Chapter 23.1: Friends In Need

It took some time, but eventually Minkus rose from his seat outside the machine shop. Penny hadn’t come. Eddie hadn’t come. No one at all had come. He dusted himself off, rubbed away the remaining puffiness in his eyes, and slowly resumed his course down the Melandru High Road. He had to remember what he was here for: to find Penny and clear her name. Another outcome came to mind, but he shook it away.

Continuing around the bend at the end of the road, Minkus descended the ramp to the lower city and meandered into the northern end of the Western Commons. A small group of children dashed by, chasing closely on the heels of a running drake hound, who in turn was in fierce pursuit of a balled mass of leather and burlap hurtling through the air overhead. He watched as the dog grabbed the ball and took off around a corner, the four kids hot on its trail and rounding the very same building. For that brief moment it made him smile, but the expression left his lips as quickly as it had come.

He kept walking, more by dumb instinct than intelligible choice; where he was headed wasn’t even clear. Several blocks of homes and lesser storefronts passed by before he realized exactly where his feet were taking him. He saw the sign, that frothing ale horn beside a sizable leg of ham, and it made sudden sense: he'd come to the Horn and Hamhock.

As Minkus passed through the open front door, a gravelly voice boomed from just across the room. "Eh, who’s— Ho, Large!”

Minkus smiled, something flat but genuine.

“So good to see you, my very small friend,” Dag Hronsson said, coming at him with freshly cleaned flagons still in hand. At full height, he had to walk aligned with the rafters so as not to hit them. With one massive hand, he slapped Minkus on the shoulder, nearly wrapping him between forefinger and thumb. He stepped back again, eyeing Minkus curiously. “Bear and Raven, you look like the mountains have come down around you, lad. And what the blazes are you wearing?"

"Oh, right!” Minkus slid a hand down his own chest. It was an effort just to attend to what was real. “I— I guess I didn't need to wear this here, did I? It's— just some armor I got on our trip."

Hronsson laughed, shaking his head at Minkus. "’Just some armor?’ It must have been more of a journey than you’d bargained for. You came back a regular hunter.” He tugged at the chestpiece with a single, large finger and nodded further approval. “Looks good on you, lad.”

"Oh.” Minkus grinned, both proud and abashed. “Thank you. Um— how are your girls?”

"My girls?” The norn squinted at him from behind that bushy, peppered beard and eyebrows. “Spirits, Large, you haven't been gone that long. Still making themselves a legend among the lionguard I imagine. Hardly a father’s place to know everything about his children’s lives."

Minkus pressed a palm to his forehead. "Oh, yes. Norn family customs are so different.”

He stammered. At the moment it seemed chat eluded him. He was here to find Penny, as unlikely as that might be. This was, after all, only the second place he’d even thought to try. “Say,” he finally continued, “I’d guess it’s not likely, but have you— well, have you seen Penny?" Suddenly aware of it, he loosened his grip on his ear.

"You mean that drunken moot-spoil in the corner?” Dag asked, gesturing at a darkened figure in the shadows that danced at the edge of a hearth at the back of the pub. “She's been here since last night,” the old norn went on, “drinking like she's the bloody Dragonsbane himself. Something about no-good, two-timing so-and-sos.” He shook his head. “Bloody humans just need a good skull-bashing now and then if you ask me."

"You didn’t!” Minkus exclaimed.

"Didn’t wha–– Spirits, no, Large! I'd kill her. I mean they need a skull-bashing among themselves.” The massive man shook his head, but his eyes quickly wandered back to that hunched figure at the rear of the room. “Anyway, Arkayd was in no shape to leave last night and kept whining about having nowhere to go, so I gave her a mat in the storeroom. When she woke, she got right back to the drinking. Damn woman's strong for such a little thing.”

When the norn sighed, it sounded like stormwinds sweeping through a ravine. “I like her, Large. I do. Good customer, smart mouth. But this ain't no inn, and I can't have her carrying on like she did last night. I’ll get her out if necessary, but it might be better coming from you.”

Minkus sighed but also smiled, "Yes, I understand.”

Before turning back around to continue his work, Hronsson patted Minkus’ shoulder with enough force to send the asura lurching off toward his friend. He didn’t need the added push in that direction necessarily, not physically anyway, but as Minkus caught himself and continued on his own power, he found himself thankful for the literal push in the right direction.

Lowering his pack to the ground as he went, he approached alongside the table where Penny sat. In truth, she sat turned away from the table, her legs pressed awkwardly between her chest and the back of the chair. She seemed curled in on herself, despite the extended hand wrapped loosely around the neck of a bottle. It dangled precariously from her fingertips as she stared into the corner of the room.

“Penny?” he asked quietly.

Without even feigning steadiness, she turned to him. It took a moment of focus, but she recognized Minkus. “Oh gods. What are you doing here?” she groaned.

