Have a Drink on Me (God-awful title)

A man is accused of drinking far too much ale and those asking for payment are not interested in excuses, even if he wasn't the one who drank it.

“Look. I told you, you have the wrong man.”

“Stop lying! I know you’re the one who owes us a hundred gold!”

“By the Fates, what could I owe you one hundred gold for?”

“You drank our tavern dry!”

Rolling his eyes, Roland ran a hand through his hair. Sighing, he shook his head. “If someone could drink your tavern dry for only a hundred gold, you men must have the cheapest ale in all the land.”

One of the armed men cracked his knuckles. “First you drink all our ale and then insult us? We should have your tongue for that! Maybe we can squeeze some of that ale back!”

Touching his forehead, Roland rubbed his brow. “Do I look drunk enough for this? And you,” he pointed to the last man who spoke, “do you even know how anatomy works?” He paused for a moment and blinked. “No... of course you don’t...” he said almost to himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?” the man yelled, drawing his sword from his waist. His comrades followed suit.

Roland looked to the man in front of the group. “Please tell me that you have more sense than these... men behind you?”

“These men say it was you that ran the bill and ran out on it,” the man said, stroking his beard. “Now, I’d be tempted to believe you, but...” he turned back to his men, “I have twenty other fellows here saying it was you. Now...” he looked back to Roland, “are you going to pay or not?”

Slumping his shoulders, Roland shook his head. “I really hoped you could be reasoned with. I’m not paying for something I didn’t do.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You seem like a nice fellow. But... appearances can be deceiving,” and in an instant, the bearded man drew his sword and lunged at Roland.

Cursing, Roland leapt away from the blade. The man laughed as he continued his charge. Leaping to the side, Roland threw back his cloak and grasped the hilt of his own short sword. It clanged against the bearded man’s.

Swearing an oath, Roland backed up. The bearded man swung again, forcing Roland to move out of the way. He stepped forward, swinging his own sword. The bearded man easily countered the shorter blade and shoved Roland back another step. Looking back, he cursed. The bearded man’s group was quickly trying to encircle the two fighters.

The bearded man began circling him. With a quick step, he slashed at Roland again. Muttering something, Roland countered, shoving the man’s blade aside before kicking him back. Turning to run, he found his way blocked by steel. Turning back to the bearded man, he barely saw the hilt of the sword as it struck him in the face.

Stumbling, Roland fell and reached a hand out to catch himself. The bearded man kicked him, striking him in the side. Roland let out a groan as he rolled towards the circle of men. Reaching out, he felt the dirt and rocks dig into his hand. Looking up at the bearded man as he approached, he grinned. “I doubt there’s a way we can resolve this peacefully?”

The circle of men around him laughed. “We gave you that shot! Now we’ll get the gold out of your hide!”

Roland blinked. “Can you really get that much out of my hide? I didn’t know there was a market for that.” Propping himself up, he looked to the bearded man. “Can you really get that much out of a hide?” His question was answered by a punch to the face. 

Blinking, he dropped his sword and grabbed his jaw, cracking it back in place. “By the Fates man, it was a simple question!” Looking up at the bearded man, he shook his head. He flared his arm out and pointed at the man before looking at the group around him. “Can you believe how rude this is?”

He was answered by a gasp from the bearded man. Looking back over at him, Roland cocked his head. The bearded man stared at him, grasping at the dagger plunged in his chest. “Well... I suppose I wasn’t quite that civil either...” Roland said, trying to rise to his feet. He was instead hoisted to them by two of the men in the circle.

The circle of men tightened around him as another soldier went to check on the bearded man. Roland licked the blood off of his lips and asked, “I don’t suppose we could talk about that peaceful way out now, can we?” The men simply stared at him. After a few moments he shook his head. “No? Well, you can’t blame a man for trying.”

One of the men slapped him, sending more blood flying. He then grabbed Roland’s face and spat in it. “You’ve killed our captain. Now we’ll do the same to you.” Backing up, the man held out a hand. Another soldier placed the bearded man’s sword in it. 

“To be fair, you all planned to kill me in the first place, right? And look! He’s still breathing! I didn’t kill him! Just possibly mortally wounded! You don’t think you could wait til he’s dead to try and kill me, do you?” The man raised the sword above his head as another pushed Roland’s down. “No? It’s a shame... I didn’t want him to know how out classed he was. He didn’t seem too bad a man.”

The man with the captain’s sword looked down at him. “No more talk. You will meet your precious Fates soon enough.” The man then brought the sword down.

The blade stopped. Looking up, Roland shook his head. The man stared, his mouth a gape, as the sword was stopped by a blade of blue lightning. Holding the blade, Roland removed was was left of the soldiers that were holding him from his cloak. Rising to his feet, Roland twisted his wrist, knocking the man’s blade from his hand. 

“You... You’re a mage? But... I thought they were all dead! The wars...” he began to back away from Roland before tripping over the body of his captain and began to fall backwards. Flailing his arms outwards, he barely caught the cloaks of his fellow soldiers.

Looking at him, Roland shook his head. “Reports of our death have been greatly exaggerated.” With a flick of his wrist, he threw the blade, impaling the man. His teeth chattered as the sword sunk into his chest, the electricity flowing through him. The blade began to sink farther into him as the electricity arced out into every man in the group. Soon, they were all sinking to the ground. 

Sighing, Roland leaned down and picked up his short sword.  Looking back at the men, he shook his head. “Bloody waste...” he muttered, wiping the dirt off of his blade before sheathing it. 

He heard a gasp. Turning, Roland saw another armed man staring at the bodies. “By the nine bloody hells!” Roland swore. He flicked his wrist, this time sending out another small bolt of lightning, hitting the man square in the chest, crumpling him. Grabbing his head, he looked at the sky. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Looking back down at the man he just killed, he saw a parchment roll out of his hands. Walking over to it, he leaned down and picked it up. On the envelope was Roland’s name. “Oh... this is not good...” And on the back was the seal of a high house.

Walking over to the bearded man, he stared at him. The man was pale and tried to scream. Roland squatted down next to him and patted his face. “This is all your bloody fault you know. If you had just left me alone...” He yanked the dagger out of the man’s chest and wiped the blade on the man’s tunic. “And the damned ale wasn’t even good!”

Author's Note

This was basically written as a dare and I liked where it started to go. So Now I'm going to stick with it and see where it goes. So... essentially this is a warning that this may indeed turn into the ravings of a mad man. This may turn into a book. But I don't know yet. Well, mainly what to call it.