“Take care now! Haha! See you folks…tomorrow!” A fellow waitress so sweetly smiled as she waved the final departing patron a warm goodbye.

  The tavern was now empty besides staff; it was messy and in ruin, practically. And as soon as that entry door had shut closed…

  “…I hate new year so much…” a waitress let out an exhausted exhale of lament, her figure tumbling down to a chair nearby.

  “Ey, watch that blasphemy! It’s the Rise of Winter’s Reign, after all…”

  “Eh, what’s Winter going to do? Curse these lands’ crops more than Spring already has?”

  “And don’t you mean the advent of Winter’s Dreams?”

  “Beh… Winter’s Dreams, Winter’s Reign, same thing…”

  Indeed, everyone’s masks instantly fell off.

  Their boss, the tavernkeeper, let loose rather the yawn from behind his counter, causing a yawning cascade amongst the waitresses which trickled its way down to the foreigner herself, for she too proceeded to yawn in kind… Truly, what a most frustratingly contagious impulse.

  Having tidied up his end of the tavern, the tavernkeeper stepped out from his counter area. “Alrightly. I’m calling it.” he thus stated, putting on an evidently Far Western coat of sorts. His eyes then lanced their sight straight to the foreigner and another; “You two. Get this place ready for tomorrow. One extra silver will be added to your pay.” Orders given, the tavernkeeper made way for the door; “Anyway, I’m out. May Winter Reign.” Thus, with a simple wave, he departed with speed.

  The other waitresses around immediately sighed, relieved that they themselves had not been selected for this late-night cleanup. Chatting and letting lose all that irritation from this long day, they promptly headed for the staffroom and collected their things, before making way to depart as well.

  “See you all, good luck!”

  “I swear to Trinity in Heaven above, I will kick him in his manhood if that wedlock bastard touches me like that again, pfft!”

  “I know right! I mean, we’re maids, but we aren’t whores! Boss needs to actually…protect us and kick those gropers out, you know? Why do I even work for him… Pfft…seven measly silvers a week in this economy? Pfft…greedy tail-suckers aren’t tipping enough either, ugh…”

  “Honestly, being a peasant was easier… Never had to work that much, and at least I never had to worry about rent!”

  “Yeah… But at least you don’t have to worry about being raped to death by greenies, bandits, or entire armies…”

  “Eh… I’d rather die quickly in a village raid than endure a city siege… I mean, surely, we’ve all heard what happened to Graillight…”

  Such chatter bounced in the room around as the other tavern waitresses exited out one by one, until left were only a nightly silence and those two specific souls left behind.

  “Hugh… Let’s get this over with, then…” the obviously exhausted and overworked peer said, struggling to stand herself up.

  “You may…rest more… I can do most… It is fine” the foreigner said, more exhausted in mind than body; “You look as if the ehm…‘shit’…” she observed.

  “Oh, and I feel suchly as well…” her co-working peer so frankly replied; “But… Are you sure? At least let me…move the chairs…to where they need to be…” She finally stood herself up.

  The two began to tidy up the messy tavern, the foreigner wiping and cleaning away the tables and floor whilst her other reorganized the chairs…the tables…and any other misplaced thing, really.

  “So… How much did you get in tips today, masky?” her fellow waitress abruptly asked, making small-talk.

  “…uhm… I think…ten of the silvers and…forty of the bronzes?” the foreigner replied cordially, albeit the charming pleasantry was difficult to maintain, indeed.

  Even so, her fellow peer groaned; “Bronze…” she began to mutter aloud, “wow, I sure love it when they tip us worthless nothing, ugh! Lady-groping bastards… You can’t even buy grain with that anymore! You need proper silvers for everything!”

  “The only benefit is when they mistake the gold for the bronze” the foreigner remarked in apparent humor.

  Her fellow peer chuckled, humored; “Fertility’s great seed-bucket, that’s right alrightly… I just wish I’d be tipped a platinum by a drunken idiot… You know, I’m surprised they haven’t confused a silver for one yet—unfaithful morons, pfft…”

  “And, so then, what of you?” the foreigner inquired.

