There is no escape from the inevitable hangover. For all of the advances we have, a handy hangover potion is not one of them. The best you can do is drink a tonic and pray it works. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have a tonic. Neither the will nor the money to buy one.

Only a sick mind could design alcohol. How come you must suffer so much for a glimpse of happiness?

But the priority now is to maintain myself conscious. I have had many hangovers before, but this is the stuff of legends. The first thing I feel is absolute and immediate pain. A pain so profound and evil that it makes me regret last night even more.

I somehow found my bed and fell asleep as soon as I fell on the mattress. Last night is but a fleeing memory, especially since my eyes aren’t up to the challenge of keeping themselves open for more than three seconds straight.

The sheets are heavy and pain runs wild in my head. The morning sunshine creeps lazily into our room through the half open windows; heavy drums play mercilessly, somewhere far away…

For some time, only my breaths and occasional threat are the sounds that populate the room. Eventually, a crisp odor reaches my room; fried meat and fresh bread, the basis of any nutritious meal. My lungs start to work double to try and make my brain forget the pain.

In time, and with tremendous force of will, I gaze upon our room. Some of the furniture is not naturally placed, mainly because they are either on the floor, destroyed or both. The drake is also unnaturally sleeping on the floor, very still. It could almost pass for an unfortunately death, if I was inclined to do so, of course.

I miserably make my way to the bathroom, where the water tries, once and again to help my headache. It helps, somewhat. There is no rest for the ill, after all.

My legs fail me before leaving the room. I manage to catch myself before I break my arms, cursing to the high heavens. The magus doesn’t react, which may concern some. The apparent lack of a certain elf may also raise some suspicion, but my mind pays those thoughts nothing but a single second.

With furious zeal the stairs on the way to the ground area are no match for me. The other patrons shoot glances at me, with a diverse range of emotions. Disgust, curiosity, contempt, amusement and even concern, once. I didn’t bother to look into the mirror, and I still wear last nights garments, that the gods only know what stains they hold.

The smell takes me to the dinning room, a big and spacious area, fit with numerous places to enjoy the meal. I stumble and sit, doing my best at maintaining myself and not falling over, like some kind of drug addict. I use then purely as a medicine, you see.

A man, presumably an employee, comes over and asks my choice of breakfast.

“Meat of the hunt and blood of your enemies. Oh, also bring the sweet, sweet nectar…”

“C-certainly, sir...”

He scurries away, surely intimidated by my dramatic reenactment. This is precisely the moment where you start to lose it. Time and space become concepts no longer applicable to your being, as you seem to fly away into an abyss of darkness and terror…

Of course, its but a passing failure of your brain functions. The sudden appearance if a platter of meat accompanied by freshly made bread and some honey makes me reach back to reality. He also brings some spiced wine, of which I am plenty grateful. I devour my breakfast, even if it remains firmly at my throat for a while.

I ask the young man for an elixir; he informs me that they sell for a gold. My bloodshot eyes looking deep into his face seem to make him flee. A gold? What a robbery! I have seen dragons with less greed…

My body is already accustomed to heavy usage of substances, and my stomach is no exception. Yes, puking is an essential part of any good drunk, but the ability to maintain and absorb the liquids make some men enjoy life more, and, in some cases, discover a brand-new way of introspection once all is over.

What I mean by all of this, is that what I need right now is some fresh air, a good walk to the city this early in the morning.

I stumble out of the front doors and the now late morning sun blinds me. A city at motion greets me after I readjust my sight. Hardworking, honest men going on about their business. Probably.

The air is fresh and clean, and the star has decided to bless us with just enough heat to enjoy the outside. A good day to go on a walk. I start to wander aimlessly, hoping to find something interesting on the way.

It is always a curious sight to compare the morning and the night. That feeling of shame and eternal repentance, swearing to never again drink a drop of the stuff, only to be repeated soon, sooner or even before the day is over. I stopped saying that long ago, knowing that it was fruitless.

A smell catches my attention once again, this time a sweet and familiar scent carrying promises of joy through the air. I am seamlessly attracted towards a little pub, selling hot cocoa and sweets. My stomach rumbles, ignoring the generous breakfast that he received not long ago.

