The tavern door swung open wide, and Captain Garris strode in, bringing the chill of winter with him. Instead of brushing off the snow at the door, he stomped his boots free of it in the middle of the floor and then seated himself at the bar. The conversations happening at neighboring tables halted.
Berg continued washing his glasses in preparation for the dinner crowd and checking the levels on his various bottles of foreign liquor. Captain Garris waited patiently and then cleared his throat loudly, "Berg—might I have a word?"
Berg looked up, feigning surprise that he had missed Garris's grand entrance, and said, "Why, Captain Garris, so unexpected. I usually see you and your men on Helmsday when I'm serving Balthar stew. I seem to have gotten your recipe just right. Is that what this meeting is about? Am I using too much salt this time? Or is the beef not braised enough? I keep missing one important thing. I'm trying so hard to get it just right."
"It's not about the stew. You did forget the carrots last week. But it's not a bother. It's about your menu last night. You had some odd things on it."
Berg scratched his bald head, "Odd things? Most of your people think that what I serve is odd. None of you had had a crouton before... arriving here."
"The dessert. Very strange. It was cold and warm. Sweet, but also sour. One of my men said it was more than your usual strange fare."
"And that's a crime? A strange dessert? Not exactly worthy of a Captain's time. No one got sick, did they?" Berg's hands slowed down from cleaning the mugs.
"Well, that dessert coincides with your holiday—" he produced a small notebook and said, "The Day of Spirits."
"That's not a real holiday. Not according to the Pact of Conformity," his voice grew dark.
Captain Garris glared and said, "Of course it isn't, Berg. You of all people would never disrespect the Pact by serving a traditional dessert symbolizing life. You are too wise a man for that. Risking all of this for a dessert?"
Captain Garris leaned back a bit and continued, "But I mean, if you served it the day before or the day after, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Maybe if it was someone's birthday, perhaps."
Berg's eyes squinted, and he held back his fear and anger with short breaths and a tight grip on the mug.
Captain Garris got up and adjusted his coat. "Well, I knew this was nothing. See you next week."
"See you next week," Berg said.
"And I'm sure that the Balthar stew will taste just like home. Right, Berg?"
"Yes, Captain Garris," Berg said with clenched teeth. A small crack appeared in the mug under the weight of his grip.
The captain left, opening the door wide again, and Berg felt the chill of winter in his bones for the first time.
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