02: When drunkards dance

The sunlight beat against Amaris's eyes so hard it was impossible to continue to sleep. She got up off the hard wooden bed that she had slept on, knowing that if she kept on sleeping Montego Wedge, the innkeeper at The Bitter Head Inn, would make her life even worse than the nightmare she had just woken up from. She had been trying to serve a client, a werewolf, in his room in the inn when he had pulled a knife on her. He had taunted her, making her feel smaller than her 6ft tall vampire stature would allow before finally slashing her across the neck.

Shaking herself awake, Amaris quickly got dressed in her only set of garments. A simple cotton smock, patched and mended so that only the cuffs showed the original colour of the garment, a dark navy, a matching pair of patchwork pockets with a cotton waistband and a linen apron, so stained it looked as if it was made from pure filth. I so wish that I could afford better clothes, she thought. Slipping on her only pair of leather shoes, Amaris tiptoed out of the cupboard she called her home, down the stairs and into the empty bar. Making sure she hadn't woken up any of the overnight guests at the inn, she grabbed a rag and started her daily chores.

"Morning Amaris." Montego walked into the room with his favourite wench, Taria.

"Good morning Montego, good morning Taria," Amaris said, being careful to have a hint of enthusiasm, even if it was forced.

"Oh look," Taria said, mock delight brightening up her tone. "The wench knows her manners!"

We're two of a kind, Amaris thought, biting her tongue. When you get over your ego and your insistence on being called a prostitute, then we can talk about my manners. Not that thinking like that is going to get me anywhere, mind you.

"Clean up the vomit in room three, and make sure they have fed the chickens," Taria demanded, giving Amaris a scolding look, as if she had been thinking too loud.

"Yes, your highness," Amaris gave a mock bow, which pleased Taria and infuriated Montego.

"Amaris, it would do you well for you to remember your place in the social hierarchy, especially as a vampire. When you have done your chores and additional jobs, you are to clean the distillery on your own," Montego said, danger edging into his voice.

"Yes, sir," Amaris replied, bowing her head and going about her chores. She knew better than to antagonise Montego further, having been the recipient of a disproportionate amount of beatings disguised as punishment to know otherwise. She did not know why Montego seemed to have a special mount of hatred for her. Perhaps the peddler who had sold so many other vampires and had undoubtedly sold her into the life of serving the ruling class.

Hours later, Amaris reemerged into the front room of the bar, absolutely exhausted. She grew even more tired when, to her dismay, she saw a bar full of patrons and guests with only one other barmaid on duty. I'm going to have to clean all those rooms now, aren't I? She thought, swapping the dirty, alcohol drenched rag for one of the few clean ones.

"Amaris, clean all the rooms upstairs!" Montego shouted. "And start with the Prostitutes rooms! I don't want any of my prized prostitutes working in squalor!" He sounded as if he was tipsy, having had too much of the homebrew.

Yup, I thought so, Amaris thought. She knew that when Montego was drunk he was especially violent, especially towards anyone who didn't obey his orders. That was, except for Taria, who Amaris had a sneaking suspicion could only serve him. After all, why else did she never get into line whenever a guest called for a prostitute, and why else was she never punished for any wrongdoing?

Picking up her mop and bucket, she set off upstairs. Room after room she cleaned, mopped, swapped the sheets and emptied the chamber pots of the prostitutes, the higher class working girls that were not sold into servitude before they can remember. Oh, how Amaris wanted to be one of them, able to earn an income without having to pay anyone for her own slavery. A werewolf, not having to rely on others to survive and free to be any person she wanted to be. Not bound to a master, free to roam the world and go wherever she wanted.

Having finished all of her chores and all the cleaning of all the rooms, Amaris felt as if she was about to break she was so exhausted. Summoning all the strength she had left, she made her way downstairs to the front room of the Inn. She knew how exhausted she was, but she also knew that if she did not turn up downstairs, Montego, who had an exceptionally violent temper for a werewolf, would take it out on her, potentially killing her. She entered the front room, going up to Montego.

"What do you want?" Montego slurred, evidently having enjoyed an inhuman amount of homebrew while still being able to stand.

"I came to inform you that all the rooms are cleaned, especially the prostitute rooms," Amaris tried to keep her tone even. Her tiredness was threatening to overcome her, but rest would have to come later.

"Very good. Go serve patrons," Amaris wanted nothing more than to be busy just to not have to face a bored and or angry Montano, even if her body was screaming at her to give up. As she stepped behind the bar, the door opened, revealing yet another patron she would have to serve.