  “Bah… A coin pouch full of worthless nothing-coins from a bygone era, that’s what—well, besides six silvers…” the fellow peer thus replied; “Seriously, though… Not even a thousand bronzes are worth a single silver these days—and don’t get me be started with copper! The Temple of Commerce hasn’t even minted either in ages, but they keep tipping us with such!” she complained aloud; “I mean, it’s not as though we need to actually live, you know? Some doorknob even gave me an Imperial note—like, what the shit-bucket am I supposed to do with that here?!”

  “Maybe they are just wanting to… Hm… What is the word?” The foreigner needed to… “Oh, rightly… ‘court’ you—us, I mean…”

  “…bah…” Her fellow waitress seemed unconvinced; “How romantic, giving us shit-coins… Maybe they’re just trying to make us ladies desperate enough to marry them, then we ‘don’t have to work’… Besides caring for all the kids they’d want to plant us with…” She sighed; “…honestly, I’m certain that actual children would be easier to handle-manage than these drunken man-babies—less touchy too, or at least not touchy in that way…”

  This bantering went on and off as the two continued to prepare this tavern for…the day to come.

  -||-

  The door went springing open as the foreigner barged straight into her apartment in rather the dramatic display of genuine affect. Her face was empty and flat, yet her soul and essence was relieved. ? ?h dol?issima finalitas… ? her breaths blurted out; oh, sweetest finality. Truly, what a day it had been, indeed. Though, at least she was now denizen free.

  It was late-night, the world outside cloudy and thus the sky obscured in totality. Consequently, it was fairly dark in this apartment. Even so, she knew her way around this chamber by now…largely.

  Yawning for the nth time this day, she immediately headed for the bedroom, tossing—gently—her handbag off to the side as she hastily threw off her boots and stripped herself down, not even bothering with placing her clothing in that closet space. She hopped straight into that primitive bed, becoming thoroughly subsumed into it as if it were some horrific hazard of assimilation.

  Yet, once in bed, she realized… Oh, right, her mask was still on. She quickly took it off and placed it onto the side-table near. Though, in doing so, a strange…feeling pierced her being, one she could not comprehend even if still experienced; a sense of grave discomfort and missingness. Indeed, normally she and those like her…tended to feel awfully strange, weird, and generally not-so-great when being without a mask. Masks were their faces, after all.

  Nevertheless, her now exposed cyanic ignited eyes stared at the ceiling above, as if it too stared back at her… Truly, the utter absurdity of it all; that she would be reduced to be craving this…primitive bed in such a way; to want to actually…‘sleep’ and… She did not even know; none of it made sense, frankly.

  Certainly, this so-called ‘regular sleep schedule’ had affected her more than she cared to admit. Her entire being seemed to have adapted and changed around it; no longer were her tolerances and endurances the same as they had once been priorly, as so clearly demonstrated from this day.

  Indeed, in just a year, she had changed in so many ways…

  Yet, ultimately, you remain the same.

  Adaptive and plastic, far more than most; such was her mind and that of those like her. So quick to change, yet also…so quick to stagnate; so quick to adapt…yet also maladapt, or even regress.

  Unable to keep them open any longer, her ignited eyes gradually closed… Slumber’s obscurity quickly took hold.

  -|||-

  “MASK!!” a loud shout so hurled across the tavern as the foreigner so stumbled upon in, her clothing more hastily readied and her hair still…messy. “FORTY-FIVE MINUTES! GODS’ SACRED!” She had instantly frozen from the tavernkeeper’s accusative point.

  All the patrons stared in silence; her fellow waitresses, looking away, turned red in apparent secondhand embarrassment.

  Indeed… The foreigner had overslept, again… This time by quite the degree. Truth be told, she was not necessarily used to waking up on her own. She had perhaps relied too much on her former associate for such a thing…

  Nevertheless, donning such affects of shame and guilt, she sorrowfully approached that principal counter, standing behind which was her rather…infuriated superior, whose arms were crossed and whose foot was tapping. “…struggled with the sleep… I wake up late… I give sorry…” she lamentingly apologized.