The place is fresh and very pleasant to be in. The smell comes from the kitchen, separated by a counter and a big drake woman. In said counter, a number of pastries are presented behind a glass counter, which, if you look closely and intensely enough, one can see the preservation runes carved on the crystal.

The pastries have different forms and colors depending on their origin or the type of cream they have. In the end, I buy a couple of cream pastries for a very affordable price and a big cup of cocoa.

Carefully balancing the cup and pastries I sit down in one corner and enjoy my sweets. The stuff is good, it brings me back to better times. There is a certain warmth on eating everything your mother told you it was wrong and sinful. Then again, when she got herself into the kitchen, she did make excellent confectionery.

While glancing around after the pastries are firmly sitting on my belly, I see something that makes me stop and my heart miss a beat. There, in another corner, a woman is seated, reading some sort of parchment. Young, clear skin and deep green eyes.

But what’s more surprising is the girl seating beside her. A child, greedily eating a puff pastry dripping with honey. Her green eyes glitter as drops of the honey run down her chin; a happy child.

The woman looks up from the parchment and reprimands her for not eating properly, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the child’s mouth. Her voice is the same…

If you think about it coldly, there is no reason why a prostitute should not have a daughter. They are also people, like us. They can also go out and enjoy some sweets with their family. Understandable.

But this doesn’t soothe me. Doubts and curiosity, all appear along with the beating of the heart. There is still some room for doubt. You never know when a curious coincidence might happen.

I find myself gaping while intensely looking at the pair. Before someone with a keen eye decides to confront me and call me a creep, I try to regain my composure and look busy. But the woman draws me in. I can’t help but shoot glances, unable to stop. What will happen if -when- she finally catches me?

Thankfully, they got up and left the place soon after. I followed. Slowly, at a distance. They key is to appear busy and confident. They turn some side street, and then disappear right into an alley. I start to jog briskly, trying to keep the pace.

What am I doing? Am I really following a woman and a child in plain day? They keep on walking, oblivious to the dangerous psychopath just some steps away.

My breath accelerates. I stop blinking and sweat gets into my eyes. The only thing that exists now are the women and the street. This is a hunt and they are my prey. Like I hunted back home, you must follow the scent of the animal and strike at the right time.

They turn once again into a secondary street. Its empty and narrow, perfect for the kill. Only a few steps more and ill reach heaven…

From the depths of hell, a terrible noise, a screeching sound, fit for the darkest of monsters runs wild in the alley. They both look at me, the child startled and the woman warily. I almost jump back, but looking down I see my message crystal glowing. I turn around and exit the alley hurriedly, taking the crystal out.

“Get your ass back here now, Major. We need to talk.” A familiar and disgustingly darkish voice speaks.

“You fucking faggot.” I mutter while my prey escapes. I don’t look back, but their steps disappear quickly.

I press the rune and start a message of my own.

“Listen here you beast, next time you wait until I’m back! You fat liz- “

I’m interrupted as a scaly hand appears on my shoulder. My words die in my throat as I look at the face of a drake, directly grinning at me.

Before I get the chance to speak, he punches me right in the gut. I fall to my knees as he takes me up with surprising strength and holds me to the wall. He stares intensely as I finish fishing for air.

“Listen, you deadbeat creep.” He says in an unusually stern tone. “I know you are a good for nothing and a drunk. But this?” He points to the now empty street. “My friend, I have seen men with that look before. You are better than this. Get it together.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I was just walking.”

“Oh yes? That’s rich. What were you thinking?”

“I- “He’s right. What was I thinking? I didn’t know what I would do when I got ahold of her. Dark premonitions and terrible thoughts appear like arrows in my gut. He lets me go, and I slowly sink to the ground, with the dirt and grim.

“She is lucky I was around here looking for you. They told me you left some time ago.” He looks at me, his eyes going up and down, taking in everything that he sees.

And what does he see? A man brought to his knees. An addict. The lowliest scum.

“I know. I’m a fucking criminal and should be locked up.” Tears start rolling down my face, distorting the world and letting all my worries out.

