I've had hangovers. I've had the kind that makes the room spin in the morning with a pounding headache that goes away in a few hours, thanks to a few painkillers and a gallon of water. Then there are the kinds that make you feel like absolute hell. You regret pretty much everything you did the night before. It's the kind of hangover you remember for a while and promise you'll never repeat.

  Then there is the hangover that occurs after drinking the night away with a bunch of fucking dwarves.

  "I'm dying," I proclaimed.

  The world tilted. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth. It felt like I'd licked Lady Churl's boot. Every pulse behind my temples screamed in time, with the dwarven chants still ringing in my skull. Had I swallowed molten lead? Been trampled by an orc squad?

  “Dwarves,” I rasped at the ceiling, voice like gravel in my cotton-filled mouth. “Never. Again.”

  A mound of blankets beside me shifted. Seraphina’s hand emerged and slapped the nightstand. “Varix. My love.” Her words came from clenched teeth. “Your voice is splitting my head in two.”

  “Good morning to you, too.” I pressed both palms against my eye sockets. Red patterns flared behind my lids. “Restoratives. Please. I’ll name my firstborn after you.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow, hair a midnight storm around her face. “'Firstborn? Shouldn't I have a say in that?"

  That gave me pause. I leaned over and gently kissed Seraphina's cheek. She smiled but pulled the covers back over her head and said, "I don't have one. But I need one, too."

  During the agony, I registered carved stone walls, a ceiling low enough to brush my head, and a far too-short bed. My boots protruded over the footboard. At some point, I had changed into my new fast travel boots.

  My legs tangled in sheets as I rolled sideways. My knees hit floorboards and myelbow caught the bed frame. The room executed a slow pirouette. Or I did. It's hard to tell when you're dying.

  “We’re at the dwarf inn.” I groaned.

  “We sure are. I wonder if my father is still here.” Seraphina pulled a pillow over her face. “You were singing when the dwarves deposited you in this bed.”

  “Singing?”

  “If you consider screaming ‘Dance of the Drunken Badger’ while attempting to dance on a table to be singing… yes.”

  A fragment of memory surfaced—stomping boots, shattered mugs. Braided beards bouncing in approval. My stomach performed a somersault. I lunged for the washbasin.

  Cold water hit my face. The shock didn’t cure the headache, but it brought my misery into sharp focus. My reflection in the tarnished mirror looked like something exhumed. Kinda fitting for the thing that lurked under my disguise.

  “Guild meeting,” I croaked as I attempted to wash up. “Need to petition for the tavern today.”

  Seraphina didn’t move from her nest of blankets. “Go. Lie extravagantly. Maybe bribe someone. Do you have that coin from the king?"

  "I don't, but he's giving me another one and a reward for getting rid of Morthisal. It will be under the table, though. No official announcement."

  "That's great." Seraphina rolled over and covered her head with the pillow again.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I'm in no state. I need to get out of these clothes, wash up, maybe vomit a little, and then figure out where the nearest apothecary is. Meet me at the palace after.” Her hand flicked toward the door. “And for pity’s sake, find a restorative.”

  I leaned over and kissed the back of her head. "See you soon, Tallflower."

  "Don't."

  I chuckled as I headed out the door, pausing to pick up my new jacket wrapped in a thick piece of brown wax paper and bound with twine.

  The hallway smelled of stale ale and ancestral regret. Each step down the spiral staircase sent jagged blasts through my brain. A portly innkeeper grinned at me from behind the bar, polishing a tankard with a rag that appeared to have never met soap. “Survived the revelry, eh? You're not a bad drinker for one of the talls."

  I stared at him.

  He slid a murky vial across the counter. “For the uninitiated. On the house.”

  "Is that a restorative?"

  "It is. They're made for our kind, but it'll do the trick. I added a little extra to account for your size."

  "Friend. You are my personal hero," I said, picking up the vial.

  It looked just like the restoratives in Everspring, but it had a faint blue tinge swirling inside.

  "This looks a little different than the restoratives back in Everspring."

  The dwarf leaned forward. "Dwarves work hard. A night of ale tends to make them a lazy lot. There's a little extra in there to boost your strength a bit. Plus something to add some extra stamina."

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Huh."

  I turned the vial back and forth, popped the top, and sniffed. It smelled pleasant enough with a little 'burn your nose' dose of sulfur. To hell with it. If it was poison, at least I'd be out of my misery.