  The tavernkeeper’s reddened face cooled as he calmed. “Yeah, no excuses this time, mask.” Though, he remained reprimandingly stern, indeed. “This has gone way too far! I can’t keep tolerating this from you!”

  “I always compensate for this by working the extra hours beyond the closing…” the foreigner…perhaps unnecessarily replied.

  “Yeah… I recognize your hardworkingness…” her boss, unprovoked, acknowledged; “So, I’ll give one more chance. The last one. Come in late again, even by a minute, and you. are. done. Got it? If you were anyone else, I would’ve you fired already…”

  “Thus, it is so, sir…” the foreigner just acknowledged, facing down.

  “Good. But I am cutting your pay.” Great… “You’re going to need to make it back up by working even harder and coming on time! Time is coin, and wasted time is wasted coin.” he asserted; “So, get to it.”

  With an acknowledging nod, the foreigner stepped off and headed for the staffroom. Entering, she promptly…shoved her handbag into a wooden cubicle, with the quite the unnecessary force… Strange feelings were within, yet remained obscured…

  Indeed, it was not as though she was ignorant of the consequences of her oversleeping, she just did not quite understand the…problem. She was not necessarily late in any meaningful sense, and she always made up for it… The foreigner sighed; it mattered little; utterly irrelevant.

  Time was an ocean in which she was utterly drowned.

  -||-

  This second day of the new year dragged on, becoming even more monotonous and laborious.

  Truly, never before had the foreigner witnessed this tavern facility be so…thoroughly occupied by these denizens, by these patrons…as if squeezing into every facet of space possible—hyperbolically.

  In fact, even earlier this day when she had been so…speeding to her job, the denizens in the city beyond had already been flocking around in droves as if creatures frolicking in their natural habitat, chanting and panting and banting—among a myriad of other such ‘-anting’ noises.

  Their laughing and cackling, noises of anger and joy and sorrow, both here and there, both now and then, all of it was truly…something…deep down within. Those sounds which pierced her ears made her feel dizzy; they made her head feel numb, blanking her mind as if her soul and very essence felt unreal.

  And such sounds and noise only worsened with time’s dragging pull. More patrons, more denizens, more intoxicated breaths spewing their suffocating stench, giving her quite the mindache.

  The world beyond this tavern was no better, either. As sun moved away from noon, the sounds of such celebrative delights and…festives and…parades penetrated the tavern’s walls, accompanied by the shouts and hooting-woots of cheers and happy shrieks, all of which combined to vibrate the very walls, or at least it felt nearly like such.

  By the time nightfall befell, even Far Western warships had joined the celebrations, firing blanks from their batteries. This tavern, being located well within the outer-walls, was not even remotely close to the coast, but the booms still shook everyone’s spines… Or, at least, it certainly shook hers.

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  Truly, her mind was not allowed any respite at all.

  “Hey! Mask lady! Haha!” a voice amidst the noise of other such voices beckoned her attention… A voice which stabbed her in the back, practically, for she was familiar with it, for better or…worse. “How’s that sweet ass of yours doing?”

  ? Magn?… ? the foreigner muttered, and turned about as she stared this specific patron down who continued to hail and wave… Great, this one.

  From first inspection, all this specific patron seemed to be was a visibly youngish, yet aged and rugged, man who was somewhat taller than her, although slightly shorter than the average man of these lands. His hair was rather long, yet was tied together in a way, appearing more like a knotted tail extending from the back of his head. Likewise, his hair was a sort of dark-blueish color—naturally so.

  Indeed, such was…one of the properties of this place: the sheer phenotypical diversity in hair and eye coloring was rather…noticeable. Although, none of such details truly surprised the foreigner, considering her principal presumption regarding this place in general.

  Nevertheless, this specific patron continued to relentlessly hail away and away. Thus, she begrudgingly approached. “Hello to you, fine sir!” she greeted upon arrival with a donned charm and smile.