Minkus hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her as he moved across the room, but with just those few words, his gaze fell instinctively to his feet. He repeated efforts to look at her instead, but his eyes kept flicking away. “Well,” he said, “I came to check on you.”

“To check on me?” Penny laughed, swinging the bottle to point an unsteady finger at the asura. “Funny as ever, Bigs.” Still chuckling to herself, she hiccuped and raised the bottle to her mouth, continuing to talk as the liquor spilled in. “Nothing to check on here. I'm just great.”

“I see,” Minkus replied. His gaze was steadily on his friend now.

“Are we done then?” Penny asked, the mirth falling from her tone. “You're giving me a headache that— that just a flew more swigs— a flew more— should solve.”

“Um—” Minkus stammered. He sniffed the air and winced. Several layers beneath the stink of vomit and cleaning solvent was the scent of charr blood whiskey in the woman's bottle. “Is— whiskey a good idea for that?”

“Yup.” Penny quickly threw back another swallow.

“How much have you had?” Minkus asked, no longer masking his concern.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, contemplating something, very slowly. “Ever?” she asked him sardonically. “A shit-ton.”

He found himself frowning at her. It felt very strange. “No, not ever. Since you got here— yesterday.”

“Oh, since yesterday,” Penny nodded. Putting a finger to her lip, she thought, wobbling a little as she squared herself to her friend. She put a finger to Minkus’ chest. “Yes. Still a shit-ton.”

Minkus exchanged a glance with Hronsson over  his shoulder. Despite his continued work to shelve glasses and flagons, the massive barkeep was attentively listening to their conversation. He nodded back, affirming the woman's story; apparently she had drunk a shit-ton of alcohol within the last day.

Twiddling his fingers nervously, the asura took another step toward his friend. “Penny— maybe we should take you back to your shop.”

“Fat chance of that,” Penny mumbled with an incredulous glance. She shook the bottle slowly, watching its contents swirl inside. “Infested with rats.”

“Rats?”

“Yeah, rats.” The woman slammed the bottle back on the table, rocking a few of the empty containers still present. “Little critters— big, floppy ears—” she started gesturing her words with broad, graceless movements. “Floppy ears and smart mouths, full of pointy teeth. They— they think everyone else—everyone else—is stupid and everything is theirs to— to take.”

“I don't think that's a rat,” Minkus mused, scratching his head. It certainly didn't sound like one.

Both Penny’s arms slapped into place across her chest. Her shoulders rose and her face tightened in frustrated, drunken defiance. “Gods! Forget it, Minkus. I'm not leaving this seat.”

“Yes, you are,” boomed a voice behind Minkus. He hadn’t noticed the heavy footfalls moving across the squeaky, wooden floor behind him, but now he did. “The lad is right, Arkayd. It's time for you to pack up and go.”

“Shit, Dag,” Penny whined, tottering in her seat as she turned. “Don't tell me you’re turning sail— tail— turning sail on me too.”

In mere moments, she’d gone from stubborn independence to childish complaint. Minkus shook his head, sad and confused.

“Turning tail, is it?” the mountainous norn rasped through his thick beard. “Is that what you call holing up a drunk in my storeroom and wiping her wretch off my spare kegs?” He clenched a fist, and his whole arm flexed. It was easily the size of Minkus’ whole person. “You're a good customer, Arkayd. It's the only reason I've overlooked the bottles you’ve snatched today. It’s time to go.”

“I told you,” Penny groaned, rising to her feet as best she could. “I'm good for it.” It looked like she was squaring up to the barkeep now, her eyes meeting his, for the most part.

The norn did likewise, his huge shoulders shifting back as he rose to his full height. “Go with Large now,” he instructed, staring down his nose at the woman who barely came to his midsection. “I won't tell you again.”

For a few quiet moments, Minkus watched the two stare each other down: one very down, and the other very up. He knew Dag Hronsson, capable though he was, would never harm her. Even on Penny’s best day, he wouldn’t need to: there was no contest between these two under any circumstances. Still, that didn’t take away his unease.

Whether it was sense or laziness taking over, Penny finally waved the norn off and stepped back toward the table. “Fine,” she hissed, grabbing her coat in one hand and the remaining whiskey bottle in the other. “Go to Torment, then. I don't need this damn place.”

With that, she staggered toward the door.

Eyes wide, Minkus looked once more to Hronsson, whose face was visibly reddening. “I— I’m sorry, Dag. I’ll just— We’ll be—”

The norn nodded toward the wall beside the hearth. “She’s leaving that bag contraption of hers.”

“Thank you,” Minkus nodded. He could still feel his eyes overly widened in his head, but he scurried toward Penny’s bag and hoisted it off the ground. On Penny’s back it had always seemed oversized, but on his it was downright huge, bumping the backs of his knees as he tried to walk. It also smelled of liquor, sweat, and bile.

