Unfortunate Fortune

My vision swims as a fist slams into the side of my head. I stumble to the side.

"Time's up, kiddos," caws the gnarled voice of a thuggish man. "Who's this, your bodyguard? Hate to break it to you, but this one's weak as a bundle of sticks."

I look up. I find that I'm lying on the ground. As my vision snaps into focus, a large head moves into view. He has to be seven feet tall, broad as a mountain and just as thuggish as his voice sounds. He grabs me by the collar and lands a heavy punch to my nose. I hear a godawful crunch as something in my face breaks. I feel blood running down the inside of my throat.

"N-Now—! Run!" shouts Lyle from somewhere beyond my field of view. There is the sound of feet skittering away, and then I'm left alone.

"You... You just cost me my prize," glares the thuggish man. He reels his fist back and clobbers me again. His fist is spattered in my blood.

Those damn kids... They knew we were going to get stopped. They knew, and they thought they could get away while I took a beating.

"Your head... is the price," he grimaces. "Won't be too pretty, when I'm done with you. But it'll look just fine over the fire— once it's skinned and dried."

Shit, he's literally going to use my head as a mantelpiece. I know some fantasy worlds are barbaric, but this—?

He throws another punch, this time at my stomach. Then another to the side of my head, then one to the other side. He's grinning through it all, a dark, sadistic grin that pierces my soul. My mind grows foggy, bits and pieces of my body losing feeling altogether. My eyes swell shut.

"Alright, let's get that head off those pesky shoulders," the man cackles. He grabs me by the hair on my head. I feel a sharp object placed to my throat. This one is jagged, devoid of the precision the guard that first found me had held. But it hurts just the same, blood flowing now down my chest. I worry this is where my journey ends, already put to an abrupt halt in this unforgiving world.

I realize there's something in my back pocket. I hadn't noticed before. I slowly reach my left hand behind myself, careful not to draw his attention. I grab it, and immediately swing at him with all my might. This causes him to leap off of me. With painful effort, I manage to sit up and open my eyes. In my hand rests the ornate rusted dagger that Lyle had carried. I look up at the man, and realize he's clutching his neck. I slowly take a stand.

"An inch closer, and I'd be a stuck pig," the man glowers. He removes his hand to show a cut on the side of his neck.

"Same here," I mutter. "But I'm not ready to give up my head just yet. Not to an ugly bastard like yourself."

"Oh-ho, a cocky little one. There may not be any skull left over when I'm done with you."

"Maybe not. But like I said, I'm not gonna give up just like that." I pause. "Heh, those kids were right to leave me behind. God knows what you would've done to them had I not been here."

"I would've sold 'em to the highest bidder," he grinned. "Kids sell for a pretty penny, unlike you. Now die quickly so I can go get what's mine."

"Fat chance, asshat." I ready myself. In that moment, the one thing I'm thinking is: 'What the hell am I doing?! I've done nothing but get my ass kicked since junior high!' But I swallow this feeling, knowing my one chance for survival is to keep my cool.

He bursts forward with a speed one'd think would be impossible. I focus all my efforts on dodging, leaping back again and again as he comes in closer and closer with each slash. After the fifth missed slice, I step inward with a downward attack of my own, but he twists his own knife around and blocks it with ease. While I'm off-balance he lands a heavy slice to my chest and plants his boot over my abdomen, tossing me to the ground. The force causes me to retch, and more blood dribbles from my lips. I feel my chest. It's stained red.

Oh god... Oh god, that's a lot of blood. It hurts. It hurts so much. Who the hell was I kidding? All I'm good for is soaking up the hits. I'm a goddamn human punching bag, and the guy in front of me is a heavyweight champion— just waiting to punch a hole in me.

The world begins to pass in slow motion as he dives forward with his blade drawn.

So this is it, huh...?

He's grinning. Such a sadistic grin.

I can't die here. I won't.

My hands suddenly move seemingly of their own accord. I twirl the knife to the other end. As he approaches I slide it forward to exactly match his oncoming blade. The force causes the man to become off-balanced, and my body in his stead moves forward and lands a heavy slice to the man's chest, near identical to mine. He stumbles backwards. He touches his chest then looks down at his bloodied hand.

