The Barkeep Called Cal

"...the barkeep MADE ME! Yes that's right! It's TRUE I tell you! The BAR! It CONTROLS the WORLD! I walked into my own home! MY OWN FRONT DOOR! He was there... Hooded... Glaring at me... He had GEMS AS EYES! I SWEAR! HE... He can do anything... Money. Wealth. IT cares for nothing. The ale is all hemlock. It's not human... Give up your child for a skill... Owe him a favor for gold... Pledge your soul for all the power you could want... THE DEMON BARKEEPER! HAND IN THE SHADOWS! TRADER OF SOULS! CALAMITY..."

Quoted from the mad traitorous ex-Noble Drewith Keatin before his execution.

***

The young thief's mind was in disarry. His previous hot blooded rush of the chase already turned to cold sweats.

'What is worse? Getting thrown in the Brig by the city guards? Or letting this psychotic bar keep do lord knows what!'

He could possibly lose his hand with the city guards. But what about the barkeep? His life? His future? This could be a slave ring for all he knew.

Doubt and worry wormed through him.

As his tongue fumbled to find the right words as the hooded barkeep continued to question him.

'Is he using a truth spell? Is he just messing with me? What's with his line of questioning?,' The thief thoughts scrambled for the answers.

What was the date? The FULL date. Which city was this? Who was the current king? What nations were warring?

He couldn't answer the last question or the ones following after. How was he supposed to know the current state of affairs? What the hell did that even mean?

Apparently the answer had not been that the prince likes to utilize the brothels. It did make the Barkeep laugh though. That must be a good sign? Laughter was good! Yes he was a funny man! Funny people shouldn't be killed or sold! They should be kept around for a while, right?

The hooded man held out his hand. The Young thief hesitantly grabbed a copper and flicked it towards the hand.

Then the questions got more personal. What was his name? Why did the terrifying knife throwing, poison supplying barkeep need to know that?

Startled between upsetting the Barkeep and having the Barkeep know his name, he quickly spoke," Martin! I mean you can call me Martin, my name is Martin."

It was better to have his name engraved on his tomb just in case...

The figure leaned back away from the counter seemingly satisfied with his interrogation. Giving slight hope to Martin until he heard him say, "You're a thief right?"

Here it was. A dividing line between him and most people. Martin was a criminal. A common cutpurse, but still a criminal.

The thief, still cautious, spoke hesitantly,"I...I well yea sometimes. Times are hard and sometimes you need to grab a coin pouch or two. S...Sir. "

His final stammered 'Sir' as an effort to gain a more positive opinion from the Barkeep.

Most do gooders frowned upon the crooks of the world, but that didn't mean fellow criminals were hospitable.

For the sake of territories and control many criminals were likely to attack each other.

Infact, the guards might take a hand or put you in the brig. Fellow criminals were much more likely to put you in a grave.

As luck would have it, Martin noticed that the hooded man did not have much reaction to his comment.

The Barkeep spoke, "Good, good. You might be just what I need!"

Even better for Martin, while most criminals were a danger to each other, their was a always a few that other sought out.

This was the masterminds, the fencers, and the smuggler's. Anything that helped out criminals, while not encroaching on each other's business.

While cutpurses could make some revenue in the less patrolled areas. These areas also had shallower pockets. The deeper pockets obviously walked where it more protected.

Having a discrete fence was vital for any thief. After all, you won't get rich by stealing valuables if you can't sell it.

You better not sell it yourself, unless you don't mind getting caught.

The Barkeep continued, "I think you know what I need, next time you need to stop by my bar use this. I'll be expecting you soon."

A quick white flash flew up into the air as the Barkeep flicked a coin over to Martin.

Confused about the meaning of the Barkeeper's words, but knowing a proper exit when he hears one. He quickly grabbed the coin mid-air, before heading to the door.

He was both excited and terrified.

Excited that he might be moving up in the world. Atleast in the world of thievery.

Also terrified as he saw and remembered the knife as he approached the door.

The Barkeep said his last piece as Martin walked out, "By the way you can call my Cal..."

*slam*

The door shut as he finished.

"amity," Calamity finished.

Martin, popped out into a different alley then he originally was in.

Curiously, he opened the door back up only to hear a shop owner cry out, "Boy you don't look like you're going to buy anything. I knew sticky fingers when I see them. You might as well leave before I call the guards!"

His brain spiraled in confusion as he made his way home. He curiously glanced at the odd coin the barkeeper gave him and noticed a slight white glint.

Definitely not a common currency. Even weirder was the exit was not the same as the entrance.

More determined than ever to appease the barkeep.

Martin muttered, "If he hides entrances with illusions, changes exits and entrances, and gives weird coins somehow brings you back it's best to assume he can find me if I don't bring him anything."

The Barkeep was clearly powerful. More powerful then the guards for sure. He knew what guards did when they were unhappy. He didn't want to find out what the Barkeep would do.

Martin continued to mutter as he made his way to his ruin down home in the slums, "He didn't say exactly what he wanted... He said I knew what he wanted."

Martin wracked his brains thinking over the encounter, "Well for a Bar he is definitely lacking booze. That's probably what Cal wants!"