  Foam was slobbered all over this patron’s specky face as he looked at her and burped straight in her own… The stench, goodness. Truly, she hated the smell of these so-called ‘beverages’ of cognitive impairment—so strange, it was, how any society could so fervently consume something that only hindered efficient functionality of their apparatus.

  Nevertheless…

  “It’s so great to see my favorite lady in all this dump of a fuckplace haha!” the intoxicated patron’s voice splurged; “Gods’ sacred toilet… You are hot! Haha! If only I could pay you for additional services, tehaha!”

  This patron seemed to be the sort who enjoyed ‘annoying’ her, either intentionally or by mere impulses; though, she was able to tolerate it—to her presumptions, at least. Indeed, she was hardly perturbed by this as much as…simply done-with-existence—there was apparently a difference.

  “Oh, how you flatter me so…” the foreigner thus replied cordially but with a pinch of irritated annoyance, mimicking how her peers typically tended to react when being…commented on; “So, you, what may I bring to you?”

  “Oh, you know… Beer, beer, bear, bear… Beer, fuck words! It’s a new year and a new season! Winter!! Winter’s Dreams! And we all made it this far in this fucked world! It’s time to celebrate—again, haha!” his mouth more vomited verbiage than spoke, his awfully baggy eyes leering closer; “Come on, you sure me and you can’t just…celebrate, you know, privately…”

  “I have to say no. I give the sorry.” she replied respectfully, though bluntly.

  “Trinity’s Son our King! Your voice!” his voice suddenly splurged aloud; “You know what, yeah… Yeah, there’s one more thing you can do for me, yes yes… Speak.”

  The foreigner…tilted her head, confused; “Speak?”

  “Yeah… Your fancy Far West tongue! Speak it for me, will you. I want to hear it…” he clarified, his voice…no longer seeming as intoxicated, as if having become more…coherent and organized.

  Indeed, such was an aspect of this specific patron that always made her feel…off in a strange way. His behavior, demeanor, and decorum would just…shift and morph, ever-so slightly but noticeably, especially his voice. The foreigner herself was exceptionally attuned to the tonal patterns in voices and body-language, considering…facial processing was not precisely her forte.

  “I’ll give you…five silvers… Yeah, five zilbers…” the patron, now more drunkenly, specified, before taking out his coin pouch. He proceeded to stumblingly withdraw four—not five—coins and a strange…shiny…trinket…thing that was evidently…not any recognized form of currency. Object recognition was not this intoxicated man’s forte, seemingly.

  Even so, the foreigner’s mask-obscured eyes focused, locking on to one specific coin out of the four… A gold coin, she saw… Indeed, he had withdrawn three silvers and a single gold… Color recognition must also not be his forte, seemingly.

  Silver, gold, and platinum… Those were three principal coins of universal exchange in these lands, named from the pure precious metals they were made from. Silver operated as the ‘base’ to which the others were ‘pegged’ and thus could be broken down into. One gold equaled one hundred silvers; ten thousand silvers or one hundred golds, thus, equaled one platinum. There used to be ‘lesser’ coins of copper and bronze into which silver itself could be broken down, however such had long become ‘valueless’.

  Frankly, all of these ‘monetary whatevers’ and ‘market buzzes’ were abstractions beyond her comprehension. All that the foreigner knew was that gold coins were ? bonoe nummoe ? and consequently wanted it.

  Thus, with a deep relaxing breath, she donned quite the smile; ? Jo spero quod tu méhi a’dandù é?tom di?kulom aureom planificants síe?, ?in alidre a? modo pyrocannam merdosam tuam ?e én?har?eas! ? she said with rather the pleasant charm.

  The patron cackled, humored quite; “Haha! Gods’ sacred! You’re so sexy and scary when you speak that tongue of yours!” He was satisfied; “Here, here… Take it, take it! You’ve earned it!” He handed her the…coins and that…coin-looking trinket thing.

  She quickly placed the coins into her belt-affixed coin pouch, and then…placed that…whatever-thing into her small satchel. Nevertheless, that one gold was enough to cover most of her rent for the next month; mistakes such as these were evidently a potent source of income for waitresses like her, indeed.