What...? I... blocked it...? And I don't know how, but the way I did— had to be exactly, step-for-step the same the man had done to me. And when I attacked... that was the same, as well. It's almost like I... I copied him just by watching his movements. But how did—

The thug lets out an angry bellow that carries through the whole alleyway. He runs forward. Whatever I did before isn't kicking in. So with all my might, I close my eyes and in a panic thrust the knife to the heavens. I'm caught off-guard when I'm met with resistance... Resistance that's quickly cut away by a bout of hot drizzling liquid running down my hands. The man stumbles. I open my eyes. He stands there mouth-agape. He coughs, and when he does a splash of blood leaves his mouth. His scary eyes roll up to the back of his head. Like a giant felled tree, he falls backwards to the ground with a crash... and is silent. I drop to the floor, exhausted and bleeding. I'm breathing heavily.

I decide to take a stand. Limping, I walk up to him. There's a coin purse at his side. I untie it from his belt.

"You know what, I'm gonna keep this," I huff. "What— *wheeze* What'd we learn here?"

I chuckle dryly, tiredly to myself. The notion of treating his corpse like I did the kids somehow is amusing to me at this moment. I leave his body where he fell. A gaping wound lies under his jawline that presumably goes straight up to his brain. I'm way too hurt to freak out about what I just did. I'm sure there's plenty of time for that later.

I wander that back alleyway for what must be an hour, trailing driblets of blood as I go. The alleyways are long, filthy, and devoid of anything pleasant. I curse to myself with every step I take. So I don't expect it when out of the corner of my eye the four kids come running up to me.

"C-Cyr—!" exclaims Lyle. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, and I'm pissed," I say. One eye has swollen completely shut without any hope of opening for a long time.

He stands there for a moment. His fists are clenched at his side. Suddenly a fat tear falls from his eye. The tear lands in a small pool of my blood. He starts shaking, and suddenly bursts forward. He wraps his arms around my waist and starts bawling. One after another, the others join in until I'm standing in the midst of four babbling, bawling children. Actually, only three. Strangely, Nora is the only one who's calm. Instead, she smiles. It clicks in my brain, and I can't help but smile as well. I place my hand on her head. She looks up and giggles. They all stop and look at her.

"Oh, right," I say. I've wiped the knife off as well as I could. I show it to Lyle.

"Huh—?" He quickly searches himself to find that it's no longer on him. He looks to Nora, who smiles and holds her fingers in a 'v'.

"Thanks, Nora," I say. "You saved my life."

She again grows timid and nods.

I hear the sound of an old groaning door being swung open. I turn.

"Children? Lyle?" Comes a voice from nearby. I look to the voice coming from a derelict old building not too far down. "Lyle? Nora? Lily? Raymond?"

"Cyr—! Come meet Sister!" exclaims Lily. She grabs my hand, seemingly unaffected by the sheer amount of blood left on me.

"Lyle? Nor—" The woman at the door stops upon seeing us. I'm caught off-guard when I see her. She's young, yet probably not much younger than me. She is of medium height, probably coming up to my collarbone. She has straight blond hair that falls down her back, and glowing violet eyes that look to me concernedly. She wears a plain white dress which she grips tightly with two slender hands. She's plain in most regards with no makeup to be seen, but that just might be the alluring aura she's giving off.

Lily chimes up. "We're back, Sist—"

"My word! What on earth has happened to you?" Sister exclaims, hurrying me forward. She grabs my arm and pulls me away from Lily, and quickly seats me on an old wooden chair. "Stay here, I will be right back."

I sit and look out as she rushes off. The building's interior is only slightly better than how it looks outside. The room has to be only fifteen feet wide and twenty feet deep. There is a small table in the middle with four different chairs surrounding it. I'm sitting in the fifth, which by far appears to be the most comfortable. Towards the end is a small kitchen with a wood-burning stove, and candles seem to be the only source of light. There are only two windows, both of which have tattered curtains and are otherwise open to the air. I look to my feet and notice the floor itself is made of dirt.

"I'm sorry for the wait," she says as she hobbles back. She carries a bowl of warm water and a white towel. "How did this happen to you? Is there anywhere else I can't see? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I-I'm, uh..." I was about to say I'm fine, but I'm pretty certain she knows that's a lie.

"Oh, no matter. Here, sit still while I clean your wounds," she says, dabbing the towel in the water. She first places it to my forehead, and a shot of sudden pain causes me to wince. She continues to dot my injuries with the towel, going back and forth between the bowl and me, the look of concern never leaving her face.

"You don't even know me, and you're doing all this for me?" I ask.

