The Common Man

Posted on Thu Oct 21st, 2021 @ 12:09am by Kalen "Rex" Vickers & Mentis

2,256 words; about a 11 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Pallaeon Main Street, Ravelin, Bastion
Timeline: Afternoon (Day Three, Week Four)

OLD

Mentis looked down slightly, "Of course, we were just discussing how this 'Empire Day' event may give us a bit of cover. We'll work something out."

"Then it is decided," Amare said as she started to leave, but then tapped the Rattataki gently on the shoulder as she passed and turned to him, "Mentis, before we go our separate ways for the day, may I have words with you for a few minutes? Alone?"

Rex rolled his eyes before he came up to stand beside Mentis briefly, a friendly hand placed on his bony shoulder. "Mantis my man, when a lady says that to you, it's never a good thing - especially when it sounds like it is." He shook his head and chuckled lightly. "Let me know when you're ready to get this bucking bantha ride started," he added with an extra pat, before working his way out of the room with Thane and Bomoor. "I'll be gearing up with Reave."

NEW

The lower streets of Ravelin were jammed with people all competing for their place along Pellaeon Street where, within the hour, the yearly Empire Day parade would take place. In preparation, the centre of the street had been cleared and barriers had been erected to make way for the various speeders, floats and military vehicles that would soon be passing along to excite and inspire the citizens of Bastion.

The excitement did not particularly translate into the pair of off-worlders who were carefully squeezing their way through the crowd outside the Baron's Arms public house, in order to enter the establishment. Being on the corner of an intersection with the main street, the establishment would have an excellent view of the upcoming parade and was therefore teeming with business both inside and out.

Eventually finding their way inside, they were then met with the challenge of finding a seat, “Is there really anyone here who is going to be in any mood to talk to us?” Mentis queried doubtfully to Rex whose eagle eyes were scanning the interior.

There was a familiar smell to the location, as was present in most cantinas dominated by Humanoids; there was the sweet-stale aroma of spilt and dried beers, intermingled with the scents of old smoke, spirits and the musk of men and women that had been hard at work, physically labouring through the day. However, unlike the ubiquitous 'cantina' style that was commonplace throughout the galaxy, The Baron's Arms had an 'older world' aesthetic and atmosphere to it, setting it quite apart from the mold most drinking establishments used, from Coruscant to Nar Shaddaa.

Wooden furniture was carefully arranged about, with a central bar that had been polished to a fine sheen, albeit there were a number of dents and scuffs across its aged wood. Glass tankards were suspended from hooks above the bar, and several pump-like protrusions jutted up from it, which would require manual operation to bring forth the alcoholic beverages. The hallmarks of modern technology were almost conspicuously absent, with a few exceptions for consoles against the walls, here and there, and a serving droid that was making its way daintily around the tables, serving larger parties their drinks.

Ribbons and banners bearing the crest of the Bastion Moff Empire adorned the walls and bar, whilst several projectors provided news coverage of the impending display, albeit much of the parade was taking place within walking distance of the public house, which was convenient, given the windows were thick and rippled, obscuring any view inside or out.

Finally, further adding to the atmosphere, a fire was crackling off to one side, with two old armchairs and a caf table positioned in front of it. A canine of some description was lounging between the two chairs, only raising its head occasionally to get the odd scratch from his owner, an older, beer-sodden gentleman wearing an old officer's peaked cap, who seemed deep in his cups already, despite the relatively early hour of the day. Nothing else about him suggested he was still an active officer, and he paid no mind to the others in the building.

"This, my bald and athletic friend, is a pub!" Rex exclaimed to Mentis quite enthusiastically by way of reply, placing a friendly hand and arm around the younger man's shoulder, and using his free hand to gesture at the less-than-enthralled customers in the Arms, who, despite the day's apparent festivities, all seemed quite disconnected from the world around them.

"Unlike your cantinas on Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa, these here bar flies ain't your normal drinkers, oh no," he went on to explain, his voice having dipped a little in volume, as he ushered Mentis closer to the bar with small steps. "On those worlds, the cantinas serve an all-day crowd, on planets and in districts where day and night mean nothing. In some rare quarters, you still find little gems like this, where the more conservative-minded come to gather, commiserating on their low pay and miserable existences." Rex looked around a little and wiggled his nose at some smell that seemed to offend him. "There are a few on Naboo, and maybe a few other of those worlds that still dream of the heady days of tyranny and warlords, rain-soaked and grim." He shrugged as they reached the bar. "You'd probably call them taverns, but that sounds a little like something out of one of those fantasy-romance holovids I know you read at night."

“I don’t-“ Mentis began, before taking a look at Rex’s face and spying his amusement, “Oh, very funny. I was going to call it more of a ‘tapcafe’, actually, but if you want to use an archaic term, then be my guest. I think you’re the one living in a fantasy holovid. Let’s just start by ordering a drink and go from there.”

The bartender turned from the assortment of snacks he had been pointlessly re-arranging on the display to face the two newcomers. Like nearly all of Bastion's inhabitants, he was a Human. Dressed casually, his portly stomach was protruding, and his features were weatherworn from years of exposure to the elements. It seemed the venue catered for that sort of clientele, too, which had probably been the impetus behind Rex choosing the Arms to scope out; there were folks garbed in more basic variants of the Imperial accoutrement with various symbols, all in fairly dull tones, sat at quite a few of the tables, either muttering in subdued voices to one another or keeping in complete silence.