“Something possessed me, I would never- “

From this point onwards, everything that comes out of my mouth is incomprehensible noises, an ugly mix of crying and sobbing; a truly sad and pathetic sight, to see a man reduced to gibberish.

I ignore how much time passed there, on that corner of the city. He didn’t say anything for a while, although I am not sure of the reason. He could have been letting me cry my heart out to make me feel better, or he could be losing his grip on reality. With this drake, you never know.

Eventually I stopped making a scene and he urged me to follow. He had brought the boy with the cart from last night. I barely remember that we had such a thing, but I was assured so.

“In all these years, I have never seen you like this. Maybe you should stop drinking for some time. “He says, while taking out a bottle and taking a big sip. “I am no healer, but something like emotional breakdowns tend to be common. It happens to me sometimes.”

“This was not mere drunkenness.” I said, unconvinced. “It was borderline criminal. I fear what could have happened. “

“But it didn’t, so let it be.” He responded, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“I wasn’t even drunk! I haven’t taken anything since yesterday.”

He looks at me while sipping from his bottle.

“Probably.”

“Mere side effects. You should know it by now.”

After that, silence. It was already midday and the streets where filled with activity. The city tends to reach its daytime highpoint now. They eat copious amounts of unhealthy food and sleep for a couple hours, simple preparations for the night. Then, when the vice calls, back to the fray.

It is still too early for food, so the ambient is heavy; those that can escape their jobs do, and leave with others to drink in preparation for the meal. Good traditions for a healthy lifestyle. Or so they say. Either way, very fitting for the city.

“I have work today.” The drake breaks the silence. “An old pal of mine works around here, and its in order to visit. Old business, you see. Honor between alchemists.” He says, with a slight tint of irony on that last part.

“You can come if you want.”

“No, if my memory doesn’t fail, tomorrow the fool wizard presents the damn thing we came to see.”

“Whatever you say, but you need some rest.” He gets very close to me. “Real rest. Ill buy a tonic and you’ll go to sleep until night, when you and I will go to a quiet bar and drink a couple of drinks. Then tomorrow you will be rested and ready for the day.”

“Are you my mother?”

“I’m your brother, you pig. Nobody would believe you were a soldier. Where’s the discipline?”

“Sold along my sword. That’s what happens when you have a shit wall between your ass and forty thousand brutes that want to lick your bones clean.”

“Yes yes, the famous siege. Very brave.”

“And this is the reason drakes never won the war, because you don’t have the respect needed to maintain a healthy society.”

“Look at you, war hero, taking about winning wars. You are here for a reason, no?” He smirks. My weakness, indeed. A foolish debate, always end up losing.

“That’s what I thought.” Sometime later he starts again. “Do you know anything about the elf?”

My memories fail me. “After last night, no.”

“Why do we have an elf following us, anyway?” He seems genuinely interested.

“We found him in an inn. You introduced us, actually.”

He looks blankly at me and then to the sky.

“Well, I remember nothing. I have vague recollections since we left.” It seems the drugs have already eaten half his brain. I can’t say if it’s a good or bad thing.

“He has been bankrolling our little adventure.” I say while closing my eyes. The pain comes back. “If you don’t want to start using tricks again, find him.”

“I have better things to do. Perhaps tomorrow.” He sighs. “I am ready as ever to scam as many inns as needed.”

“Dirty criminal, you.” I respond, very comfortable on the cart’s seats.

He laughs and hits me, playfully I hope, in the arm. After all, even with years and many, many stories together, we are still friends. He doesn’t seem like it at first, and also at second and third, but he has a good heart, deep, deep inside him.

In the end, we go back to the inn as he accompanies me to our room and leaves as quickly as he came, promising to send a tonic soon.

Alone you can think clearer and reflect on your mistakes. I find my smokes, blissfully forgotten this morning. Quickly realizing the craving, soon enough I am sitting and smoking one.

Ahh, the smoke running wild in my insides, my throat burning as I exhale. This is nothing but a cruel punishment for not having the will to resist.