"You showed up injured at the door with my children unharmed. You protected them, did you not?"

"Err... yeah, something like that."

"Who—? Um, well... I would ask who did it, but I already have a pretty good idea," she mumbles. "That blasted man. He has been demanding money of us for almost a year. I wish he'd just... Just... Well, I don't know what I want. I want him to go away, I think."

"You—" I wince. "You won't have to worry about him. He's very dead now."

She pauses, the towel stuck in place an inch from me. "Did you—?"

"But do me a favor," I add. "All they need to know is he won't hurt them ever again. He—"

"Unfortunately... Death isn't an aspect of life my children are unfamiliar with," she says. She holds the cloth in her two hands. "Where we live... death resides in every home. It claims many."

"So your children... they—"

"Oh, but I should be clear they are not mine by blood," she chimes, her tone abruptly softening. "They are all children whose parents, well..." She trails off.

"Must be a lot of pressure to have on yourself."

"These children are my passion, my entire reason for existence. I couldn't bear to see it any other way." She finishes up my face and neck.

"Thanks," I say.

She looks down at me and gasps.

"Thank me after I've closed that enormous gash in your chest," she replies. "I should've done this first, but I didn't see it was so grave. I will have you lie down now, so please— carefully to your feet, now."

I grab the armrests of the wooden chair and carefully begin to hoist myself up. I slowly put pressure on my legs, then push myself up. Before I can do anything else, my vision abruptly cuts out and I crumple to the ground. Before I know it, I'm drifting off into a null state of consciousness.

When I wake up, I'm lying in bed. I don't recognize this bed, nor this room. The blankets are stiff and the cool evening air seeps in through an overhead window. I find I can hardly move as I first try to sit up. It feels like all my muscles are a quarter of their strength. But I manage to move my head down, regardless. The first thing I notice about myself is my body is bandaged around the chest, and my face hardly hurts anymore. I'm not swollen, as I can see clearly out of both my eyes. There's no longer a ringing in my ear, only the soft wisp of a cool breeze as it passes through the window.

"Woken up, I see?"

I look to the side. "O-Oh, yeah. I think."

The young woman stands in the doorway with a metal tray hugged to her chest. She tilts her head and laughs. "How can you only 'think' you are awake? You 'are' or you 'aren't,'" she smiles. "And you are, of course. Can I ask you your name? I am sorry, but I didn't get it earlier today."

"It's, uh... Cyr," I reply. "What's yours? I didn't get yours, either."

"Esmeralda. Just Esmeralda."

"Esmeralda, huh...?" I mentally pin the name to the image of her cute face. "S-Sorry. The only time I'd ever been alone in a room with a girl was in a dream," I say.

"Aren't popular with the ladies in your society then, Cyr?"

"That's a mild way of putting it."

"Then you may be in for a treat. In this city, in this world— treat a woman right and you just may have their heart forever."

"And what if the woman treats the man before he can to her?"

"Then perhaps the man would need to catch up," she smiles. "The wound on your chest has healed, but unfortunately you will be left with a scar. A specialized incantation could possibly remove that, but as of now I lack the skills required."

"Nah, I think I'll keep it," I reply. "To remind myself how much of a goddamn idiot I am."

"Well then... A feat should never go unrewarded. Such is the nature of this world," She smiles. Slowly, she leans down towards me, closing her eyes as she goes. She plants a soft, thoughtful kiss on my cheek. When she lifts up, the tingle it gave still lingers for just a moment. "Thank you for saving my children. And... for saving me, as well."

I don't know how to respond. I'm stuck replaying the moment over and over in my head. Sure, it was just a kiss to the cheek, but...

"I'm certain there will be many women who will fall in love with you along the road you walk. I've seen your kind before." She winks.

"Y-You sure about that?"

"Of course." Again, she smiles, lingering just a bit longer this time. She looks to me peacefully without saying anything for the longest while. A tear falls from her cheek. Another falls, and then another, and finally she breaks down. She lowers her head onto the bedsheets beside me and cries.

"I was so scared," she weeps, her words interlaced with sharp breaths. "I was so scared, I was so s—"

I'm even more at a loss for words, so all I can do is hold her while she lets out her fear, her worry, the pain she was forced to bottle up for so long. I eventually get her to calm down.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I..." she says, wiping her cheeks. "It's just that... That man, he... He threatened me... So many times, saying he would... do things to me if I didn't cooperate."