The proprietor paid little mind to Rex, but examined his Rattataki companion more carefully, looking him up and down with a suspicious eye. He put two meat hands down on the bar and rested his weight on them, before finally addressing them both.

"You sick, mate?" He then asked, jutting a chin out as a means of pointing to Mentis. "Nothin' contagious, I 'ope?"

“Nothing a drink won’t fix,” the Rattataki kept his eye on the bartender, indicating that the comment about his skin colour should go no further, “What do you have on tap here?”

"A good bunch of beers," the bartender replied after a few moments of sizing up Mentis and his curt reply, adjusting his leaning position to gesture along the bar. "Most of it's local stuff, brewed on Bastion herself, mainly just bitters and other pales - a bit like you, I guess." The lack of laughter made it clear the bartender did not mean the comment too kindly. "We've had a new one come on from Fegorosk - Fegorosk Fade. It's popular with you, uhh... the less Human punters - particularly the recent influx of labourers we've 'ad."

The bartender then nodded towards one of the groups dressed in the plain Imperial utility jumpsuits, of which only one was non-Human - a male Zabrak, his skin pigmentation fairly close to that of a light-skinned Human, with only small protruding horns and a few lines in his face belying his alien nature.

"I'll have a Bastion bitter, buddy," Rex said jovially, placing down a portion of Imperial dataries that the Raptor crew had been furnished with for their objectives. Rex handled them like they were the most familiar thing to him, and even made a little show of spinning one of the shiny silver chits between his fingers, smiling as he then laid it down in front of the bartender - who simply stared back at Rex.

Mentis’ mismatched eyes remained on the group of off-world workers a moment longer before he turned back to the bartender and leaned one elbow on the counter, “I think I can manage a Bastion bitter as well,” he placed his own silvery chits down on the counter with his other hand, “I can’t imagine a better drink to toast the Empire on this most special day.”

The bartender harrumphed and rolled his eyes. "Grow up, fella," he said, shaking his head as he pulled the lever to pour both pints, which he passed to each of the men. He scraped up the coins, for that was the most accurate description, and quickly counted them. "Seems you're short, no doubt on account on being so excited about this 'most special day'."

Rex's disarming smile remained firmly in place, with added twinkle in his eye for good measure, or so it appeared to Mentis. "You've gotta be quick to be a good barman, that's for sure. I guess you're just lucky today we're not government agents, out to seek enemies of the Empire, eh? There ain't nothing childish about loving your country. It's out duty. Isn't that right, buddy?"

The Human nudged an elbow into Mentis' ribs as he spoke. "Get the good man his money. It's a good day to be a patriot."

“Yes,” Mentis frowned slightly as he rifled through his pouch to produce another few units of Imperial currency, “A wonderful day for any loyal member of the Empire…”

”…I’m quite sure” he added dryly under his breath.

The shadow of suspicion had actually fallen over the bartender's face at Rex's joke about government agents, perhaps showing that there was more truth to the joke than it first appeared, so he ended their interaction with a nod, and he took the extra chits and placed them in his till. "Long live the Empire, lads. Have a good drink."

With that, he did not wait for a further response, as another patron approached the bar, allowing him to politely turn his attention away from Rex and Mentis, who also took their drinks and turned to face the rest of the public house.

"This place reminds me a little too much of the Company bar on Rakele," Rex muttered under his breath to Mentis as he took a small sip of his drink, which had a thick foamy head resting atop it. Some of it came off on Rex's face, leaving a thin white layer on his top lip, which he did not immediately wipe away. "I think your wizard pals like this place a little too much, you know? We gotta play this real careful."

“You don’t think us ‘wizards’ will be sticking together on this one?” Mentis swirled the drink slightly in his hand before taking a more conservative sip than his companion, “Perhaps we know something about the bigger picture a lowly mortal could not.”

Rex actually huffed at that, and not in an amused way. "Or maybe that's all you see. Ever hear the story about the fella who couldn't see past his own nose?" He quickly flicked his finger against the scar that ran across to the bridge of Mentis' nose.

Mentis recoiled but stopped himself from any retaliation as he looked about at the other patrons close at hand. Instead, he scowled slightly and took another sip, “Yes, well I’m sure you know I don’t really relish being on this world but we have to make the most of the hand we are dealt. On that note, shall I see what fine conversation I can have with the ‘less Human’ sorts while you mingle yourself?”

His companion glanced about the room once more, and it did not seem like they had attracted any further attention since their appearance or conversation at the bar. After taking another hearty gulp from his drink, Rex nodded casually a few times. "A smooth drink to go with a smooth plan. Come find me when you get something good. All else fails, I might see if Colonel Sideburns has anything good to grumble about."

“Sure, just don’t get into any of the usual trouble,” Mentis waved his hand in the air as though to cast Rex away before setting his sights on the table of foreign labourers the barkeep had mentioned.

The Rattataki’s target group was sitting seemingly slightly removed from the main throng of the other patrons by an aged wooden pillar that was probably unnecessary in the building’s construction but added to the classic feel of the establishment. They seemed quite content in their corner, chattering away indistinctly. They were perhaps slightly less animated than the rest, but not considerably. They did, however, cease their conversation the moment Mentis’ boot stepped past the pillar and into their space.

Under a firm brow, one of the Human labourers asked him, "You lost, mate?"

TBC

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