Cinderella, Part One
"Wow," the young man said, slinging himself into a bar stool. "I refuse to believe that your life is that horrid." From amidst a small forest of bottles, the scraggly pile of matted hair shifted. The young man smiled amiably, adjusting the high collar of his green brocade tunic. A flicker of recognition sparked in the other's eyes- he was talking to a wizard. Only the King's finest division of laborers wore the deep, richly colored clothing of the magically endowed. "I'm Jordan."
"Matthias," the other croaked out.
"Excellent. Henderson," Jordan motioned for the barkeep. "I've got Matthias's tab. Speaking of which, can we both get some water?" The elderly man shuffled off and he turned his attention back to Matthias. "So, what's up?"
He blinked.
"No, no, you have to tell me. I've bought you your drinks, you've sold me your misery. What's driven you to the bottle, friend?"
Matthias straightened up and cleared his throat, fingers snagging on his tangled hair as he tried to brush it out of his eyes. "Y'see- Y'see-" he started, struggling to marshal his thoughts into words, "Y'see, Jordan, I'm in love. M'in love with the- with the best girl in the place, and I wanta marry 'er."
Jordan nodded encouragingly. "Yes, and?" He was being very patient for someone dealing with another person who so very obviously drunk, even going so far as to nod when appropriate and prompt him when he got lost. Matthias continued to stumble along.
"Well, I would marry her, only- only she's a nice proper lady and I'm- well, I'm a mess. She wouldn't want to marry me. I haven't talked to her proper-like since we were kids, and now she's educated and beaut'ful and rich and I'm just- m'just a washed up gutter rat." Jordan shook his head, denying any such nonsense. Not that he really knew, however, but he had taken it upon himself to be a comfort. Meanwhile, he began concocting a plot.
"Matthias," he started, "Where are you staying, exactly?"
"'Victed," he mumbled, taking a hard swig of his water. "Landlady found out I lost my job. Hence the drinking."
"Ah," replied Jordan. It all made sense now. He was formulating carefully in his mind, detailing his plan a little more, adding steps and smoothing ideas out as he went. He was fairly certain that theoretically, it might possibly work. Maybe. "So, Matthias. Tell you what- you don't have a place to stay. You're jobless. Personally, I need a valet; my last one recently quit. You seem like a decent gentleman and I can show you the ropes. The job's yours, complete with room and board, low-impact labor, good pay, holidays off and a vague and unspecific insurance plan. It's certainly better than nothing, though. What do you say?"
Matthias stared at him in something that could be interpreted as disbelief, though it may have been the alcohol bogging down his brain. "What'd'e leave for?"
"Pardon?"
"Why'd the old guy leave?" Matthias started again, this time trying a tactic that didn't slur together quite as much.
"Ah, well," said Jordan, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, "We weren't fond of each other, you see. With two people living and interacting in such close proximity it's ideal for them to get along, even if one is servant to the other." Matthias nodded numbly, though it did not necessarily mean that he fully understood.
"Okay, I'll take it." Jordan was ecstatic. This was going to be wonderful, he decided. And then it occurred to him that perhaps trying to gets someone to take a job while drunk was not necessarily clever. Or, you know, legally binding.
"Well, that's very well and good, Matthias, though perhaps you'd like to think it over in the morning? I understand that you're inebriated at the moment, and I'd hate to put you in a position you would regret later on. If you'd like, you can stay in Henry's old room tonight, since you were evicted." Matthias gave him a long, hard look. Even with his muddled senses he was leery of Jordan and his seemingly innocent generosity- his street smarts told him deals this good didn't just walk up to you in a bar.
Still, he was currently homeless with a bar tab that would eat up the last of his final paycheck and refusing the offer would be stupid. Then again, accepting it would be stupid too; it was a high risk decision and he was drunk. Therefore, it made sense that he would do what seemed like the best option, even if, in the back of his mind he knew it would almost certainly have repercussions. "Mkay- that sounds good."
Jordan brightened upon hearing the news. "Excellent! Fantastic. That's brilliant. Great. Henderson?" The barkeep glowered from his post and got up, making a big show of his arthritic joints as he clambered off the stool behind the bar.
"Sir?"
"I've got his bill," Jordan explained again, digging into pocket and pulling out his wallet. Despite looking well-worn in the corners, the leather still looked smooth and uncreased. He pulled out several notes and set them on the grimy bar. "Should cover it. I'll be seeing you later?" Henderson grudgingly picked up the money before nodding at Jordan, releasing him and his charge. Methodically, Matthias stood up, moving each limb one after another. Silently, Jordan was thankful that his shop was only a block away. Matthias wasn't very coordinated in his current state.
They made their slow, lethargic way through Market Street, empty this time of night excepting the more accommodating residents of Opolis. A few of the more gussied up women (and one man, though he looked considerably more sickly than the others) were making catcalls. Jordan picked up the pace, escorting Matthias into a shop on the corner. It was too dark to make anything out well, but he did note that there were several shiny objects. It was late, however, and when Matthias tried to ask about the nature of a crystal ball Jordan sent him upstairs before locking up the front door, giving him a hurried, "In the morning."