My heart sinks just a little. I'm not sure what to say for the longest time.

"It's over now, though," I mutter finally.

She nods. She stands up with more words of thanks and leaves the room not long after, stranding me in silence until I finally fall asleep.

"Please have this as a token of my thanks," says Esmeralda, standing at the door beside the four children. It's the next day, early in the morning.

She reaches around her neck, then brings her hands forward and lays something in my palm. Looking at it, I see a tiny-chained gold necklace with a small medallion about the size of my thumb nail. On it is a single red gem laid in the center.

"E-Esmeralda, I can't take this," I say.

"Call it a good luck charm. I'm counting on you to do good, yes?" she smiles.

"—A-And wait—!" Lyle exclaims, rushing forward. He practically shoves something into my hand. It's the dagger he carried yesterday.

"Lyle? I can't take this, either," I mutter.

"G-Give it back when you come see us again!" he says. "There! Now you have to come back!"

I can't help but smile. "W-Well alright. And... you're sure you won't take this?" I ask, holding up the bag of money.

"No, that is far too much for us. You deserve it," she grins. "If I recall, you were worse off than even we are."

"Can't argue with that logic. I'm flat broke," I mutter. I hook the coin purse back to my side. I've withheld five strange-looking coins, though. I pass one darker-looking coin to each child, Lyle, Pug, Lily, Nora, and give the final one, a gold piece, to Esmeralda. "I honestly don't know how much that's worth, but I hope it'll help a little."

"It's plenty. Thank you, Cyr," she says.

"Thank you, Cyr!" bursts Lily.

"Come back and visit!" exclaims Pug.

"I'll grow big and strong by the time you come back though!" says Lyle.

"...D-Do your best—!" Nora chimes.

"I'll be back with a whole chest of gold. Just you wait," I say.

I give a final wave before setting off. Even if I don't get back soon, they'll still be well off. After all, I secretly left half the bag's worth of money on her countertop.

The alleyway roads beyond are long and winding. Dead ends and loops consistently halt my progress. Along the way, I stumble across the corpse of the man who threatened Esmeralda and the kids. I see the knife that wounded me laying off to the side, noting its utter shoddiness. Looking at the knife Lyle leant me, I wonder how such a piece of shit knife even hurt me. And then there's the matter of the body itself, of course. It's not like people haven't passed by it, so I guess this isn't all too much of a shock to anyone. What's more off is how unaffected I am in seeing him— how I was the one who made him that way. But I decide it best to remain how it is for now. I killed a bad man, one who was inches from violating the first person that ever really gave a damn about me. For that, I'm glad I did it. So for now, let sleeping dogs lay— or in this case, let dead bastards rot.

I still don't know anything about this world. The coins in my pocket are meaningless to me as they are, and there are etchings everywhere in what I can only assume to be some sort of alternate written word. On top of that, I'm finding new races all over the place. What I've observed is that there are the rabbit people, lizard people, winged people, hairy people— though I guess that one exists in my world as well. I don't know the names of any of the races, so I'm just going by what I see. The rabbit people are presumably only girls with the ears of a rabbit. The lizard people are... just about what the name implies, and the winged people are more like humanoid birds than anything else. There's also a bunch of humanoid things I can't begin to describe. Then there's the humans, the elves, the dwarves— stuff you'd find in a typical fantasy game. So far I've refrained from trying to speak with any of them in fear I might accidentally trigger some sort of flag for political correctness. I was especially worried about that kind of stuff back in my world.

I turn a corner and eventually make it back to the main streets. The caravans pass by just the same as yesterday. The people wander just the same, the shop vendors shout out just the same— nothing's changed. Which is good, I guess. After all, it's only been a day.

"Fifty Jeul?! Yesterday we agreed two hundred!" Shouts a heavy voice. I turn to look at the source of action.

"Do not raise your tone to me, or do you forget who I am?" The second voice comes from a scrawny man in fancy robe, while the other is dressed in rags. I recognize the first as the driver for the caravan that the girl in the shawl rode with. And surprisingly enough, there she is not too far away. "I am a man of my word, and I said fifty. Now take what I give you with gratefulness— unless you would like to take it up with my guards, here."

The two armored guards stand on either side of the creepy rich guy. They both have different sets of armor I notice, which is quite odd. I then realize they must be mercenaries. This gives me an idea.

The large man in rags glowers. "Next time, I will not sell to you unless—"

"Hey, long time no see," I say, abruptly cutting into the conversation.