  “Anything else?” she respectfully inquired, rather pleased…some of it perhaps vaguely genuine.

  “…you know what, yeah! One more thing! Do it… Do it again! Haha! Say something else!” he requested.

  The foreigner sighed… Why did she bother to ask? Even so, any protests she might have had were swiftly suppressed when that patron took out yet another gold coin…

  Seriously? The same mistake? Again?

  ? Mirabile… Oi e? tu la glupissima d’ex omnés de las primitivas én la universa tota ?eù’t sa fa?hes hancora eo me?imos error, denizen ? she remarked in ‘awe’, changing her dialect of speech to one more informal.

  The patron cackled again, flicking the gold coin to her which she nabbed instantly. “Trinity, our Father in Heaven, you Far Western gals are the best… The absolute…best!” he remarked, promptly burping afterwards; “One more time, one more time… You know anymore tongues, uh?” He took out…an ordinary silver coin… Peh.

  She sighed; ? What is with the silver, smoothbrain? I want gold. Or you can at least finally mistake platinum for silver. ? she thus spoke, her language having fundamentally changed, her voice almost alien to what it was priorly, even if still…distinctly and uniquely hers.

  The patron was taken aback, seemingly. “Wow, wow! Gods’ sacred Trinitarian ass! Was that even the same lady! What language even was that?!” he remarked in apparent drunken awe, falling back against his chair.

  Something about his voice seemed forced.

  Nevertheless, ? Quaeda léngua quae’st tébi n?l de relevan?iad; jamja modo dá m? é?tonc bibel?tem ? she answered and promptly demanded; just give her the coin already. The patron, coincidently, flicked the coin to her immediately after.

  “Ah, that was good enough… I got my fix…” The patron, satisfied, stood himself up; “Well, you save yourself up now, I’m off…” With a wave, he thus departed off and away, his walk…rather sober for such an ostensibly intoxicated man. He stretched his arms and huffed; “Oh boy, guess it’s time to leave!” he randomly shouted.

  The foreigner…blankly stared as that patron departed, before looking down at her coin pouch; she placed the received silver into it. Hmm… A strange feeling entered within, indeed; one quite bizarre and incomprehensible. Perhaps she was…beginning to vaguely understand the…dopamine-flooding sensation denizens experienced from receiving such shiny trinkets of prescribed value, even if still being so very…absurd. Though, of course, to her there still remained that functional utility of such coins being necessary to pay her rent.

  Nevertheless, the foreigner began to return to her duties at hand, yet…only to pause and turn about once again, having so immediately noticed…

  A new commotion of sorts was now brewing at the center of the tavern. A crowd of denizens were gathering around a wooden table…or rather a couple or so tables which had been abruptly moved and smudged against each other.

  …ugh. ? Quid núc… ? she muttered… Now what? She approached closer and saw as a rather cognitively inhibited denizen so waddled his way up and onto the collection of tables, only barely standing still.

  “Here, here!” thus this drunker than drunk denizen exclaimed; “I say…on this, this new second day of this…new year granted to us by the Gods and Winter herself! That…that… The Empire will get what’s coming to them! Yeah! Pegasus will finally…finally join those pegasi it so worships: EXTINCTION! Long live the Kingdom of Rainbow! Long live our County of Coastfield! And long live the Coaliti—” Abruptly, this declaring denizen was pushed off the tables by another…equally cognitively inhibited denizen, who stumblingly climbed atop, waddling as he stood declaratively.

  “NO! FORSAKE THAT!” so declared he with a burp; “I say on this new year granted to us by Trinity in Heaven above, that-that…the Empire will finish what it started: total unification! Let me declare to you right now and here! We are one land! One people! One nation! One Emp—” He…simply tumbled down.

  With this denizen falling down, however, another took this opportunity to stumble himself atop the now vacant tables, waddling as he stood with assertive pride; this one seemed more…visibly endowed than the others.

