Requiem 1

Two knocks on a wooden table. “I call,” said Filch, grinning at his hand of cards. His victory was basically guaranteed. Opposite of him his fellow guard on the shift, Delgue, made a disgruntled face.

“Bloody hell, dude, if this continues, I am going to be eating at the cantina exclusively for the next month,” he announced as he threw his cards on the table. The losing hand landed right between a wooden mug of water and his helmet. Aside from that and his gauntlets, Delgue was wearing the complete steel plate of the city guard. The armour clunked as he moved to take an annoyed sip.

“Just be happy that you get free food in the first place,” Filch suggested with a giant grin, gathering the cards back up to shuffle and start another round. They were being hyperbolic anyway, they only played for a few copper each round. It was the only entertainment they could get while guarding the vault of Lubrin.

“You say that like people are starving in the street,” Delgue grumbled, running a hand through his short black hair. A look that Filch shared, including which armour pieces he had removed, although his own hair was brown. They also shared blue eyes. “This is a summer leaf,” he continued, “we have cattle and grain abundant.”

“Really makes you wonder how people on winter leaves get around,” Filch mumbled as he dealt the cards for both of them. He picked his own cards up and laughed loudly, almost knocking his mug of the table in the process. Managing to catch it at the edge of the table, where it remained for the rest of his giggle-fit, he answered Delgue’s questioning gaze by showing his hand.

It was a Royal Flush. The round was over at the very first draft. “Fuck me sideways,” Filch grumbled, shoving another copper over the table. “Soon, this extreme luck streak you have right now is going to run out and then you’ll be sorry for using it all up on stupid card games!”

“Yeah, I should probably go to the pub. The first girl I meet is practically going to beg to marry me,” Filch mused, turning his head to properly look at the mug while moving it back into a comfortable reach. Without thinking a lot about it, he took a large gulp, emptying the remainder of the mug. “Sadly, I can’t get away from here, so I am stuck with your superstitious, paranoid as-” he was interrupted by his own coughing, a scratching in the back of his throat causing him to almost spit the water out again.

“Look at you, you can’t even drink correctly,” Delgue mocked, “what girl would want you?” He was shown the middle finger in return, a gesture that perfectly conveyed the intent even without words. While Filch continued to get his coughing back under control, Delgue first shuffled the deck and then went to get both of them a new filling of water from the pump outside.

By the time he came back, Filch was down to the occasional clearing of his throat. “Water went the wrong way, I guess,” he grumbled.

“Happens to the best of us, buddy,” Delgue pat him on the back after placing the refilled mug in front of him. “Although you are definitely not in that group.”

“You’re a massive dick,” Filch pointed out.

“And you have won the last 25 rounds,” Delgue retorted. “I am allowed to be quite annoyed! Just be happy I am not letting you run yourself. Now, do you want to sweat to death in this blissful endless summer or continue playing games?”

“You just ask that because you think that was the sign for my luck running out,” the brown-haired guardsman responded. “Just see, the moment the shift ends, I’ll get called by the superior and be promoted to interrogator!”

“Dude, would you really call being promoted to that luck?” asked Delgue while sorting his pretty mediocre hand by numbers.

“Pay is better, plus you don’t have to run circles and deal with drunk adventurers every second day.”

“Yeah, and you get to hang out in the damp dungeons instead only to eventually get murdered by some crazy catgirl,” the luckless man continued and wished for a moment that he could justify drinking something as strong as whiskey on his shift. However, if anything happened to the vault under their watch, the owner would make sure they never worked a day on this leaf again. As a guardsman or anything else.

“I guess… bad thing that,” Filch mumbled, remembering the absolute chaos of that day. By the time the break-out had been discovered, they had already lost two more guardsmen to that Rogue. The guards around here were trained and used to dealing with beginner adventurers, particularly of the rowdy variety.

This girl, Reysha or whatever her name had been, had stolen a fair bit of equipment from their armoury before disappearing completely. Any attempts to find her for the past week had been completely in vain. By now, they had put a bounty on her head and let the more experienced and stronger members of the guard and adventurers take a crack at it. The order was dead or alive, no wonder after she murdered three people.

“Yeah,” Delgue agreed grimly. “Bloody idiot as well. Went into her cell.”

“Why would he do that?” Filch asked, that was the first time he heard of that. His colleague gave him a long stare and it clicked after a few moments. “Oh… oooooh… I guess that job is even more boring than ours, huh?”

“Something like that,” shrugging the two of them continued to play cards. Eventually, Filch coughed again. “Man, that is really sticking to you, huh?”

The formerly lucky guard rubbed his throat. “Yeah, feels like I am coming down with a cold or something. Guess I am heading to bed early today.”

“Not testing your luck in the pub after all?” Delgue teased in the tone of a friend.

“What luck?” Filch grumbled, assorting his absolutely terrible hand.

Luckily for both of them, their shift ended relatively soon thereafter. As the sun set towards the horizon, two other guards came along and took over. While mugs, helmets and gauntlets were all taken with their owners, the cards remained on the table. Nobody even knew who had brought them there in the first place, probably a guard that had been promoted out of shift duty by now, but as they were the only past time they all had, they hadn’t left that table in years.

The two of them walked over the cobblestone plaza and towards the barracks. Inside, they separated, going for their individual rooms. They weren’t much, just a bed, a table, a chest and an armour stand. It was good enough though, rent free and the stone walls were relatively thick. Not that it mattered, having people over was forbidden. These rooms were only for sleeping, writing and armour polishing. If a guard wanted to see a loved one, they had to go visit them, not the other way around. Officially, at least.

Filch coughed again. ‘I really did get a cold or something,’ he thought, feeling that characteristic little pressure at the back of his throat, likely a lump of mucus that was stuck. At least his nose wasn’t running. Yet, anyway.

As it was the end of the month, he would usually prepare a couple of letters now. He was a guard mostly for the pay, which he parted into three equal parts, keeping one to have fun and sending the other two away, one to the bank so he could save up for retirement, the other to his family at the outskirts of Heralry. They were just farmers, so they could use the extra money to make up for the workforce their oldest son could no longer provide.

However, the heat was getting to him and this lump was giving him slight troubles breathing, so he should be keeping those letters for tomorrow. It wasn’t an urgent matter anyway. As such, he took off his armour and laid down.