The girl looks to me.

"...Oh, it's the caravan staller," grumbles the ragged man. "Butt out, I'm not in the greatest of m—"

"You two're mercenaries, right?" I say, turning to the armored ones. "Steel for hire, that kinda thing? How much'd he pay you?"

"A hundred Jeul," says one.

"Each?" I ask.

"To split," the other replies.

"Well I'm not sure how much I've got in here, but—" I turn to the nobleman and show him the fat sack of quite possibly stolen money. "I'd suggest you pay the people what they promised, unless you want me to buy their loyalty away from you. Then who's to say what'd happen to a frail man like yourself so accustomed to the easy life?"

The noble hesitates. "—M-My men are loyal to me and me alone. Guards—! Teach this rascal a—"

"I'll pay you each three hundred to beat this noble within an inch of his life," I say.

"N-Now hold on a minute—!"

"Changed your mind, old man?" I smirk.

"...Err, I... Ma-a-a-y-b-e was a little off on what I owe this fine gentleman here," the noble retracts. "I'll... give you what you ask, Mr. Dineur."

"So that's your name?" I ask the ragged man, turning to him. He may be ragged, but he's jacked as hell. I'd probably die if I picked a fight with him.

"Benny Dineur," the ragged man replies in a low, gruff voice. Seriously, he's intimidating in almost every regard.

I turn back to the guards and hand them each something that looks like a silver coin. "—For the trouble," I say. Their eyes light up behind the armor, which makes me suspect I may be overpaying. "Just make sure this clown doesn't try any more scams on your watch."

They nod, and the noble begrudgingly beckons them back into the building they stood outside.

I suddenly feel a pair of eyes burning holes in the back of my neck. I turn around to find that the shawled girl is still staring at me. When our eyes meet she quickly averts her gaze.

A large hand claps me over the back. Benny Dineur stands towering over me with a smile that even still makes him look terrifying.

"You're not half bad. Sorry of what I said before, kid. You saved me back there," he says.

"I'm assuming this place has laws that favors the rich, right? Well those rules suck," I reply. "I felt I should play on them, just for the hell of it."

"I can't argue with you there. I've had to work with this bastard since I can't get anyone else to buy our shipments lately."

"Really? What do you sell?" I ask. Normally I wouldn't really care, but having triumphed in this is filling me with a kinda sense of euphoria, and I guess it's making me more social.

"Bamboo core, at the moment," he replies. "People don't buy it because it grows all around. They don't believe ours is any better. But I'm telling you now— ours is the best in the country."

"I have a bamboo grove back in my old home... O-Oh, but who doesn't, y'know?" I stall. "Never eaten it before. I kinda just... let it grow."

"Can't really explain the taste— I guess you'll just have to try it for yourself. It's real tough, and that's what turns people off it. But a real man fights through it to find its true flavor."

"Father—" the girl interjects. Benny turns to her.

"Yes, Vivian?" he asks.

She leans towards him and begins to whisper. He nods once, twice, then suddenly bursts out laughing. This surprises the girl, who steps backward and turns shyly away from us.

"Oh yeah, I haven't introduced you yet," says Benny Dineur. "Though, I suppose you two've met once before. This is Vivian, my daughter."

The girl gives a quick nod before again shunning away.

"—Anyways, since you helped me and all, why don't I buy you a drink? An old buddy of mine runs the tavern down the road," he offers.

"I could go for a beer," I shrug.

"Beer? What, pansy-water? Nah, nah— What you need is a pint of real mead." The way he says it is meant to feel honest enough, but his voice makes it sound like he's forcing it on me. "My buddy makes it out behind the tavern. And you haven't lived 'til you've tried it. It'll knock your socks off, that's for sure."

"W-Well... if you insist," I mutter. "Hey, how much does a pint usually cost here?"

"Eh? Err... No more than a couple of Jeul, last I checked," he says, scratching the top of his head. "Why you askin'? I already said I'd pay."

"No reason," I reply. "Just curious."

But there is a reason. I need something that can act as a baseline for this form of currency. Since I can't read their letters, be it a single Jeul or five hundred Jeul, I can't tell the difference.

"By the way, kid— why do you have so much coin on you?" Benny asks. "Unless those're mostly half-pieces, that could snag you a whole plot of farmland."

Now he's bringing half-pieces into the mix? The hell's a half-piece?