  “NO!” so declared he; “DEMON-KING FUCK BOTH ‘EM! LET ‘IM FUCK THE EMPIRE AND FUCK THE COALITION! LET ‘IM SODOMIZE ‘EM ALL!” he exclaimed with drunken passion; “I say this upon this new year and upon this Winter’s day, granted to us by we ourselves, that…that we fuck ‘em all! We, the common men of these lands, we toil their fields, we put food on their plates, we built these lands with our two hands! Why… Why should those…those fat-lards in the feudality get to rule, huh? All they do is… is… Fuck their sisters and mothers! Why… Why aren’t we the ones in charge, huh?! W-what did the…the Far West call it again?”

  These words seemed to rile quite the stir within the gathered crowd. Though, frankly, so impaired their cognitive faculties were, it was doubtful they even knew what they were cheering on.

  “Oh, Gods’ sacred, not this again…” the tavern keeper so pinched the bridge of his nose… “The last thing I need is the Count’s men on my tail…” Too bogged down with patrons at his counter, his eyes lanced their sight straight to the stationary foreigner, glaring imperatively.

  Indeed, all of the other waitresses stood there and watched; despite their occupation, they struggled in asserting themselves and making demands to angry drunken men, an angry drunken educated agitator no less, being ‘serventile’ women. Most of the waitresses, thus, were far too timid and…socially hesitant to properly intervene.

  The foreigner herself, however, had no such frameworks and burdens of social expectations; consequently, in situations like these, she was often relied on as a more de-facto ‘enforcer’ of sorts, even if one laughed at and mocked.

  Thus, sighing, she began to approach, squeezing her way through denizen after denizen.

  “A ‘REPUBLIC’! THAT’S WHAT IT’S CALLED, YEAH!” the agitator finally exclaimed; “A folkwealth ruled by the common man, like you and me, not some fucker inbred into power! We don’t need no emperor, king, or count! I say, fuck ‘em all, let the Demon-King come back and let ‘im fuck ‘em all!”

  “Fine sir, may you stop? I ask for the grace…” the foreigner, now standing before the table, respectfully requested.

  “HUH?!” The drunken agitator towered over her, his eyes glaring down; “Ah… Look! Before my very eyes! What you are, huh? A masked Far Westerner come to silence me? What? Huh? Huh? Y-you annoyed by my words, now, little lady? Hmmm?” he…made his made noises, accusatively.

  “Second warning. I ask that you become the down.” she demanded again, her smile fading, voice stricter.

  “ ‘BECOME THE DOWN’…learn to speak, you alien!”

  “Yeah, let him speak! You let the Imp-lover over there speak, why not him?!”

  “You Far Westerners spread your shit all over our lands, this is all your fault anyway!”

  The crowd was becoming…riled up even more, seemingly, heckling and pecking.

  The agitator, seeing the crowd’s reaction, only became more emboldened, a smirk evident on his face. “You know, I heard that…in… What was it called…? ‘Royume’, yeah that place… I heard they, they wear them fancy masks for orgies… I-is that why you wear that whore’s mask, hmmm? Cause you love getting double-seeded by feudals so much? Or are you more of a Company slut? How much they paying you to keep the common man down, HMM?” he made more of his…noises.

  “Third warning. Get down now, or you will be forced.” she demanded, her voice now cold and threatening.

  “BUAHHAHAH!” Yet the drunken agitator merely cackled; “Oh, oh! A petite shorty like you, what are you gonna do, huh? Fine! Fine… Come and force me! Behahaha!” he made more of his noises, taunting; “W-what? D-did I hurt your little Far West lady feelings, hmm?”

  Many ladies around, even the ones once cheering him on, began to grimace at the agitator, her fellow waitresses most especially.

  “Oh, that’s it!” the tavernkeeper thus shouted; “Readings! Get the fuck down from there and get out! You’re souring Winter’s night!”

  “Bah!” the agitator scoffed, waddling even more; “Come and get me, coward! Instead of sending your personal imported seed-drinker! Is it so unholy to want a tricolor to fly over these lands?? Huh??”