My thoughts turn to the pair soon. Shame and regret cloud my mind as I keep reliving the fatal mistake. It is unbearable, and I search for some of the dust, enough to forget. Once acquired, snorting is but a simple matter, a mere ritual to enter the realm of the gods…

---

Fire and death. A thousand men, holed up in an old and decrepit church turned fortress. Sent to die to a faraway hell to try and save some face. The kingdom was losing the war and defeat was all but certain, but the king, in all of his infinite wisdom and national rage, decided to sent young men to their deaths.

That is not what they told us, of course. A chance to fight in a far away colony? Lots of gold, booze and escaping the kingdom was just what I wanted. Only when, weeks later, I had half my body submerged in a river and was praying constantly for the monsters to choose the others men balls to eat before mine, I started to think about the colossal mistake I made.

The faces of my dead comrades watch me, they judge silently every time I drink, I eat, I think. My dead commander, who fell to sickness rather than by glorious combat. The rage of the captain, ready to cut my head for treason. Whatever happened to all who survived?

--

A door closing wakes me. A native trying to behead me? I must raise the alarm! I prepare to run when I remember where I am. Relaxed, I sit back and focus on the present. Many years later, that still siege haunts me. But I am alive, and that is what counts.

A new tray stands along the wreck that is the room. A vial, with an undetermined liquid rest besides a jug and crystal glasses. Uncorking the vial fills my nostrils with a terrible smell, that almost makes me puke. Its easily recognizable. A tonic which will get rid of your hangover… if the stars align. But we take it anyway, to give us peace of mind, if anything.

I drink the ungodly potion, suppressing the nausea and cursing all the living gods and their mothers. Nothing but seconds pass before my lunch starts to rise, giving my feet just enough time to get to the bathroom and puke my intestines out.

When I return to the room, I pour myself some of the drink, which disappointingly was water. At least its quite cold, probably an enchanted jug, made to maintain ice. I drink two cups and pour the third all over my head.

One of the few consensuses ever reached between the races concluded that puking is a valid way of ending alcohol in your body. It makes you feel better. It really does. Unfortunately, you can’t do the same for the drugs. Oh well.

It seems that I have lost track of the time. The sun is going down, although the lights are not lit yet. The drake hasn’t returned, and my capacity to remain here is greatly damaged, so I decide to go down and wait while the mage finishes his suspicious business.

The server forms the morning looks afraid as I approach. He tries, very badly, to hide his fear and nervousness behind a fragile façade. I just want to know where tomorrows presentation will be. After informing me that it will be held in a private building in so and so street, I commence to sip slowly on some kind of fruity drink while smoking.

More relaxed and calmed, time passes as the sun falls and the lights come alive once more. Soon after, the magus returns, seemingly sober, but with a stench. He smells like alchemy, strong fumes and disgusting odors.

“Holy hell! What is that terrible smell? Did you fall in some ditch?” I ask, watching as the rest of the patrons flee this disgusting drake.

“The effects of high-level alchemy, my drunk friend. But now it’s time to enjoy the night once more. Come now!”

And so, we do. I feel strongly about not dying of a headache tomorrow, so we lay down for the night. He takes me to a little place, decent but cheap. It has that feeling, of decay and stagnation. The kind of place you go to since you are a boy until you die.

The rest of the night is spent drinking on a corner, speaking about his alchemist friend (who, in the end, I still don’t know the gender) and watching the drake snort copious amounts of dust. Of course, the night was only completed when one guy, no too tall, skinny, with a funny moustache, started to flirt with one of the servers, which happened to be the owner’s daughter and, consequently, threatened the guy with a knife three times the size of his head.

Then, in a display of superior strategy, the guy smashed a bottle on the owner’s head and all hell broke loose. Chairs went flying, punches where exchanged and mobiliary was destroyed with no second doubt.

I managed to restrain Resabio and drag him outside, until some fool bumped into us and judged us sufficiently dangerous to strike with a knife. The mage, high out his ass, decided that the most sensible approach was to defend himself. As such, he regurgitated and shoot fire from his insides. Yes, he breathes fire once in a while. This time, not only did he burn that guy, but everybody on a 5-meter radius, along with the building.

Thankfully, we ran before the guard arrived. With some luck, no one important saw us destroy a building. The again, its not the first time he has done this. But that’s a story for another day. Tomorrow I must do what I came here for, a boring presentation of an egotistical magus. Wonderful.