friend. Drink some more. Pick a woman. Or a man. Or acentaur. Nobody here cares about your past. I swear.”
Yet his assurances did nothing to drop my guard. What was merely months passed in this realm felt more like years. And years in Estaria were so different. Everything was different.Ihad been different.
Galanthia softened while ordering another drink. She handed it to me. The tips of her fingers drifted over my knuckles, transferring mild pings of relief to my heart. “We should travel. Don’t you want to see this place called Rome? They have such phenomenal buildings. And their history!”
Booming laughter resonated over the jaunty music, commanding a sea of silence in the surrounding area that burst with life and activity just seconds later. Galanthia had a way of demanding attention—in ways that deeply rivaled that of the locals. She was twice the height of the average woman, with a well-endowed chest and a slim-thick figure with enough muscle to put any famous wrestlers to bed.
She slapped me on the back extra hard, harder than anybody in this realm who wasn’t an Elderling could accomplish. “Their history is a mess. We can easily relate, can’t we, dear Juriah?”
I tried to lift my frown from the ground, but it was hard work putting on a face. However much I suffered internally, I didn’t want my friends to suffer due to mine. I nodded and tried to shake myself into a better mindset. “Yes, I suppose we can, Galanthia.”
Izdor had glowing gray eyes that brightened whenever someone of particular attractiveness came within viewing range. “We should visit Italy as well. Their art is phenomenal.”
“Amsterdam is generous, I hear,” Galanthia added. “I’m curious about this red-light district I keep hearing about.”
“Red light?” My eyebrows went skyward. “You mean like the stoplight system? Does that mean everything stops there?”
Izdor cackled. “No, my friend! It means you can find whatever you want whenever you want.”
“But isn’t that the common way of this realm?” A hum vibrated my throat as the statement produced meditative thought. Everything was already instantaneous. “What do you mean, friend?”
“It’s for different human pleasures,” he replied. “For things that aren’t necessarily legal to sell here.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, this tavern is different.Goat’s Headdoesn’t have the same governing laws about, say, pleasurable company as the rest of the United States.”
Some more staring. A blink every so often to let him know I was listening. This was fascinating stuff. I still hadn’t entirely grasped the ways of this realm, but the more I learned, the more things didn’t make sense. Like healthcare.
“The red-light district is more welcoming to pleasure being traded for goods,” Izdor proceeded. “There, you can find anything that tickles you.”
“But I don’t like being tickled.”
Galanthia shared my puzzled expression while Izdor sighed.
“I didn’t meanliterallytickled,” he corrected, though then he quickly added, “though I suppose theydoentertain people who like that sort of thing.”
“Whatever they do, I want to see it,” Galanthia said while slamming her mug on the counter. “And I’d like more gold, please!”
“Galanthia, it’s liquor,” Izdor explained, and as he proceeded with more details, I tuned in to my surroundings.