  The foreigner sighed. ? Monitús ultimos jam expiratùr, denizen. ? Her voice was very cold.

  Immediately, she lunged forward and grabbed the agitator’s leg, twisting it as she yanked him off and down. However, in the process, she caused his head to bash right into the table’s edge, a cracking smack ricocheting in the air. The agitiator went completely mute, laying motionless, his head bleeding…quite.

  The foreigner…stared, realizing… She backed away… ? Merda… ? Shit.

  Everyone had turned silent, staring with sudden surprise and sobering shock.

  “Gods’ sacred…w-w-WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! YOU CRAZY ALIEN!”

  “S-s-someone go get a doctor—N-no! We need A LIFE MAGE NOW!”

  “GET THE GUARDS TOO! GODS’ SACRED TOILET!”

  Quickly, the crowd dispersed in a tumult as many frantically left the tavern. Other waitresses immediately arrived to tend to the bleeding man…as best they could, just as startled as the rest.

  Her boss so promptly arrived, harshly yanking her away from the scene. “WHAT IN ALL THE THOUSAND REALMS DID YOU JUST DO?!” his lambasting shout was carried with spit, his face a potent red.

  “You wanted me to get him down, no? I acted suchly.” the foreigner, cold, bluntly replied.

  “Yeah, mask! I wanted you to get him down and shut him up! Not YANK HIM DOWN AND CRACK HIS HEAD OPEN! Do you have ANY IDEA what Gods’ ordained maelstrom of SHIT will SHIT ALL OVER ME if he dies on MY property?! I’LL BE RUINED!” He groaned so loudly; “Gods’ sacred… You’ve always been a bit wacky in the head, it was…my fault for expecting you to do this properly… This even worse than when you broke the last troubleman’s arm like as stick, you know that?!”

  “You did not tell to me that I was not to use the force. So, I did what was necessary to—” she began to respond, yet…

  “Gods’ sacred, do I have to tell you every detail in order for you to understand COMMON SENSE?!” he interrupted, lambasting. His attention then shifted to the scene; “ALRIGHT! EVERYONE GET OUT! WE ARE CLOSING EARLY! CLEAR OUT, NOW!”

  The remaining patrons quickly cleared out to the world beyond, celebrating none wiser.

  The tavernkeeper approached the unconscious agitator as the lasts patron left.

  “He’s still…breathing, but they’re raspy and…bad…” a waitress remarked, still in shock. Indeed, a few of the other waitresses were tearing up, having been quite startled by this…suddenty, even if they had nothing pleasant to say about the man himself. It was entirely possible he might die, they believed.

  His eyes peered at all the staff around. “When the guards show up, we are going to tell them that this idiot was rousing Far West nonsense and fell off the table and smashed his head…and everyone was so out-of-their-hearts drunk that they thought someone had pushed him off… Is that understood?” Everyone collectively nodded in the affirmative.

  He then snapped his eyes to that standing and silent foreigner, her half-obscured face unaffected. “That’s my last favor to you, mask; that’s my last favor to her as well… You’ve done this tavern a good service, but now…just do me a favor and get out, and don’t bother coming back… This is it. I…can’t with your quirks anymore…” her boss so stated; “How someone can be both the best and worst staff is beyond me!”

  The foreigner merely nodded and backed away… “Understood…” Her affect flattened. With speed, she retreated to the staffroom and collected her bag. Exiting, she made way to depart… Yet she paused once she reached the main door, turning to her peers still where they were. “I give the apologies for this, and I hope that you are all…well” she apologized flatly, as she did a…somewhat gracious bow.

  “…yeah, you too, honey…”

  “…take care, mask…”

  “We don’t really blame you…”

  “…just leave before the guards come… What a mess…”

  So replied a few of her peers…

  And without any further words, the foreigner thus departed out into the cold world beyond.

  Ah… What a start to this new year, indeed, having been terminated from her one and only job…that she had been so provided

  Ah… Yet such comes to little surprise

  To those orchestrating few

  And their many observing eyes.