“Cleaned it best I could,” Hronsson said, noticing the sour expression on Minkus’ face as he scooted past.

The two exchanged nods of gratitude, and Minkus gripped his own bag in one hand as he headed out after his friend, who had already wandered out the open doorway and into the blazing sunlight outside. Minkus covered his eyes as he emerged, blinking a few times to adjust to the nearly noontime glow.

As his eyes focused, he found Penny once more, coat in arm and leaning against a stone wall across the street. Her head wobbled for a moment. She lurched, threw her coat aside, and vomited down the wall, the sound drawing the attention of several passersby. With derisive stares, they all watched the woman and the liquid flow that ran down along the mortar in the wall.

“What?” Penny grunted, eyeing the onlookers.

Minkus hopped to her side, looking around at the others apologetically. “I’m— we’ll clean— I’m sorry— we’ll just—”

“I’ll take care of it, Large,” Hronsson called from the doorway. He already held a bucket of water in one hand. “Just take her somewhere and sober her up.”

Minkus nodded again, even more grateful than the last time, and putting a gentle hand to his friend’s back, he encouraged her on down the road.

Together they walked northward through the Western Commons. The course of one wavered and wandered back and forth across the roads, while the course of the other constantly corrected, driving them both back toward the middle. With each shift of his weight to guide Penny along, Minkus returned to a greater mindfulness of his purpose. His friend was in immediate need of help, yes, but there was something bigger he was still attending to, and it came more and more to the forefront as they made their way toward the base of the Melandru High Road. Penny may have been drunk, very drunk, but Minkus couldn’t help but hurt for her, to recognize something of the pain that simmered just below the surface of the sassy, angered, drunken stupor she’d drowned herself in for the last day. He didn't know what it was, but he felt it from her, with her, and it seemed to resonate with his own. He extended his free hand once more, pressing it gently against her back to guide her step, and he felt the flow of magic.

The weight of the smartpack on his shoulders suddenly seemed to increase, and over several steps Minkus became more aware of his breathing. He looked at Penny and noticed some of the wobble in her steps diminishing. She was still clearly intoxicated, but she stood and walked just a fraction more upright and needed a touch less correction to stay straight. Quietly, Minkus smiled.

“What the hell was that?” Penny moaned.

“Feeling a little better?” Minkus asked hopefully.

“Gods no.” She put a hand to her forehead. “My head is pounding all of a sudden. I just need— just another swig of—”

“No!” Minkus yipped, swatting the bottle out of the woman’s hand before she could get it to her mouth. It slipped from her grip and shattered on the cobblestone, splashing the last few ounces of blood whiskey on the street. Minkus stopped, staring up at Penny with wide eyes and drooping ears.

“What in Torment—” Penny started, staring down at the shattered bottle. “That was the last—” She turned to look at him, her expression something between confusion, fury, and nausea.

“Gods, Minkus,” she finally said, still bewildered and still spring her words. “What are you even doing here? And where in Grenth’s green ass are we going?” She held her head a moment and then looked up around them, still wincing. “I already told you I can’t get into my shop!”

“Yes, rats.” Minkus nodded. “I think we'll be alright.”

Penny lowered herself to a squat, holding her head more tightly between her hands. “Gods,” she moaned. “It's not actual rats, Minkus. It’s a person. The new owner is keeping me out.”

“New owner?” Minkus questioned awkwardly. “Someone bought your shop?”

“It doesn't matter.”

Minkus squinted in thought. “So,” he slowly mused as the thoughts came together, “that's why you were at Hronsson's last night?”

“Yes,” Penny said, more in a whisper now. “And I was drunk off my Grenth-loving ass.” She eyed the broken bottle at her feet and then looked back at Minkus. “Which I would still be if it weren’t for— you— you— you magicked me, didn't you— did you magic me, Minkus?” Her expression alternated between seething and physical anguish.

Minkus shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe— a little. You're so sad and angry and— and drunk, and I wanted to help.”

She glared at him from under the hand at her temple.

“Alright,” he conceded, at last letting his own pack fall from his grip. His hand rose to his mouth in thought. “We can’t go to your shop. So, where should I take you?”

“Take me?” she demanded, rising up to her feet once more. She tottered as she took her first steps, but she waved him off just the same. “Just leave already. Get back to your mission with the always delightful Sergeant— orange— carrot— tree— bark-bottom. I told you I’m fi—” She vomited again, projecting more liquid directly onto the shattered whiskey bottle.

“Oh no, Penny.” Minkus took hold of her hand and patted her back as she sluggishly wiped the remains from her mouth. He shook his head, frowning at the odor, but held tight to his friend.

Then an idea came to him. As Penny was clearly absorbed in other matters, Minkus nodded to himself. “I have an idea where we can go.”