I know this isn't art, but it's the first of many. Be gentle, please, and for the love of God, please comment.
"Matthias," the other croaked out.
"Excellent. Henderson," Jordan motioned for the barkeep. "I've got Matthias's tab. Speaking of which, can we both get some water?" The elderly man shuffled off and he turned his attention back to Matthias. "So, what's up?"
He blinked.
"No, no, you have to tell me. I've bought you your drinks, you've sold me your misery. What's driven you to the bottle, friend?"
Matthias straightened up and cleared his throat, fingers snagging on his tangled hair as he tried to brush it out of his eyes. "Y'see- Y'see-" he started, struggling to marshal his thoughts into words, "Y'see, Jordan, I'm in love. M'in love with the- with the best girl in the place, and I wanta marry 'er."
Jordan nodded encouragingly. "Yes, and?" He was being very patient for someone dealing with another person who so very obviously drunk, even going so far as to nod when appropriate and prompt him when he got lost. Matthias continued to stumble along.
"Well, I would marry her, only- only she's a nice proper lady and I'm- well, I'm a mess. She wouldn't want to marry me. I haven't talked to her proper-like since we were kids, and now she's educated and beaut'ful and rich and I'm just- m'just a washed up gutter rat." Jordan shook his head, denying any such nonsense. Not that he really knew, however, but he had taken it upon himself to be a comfort. Meanwhile, he began concocting a plot.
"Matthias," he started, "Where are you staying, exactly?"
"'Victed," he mumbled, taking a hard swig of his water. "Landlady found out I lost my job. Hence the drinking."
"Ah," replied Jordan. It all made sense now. He was formulating carefully in his mind, detailing his plan a little more, adding steps and smoothing ideas out as he went. He was fairly certain that theoretically, it might possibly work. Maybe. "So, Matthias. Tell you what- you don't have a place to stay. You're jobless. Personally, I need a valet; my last one recently quit. You seem like a decent gentleman and I can show you the ropes. The job's yours, complete with room and board, low-impact labor, good pay, holidays off and a vague and unspecific insurance plan. It's certainly better than nothing, though. What do you say?"
Matthias stared at him in something that could be interpreted as disbelief, though it may have been the alcohol bogging down his brain. "What'd'e leave for?"
"Pardon?"
"Why'd the old guy leave?" Matthias started again, this time trying a tactic that didn't slur together quite as much.
"Ah, well," said Jordan, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, "We weren't fond of each other, you see. With two people living and interacting in such close proximity it's ideal for them to get along, even if one is servant to the other." Matthias nodded numbly, though it did not necessarily mean that he fully understood.
"Okay, I'll take it." Jordan was ecstatic. This was going to be wonderful, he decided. And then it occurred to him that perhaps trying to gets someone to take a job while drunk was not necessarily clever. Or, you know, legally binding.
"Well, that's very well and good, Matthias, though perhaps you'd like to think it over in the morning? I understand that you're inebriated at the moment, and I'd hate to put you in a position you would regret later on. If you'd like, you can stay in Henry's old room tonight, since you were evicted." Matthias gave him a long, hard look. Even with his muddled senses he was leery of Jordan and his seemingly innocent generosity- his street smarts told him deals this good didn't just walk up to you in a bar.
Still, he was currently homeless with a bar tab that would eat up the last of his final paycheck and refusing the offer would be stupid. Then again, accepting it would be stupid too; it was a high risk decision and he was drunk. Therefore, it made sense that he would do what seemed like the best option, even if, in the back of his mind he knew it would almost certainly have repercussions. "Mkay- that sounds good."
Jordan brightened upon hearing the news. "Excellent! Fantastic. That's brilliant. Great. Henderson?" The barkeep glowered from his post and got up, making a big show of his arthritic joints as he clambered off the stool behind the bar.
"Sir?"
"I've got his bill," Jordan explained again, digging into pocket and pulling out his wallet. Despite looking well-worn in the corners, the leather still looked smooth and uncreased. He pulled out several notes and set them on the grimy bar. "Should cover it. I'll be seeing you later?" Henderson grudgingly picked up the money before nodding at Jordan, releasing him and his charge. Methodically, Matthias stood up, moving each limb one after another. Silently, Jordan was thankful that his shop was only a block away. Matthias wasn't very coordinated in his current state.
They made their slow, lethargic way through Market Street, empty this time of night excepting the more accommodating residents of Opolis. A few of the more gussied up women (and one man, though he looked considerably more sickly than the others) were making catcalls. Jordan picked up the pace, escorting Matthias into a shop on the corner. It was too dark to make anything out well, but he did note that there were several shiny objects. It was late, however, and when Matthias tried to ask about the nature of a crystal ball Jordan sent him upstairs before locking up the front door, giving him a hurried, "In the morning."
I know this isn't art, but it's the first of many. Be gentle, please, and for the love of God, please comment.