A wet towel slaps onto the table, and a hand begins to move it in a circular motion. Making sure to rub through any remaining spills, dust and morsels that were left on it from the night before. The cloth is as old and weathered as the table it is being made to clean; torn and discolored. One wouldn't be mistaken to think of these two objects as old and neighborly friends. But it is the hand that brings these two things together that catches the eye.
A skin like that of an olive; slender, long fingers with pristine pink nails. A man with courage would be delighted to see that no ring is worn on them. All for naught, however, because his bravery and efforts would be heartlessly rejected by the gentle smile of a flower that would never let herself be picked: Elia, the beautiful servant of the tavern.
Her long, braided hair holds the color of deep onyx, it gently sways along her every task and movement. She hums a tune of eastern origin, wanting to pass the time of her chores.
Chairs get placed back onto their rightful positions, while others get thrown out the back of the tavern for missing a leg or two; a stockpile of repairs that need to be done later.
She let's out a long sigh as she looks to a corner of the tavern, where a new sizeable hole has made its appearance. 'Reiner is going to make me fix it again...' She hated the thought, and so chose to forget to mention it when he came for the afternoon report, hoping he wouldn't notice.
She shook her head in annoyance, and her eyes turned for the broom. A step to the right and a slight creak, followed by a loud snap, is all it took for her foot to go through the wooden floor. 'Of course, the Mare has gone through much worse for its floors to fully buckle under pressure today, of all days.' She grinned to herself.
Oh but they did buckle. And make Elia fall they did. A heavy snap bought her a no-return ticket to a quick shortcut to the cellar. Making her way through the hollow foundation, she couldn't help but wonder if the Mare was calling her fat.
A few more snaps and impacts and eventually Elia finally made it to the cellar. Coated in dust, cobweb, and more splinters that could be bothered to be counted, she patted herself from the dust and made a slight curtsy to the man who was standing a short distance ahead of her.
"Good morning, Reiner."
Reiner, the owner of the tavern, was left speechless. Never had he seen such a jaw-dropping scene, even when he met the Queen in all her glory. His once shiny and lustrous bald head was now briddled with dust. Some of it must've gotten in his brain too, because he truly had no words and was left staring at her like he just froze to stone.
Fearing for her carreer, Elia decided it'd be best to get this mess over with before Reiner could snap out of his shock.
"I'll go get the carpenters-"
"Elia..." He cut her off. "We don't have the money for repairs."
Her bottom lip quivered slightly. "Then I'll go buy some planks and nails..."
Reiner shook his head slowly. Only the bare minimum could be afforded at this time, it seemed.
Holding back tears, Elia said: "T-Then I'll... I'll go get the chairs..."
It was going to be another long day.
----------
On a cobbled street of the city, a group of armed men were walking by when one of them noticed the distinct sound of loud crashing, concluding in a loud, bassy impact somewhere underground.
One of the men in the group, who was visibly younger than the rest of them, spoke out and pointed to a tavern, only to be told to ignore it. The rest of the group started teasing the man, as he was still new to town.
"That's the Queen's Mare. Also known as Queen's." One of the men told him.
"Okay, so?"
"You're really country bumkin after all, huh?" The man clapped his hands together as he got an idea. He pointed to the young man. "I got it! Bumkin is your nickname from now on."
The group started laughing and ended up agreeing with the man, leaving the younger one blushing red as he got stained with a name that would probably never wash away.
Time passed, and Elia's tears did too. But only after using up the broken chairs in the back, to turn them into makeshift planks, of course. The process of nailing them to the floor ended up being mercifully successfull - no new holes meant that it would last long enough until it needed another temporary fix.
The obvious mark left behind by the mixed wood types of the chairs actually didn't look too out of place, considering the whole tavern looked like it had no original piece of itself left. Not even the entrance door.
Elia lightly tapped the new boards with her foot, and deemed them strong enough. At least, enough to hold someone who would've probably noticed that they shouldn't be stepping there in the first place. Maybe.
Satisfied with her work, Elia turned around to look at a gloomy Reiner, who was laying his shiny head on the bar table and held his hands above in a groveling prayer. She could hear him murmur faintly for forgiveness from his Goddess.
Elia felt empathetic to her boss, as their circumstances were similar, in a way. She wanted to give him a small pep talk, but before she could even get a word out, Reiner suddenly looked up at her with tears streaking through his cheeks. "Never gamble any of your money, Elia. Please promise me that. Stay away from those pigs!"
Elia could hear the distinct sound of the entrance door creaking, and surely enough, Reiner's eyes darted behind her in response. She could tell who it was just from the light reflecting on his eyes.
As if calling the name of the Devil himself, a group of men walked into the tavern, all wearing the same patch insignia of a hog on their stomachs. They were looking for their daily due.