"Well, in any regard," he continues. "You'd better keep that outta sight. Otherwise I can't guarantee you'll last much longer with it at your side."

"Are thieves all that common?" I ask.

He laughs. "You kiddin'? This dump's one of the biggest Snatcher den second to the Capital City. You not from around here or something?"

"Far away— really, really far away," I say.

"Hey, then maybe I'll give you a tour," he winks. "Ahh screw it, let's go get drunk. Vivian an' I'll be heading back tomorrow, anyhow."

"Lead the way," I motion.

A fist comes sailing out from the open doorway, pelting Benny Dineur flat in the nose. Benny stumbles backwards, but seems otherwise unfazed even though the air around us has abruptly grown thin. Well... he's not hurt, but the grin he had on moments before is gone and replaced with a look that could kill. A shadow looms before us, and I have to crane my neck to even see the top of it.

"Unless you're paying back the debt you owe me, I don't want to see your ugly mug anywhere near here ever again!" hollers a second gargantuan man. This one stands a foot taller than even Benny's towering figure, nearly scraping the ceiling of the rugged tavern. He's completely bald with a jaw that juts out maybe three inches. He wears simple cloth pants and an apron that's obviously too small for him.

"Well shit, Gin! Maybe that day was today! Don't go socking bastards 'til you know they ain't got Jeul!" Benny retorts, getting up in the colossal man's face... or at least as close as he can with his height disadvantage.

"Whut'chu say?" glowered the man apparently named Gin. "Don't tell me how to run my business, lil Ben."

"Um..." I mutter. "This is your... 'buddy,' I take it...?"

"That's the one alright," Benny retorts without averting menacing gaze with Gin.

"Alright, how about I pay you to skip the rivalry," I mutter. I take out a coin and hope it's enough. The two look at it for a moment, and Gin snatches it up. He shoves it in his massive side pocket and moves out of the way, grumbling to himself.

Apparently money makes this world go 'round as well.

The interior of the tavern has parallels with most of the poorer sectors I've seen so far of this city. It's old, run-down, with barrels in place of barstools and a couple repurposed doors in place of a countertop. Behind the bar is this really pretty blonde elf girl, (come to find out, I have yet to see a young woman here I don't find attractive) who holds two metal pint glasses in either hand. She looks up and suddenly drops all four mugs flat on the counter, sprinting around the bar and rushing towards us. Only, she ignores me entirely and instead runs face-first into Vivian, wrapping her in a heavy hug that lifts her straight off the ground.

"Vivi-i-i!!!" The elf girl exclaims, seeming to squeeze the poor girl harder and harder with each passing second.

"L-Let go of me..." Vivian wheezes.

She sets her down. Vivian annoyedly fixes her shawl.

"Elise," grumbles Gin. He's about to say something more to her, but decides against it and instead continues to gripe to himself.

Elise, the girl elf, smirks and plants a quick kiss on Vivian's cheek.

"Father is paying for this one's drink," says Vivian, pointing at me with a loose hand. "That is why we are here."

"Ohh? It's not to see meee?" Elise teases. She turns to me. "Fine, Fine. Take a seat, but Vivi gets the special one, okay?"

"The... 'special one'...?" I ask.

"The only seat that still retains its cushion," Vivian answers. "And I'll accept."

I sit, and a huge hand slams a mug of foamy alcohol in front of me.

"Oy, Gin—" Benny waves. "This one here, name's Cyr, he's never tried yer famous mead. Why don't you crack open a new one?"

"Costs extra," Gin says.

"I'd pay," I reply. "How much?"

Gin scratches the top of his head with a thick stubby finger. "Err... Since it's your first— gimme... three Jeul."

"Sure. Um... Which is that, again?" I fish my hand into the wallet and pull out a coin. Gin stares at it for a moment before shaking his massive head.

"Nope, if it ain't a coin I've ever seen, it ain't worth nothin to me," he replies.

"What do you mean?" I take a better look at the one I hold in my hand. It's old and slightly tarnished on the edges and in the thinner crevices. It seems to depict an angel with spread wings on one side, with the other a serpent coiled around an empty helmet. It's not one I've ever seen, either. I place it back in my pocket and fish out another few coins. Gin picks out the proper cost and I set the rest back in their place.

"Drinks on this guy, apparently," Benny hoots, comically slapping his knee.

"Careful, son," says Gin. "This stuff ain't for lightweights."

Those words are the last thing I remember of this night.