  The liquid tasted of burnt honey, vanilla, and a dirty sock. Within seconds, the vise around my skull loosened from “you're about to die” to “moderately annoyed badger rummaging around for food in my brain.”

  "Thank you, friend. How much do I owe you?"

  "Nothing. The elf paid for everything. Said he'd be at the library and to send his daughter along when she's able."

  "What a nice man. Can you inform Seraphina when she's up? She'll be the cute elf. They called her Tallflower. She likes that." I smiled at the barkeep. "I didn't catch your name."

  "Name's Orin, and I'll inform her. Where are ya off to?"

  "The tavern guild. Do you know where I can find it?"

  "’Course, I do. I pay my dues over there."

  The dwarf went on to give me directions. By the fifth turn, I was already lost. I told him I'd ask along the way since my head was still hurting.

  "I've had mornings like that, lad. You let that restorative finish its worth, and you'll be right as a forge hammer swinger in no time."

  I prayed he was right.

  The door closed the door behind me. Sunlight stabbed my retinas. Somewhere, a songbird chirped. I considered throwing a rock at it, but as I walked, the pain started to fade. Not only that, but my body suddenly felt lighter. I picked up the pace, thanking my new boots for their extra speed.

  The restorative worked its magic as I navigated the bustling streets of Crownforge. Dwarves and humans alike hurried about their business. Voices mingled in a racket of haggling, laughter, and the occasional curse. The air was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread, hot metal from the forges, and the earthy scent of the mountain itself.

  I passed a blacksmith's shop where a burly dwarf hammered away at a glowing piece of metal. Sparks flew with every strike. Next door, a human seamstress displayed an array of colorful fabrics in her window. Near her shop, a group of dwarf children played a game of tag on the cobblestone street.

  I couldn't help but admire the intricate carvings decorating every stone building. Dwarven craftsmanship was unique: the carvings were made of squared-off geometric patterns.

  I stopped a passing dwarf with a long, braided beard. "Excuse me, I'm looking for the tavern guild. Could you point me in the right direction?"

  The dwarf squinted up at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Aye, it's not far. Just keep going straight, then take a left at the statue of old King Thandar the Bold. Can't miss it."

  I thanked him and continued on my way, following his directions. Sure enough, I soon found myself standing before an imposing stone building with a large wooden sign hanging above the door. It read "Crownforge Tavern Guild" in bold gold lettering.

  I knocked, but no one came to the door. After a few minutes, I pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. Scattered oil lamps cast faint light throughout the room. Bookshelves hugged the walls, packed with what appeared to be accounting volumes. Wooden beams stretched high overhead in a latticed pattern across the vaulted ceiling. The place was remarkably clean but still smelled of old leather and moldering paper.

  A stout dwarf with a neatly trimmed beard and a no-nonsense expression walked into the room. He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  "What can I do for you?" he asked gruffly.

  I cleared my throat. "I'm here to petition for a tavern in Everspring. Dulmore Thornton told me to come here. My tavern has been accused of operating without the required documentation or licenses or something. It was a little bit confusing."

  "Accused? Ale and ashes. That is most unusual, good sir. Most unusual. It's a simple matter, you see."

  The dwarf reached under the bar and pulled out a stack of papers. "You'll need to fill these out. Name, location, proposed name of the establishment, and any relevant experience, as well as pay your dues. When do you plan to open the tavern?"

  "It's already open. Is that a problem? I bought it because it had been abandoned."

  "Oh. I see. What is the name again?"

  "It's the Shadow's Respite in Everspring."

  "I see. I see," the dwarf said as he moved around the room. His heavy boots clomped over the wood floor. He found a wall, and his finger followed a shelf as he walked. The stout man paused, pulled out a book, cracked it open, and flipped through the pages.

  "Ah. Here it is. Looks as though it closed ten years ago. And you purchased it? Who is it that brought the guild's concerns to you?"

  "That would be Dulmore Thornton."

  The dwarf did a double take. "Dulmore was dispatched to…" He looked down at the page again. "Everspring. Does your tavern even seat fifty patrons?"

  "I mean—I can get almost that many through the door. I don't, though. I worry about a fire."

  "A fire?"

  "Yes. In case the tavern catches on fire. I want to be sure all of my friends can escape."

  The dwarf stroked his chin as he looked between me and the book, then he closed the book with a gentle thud. "You'll have to wait for a few other members to arrive. We have some matters to discuss regarding your case. Once we are done, you will be allowed to fill out the paperwork."

  "How long will that take?"

  "Not too long. Dulmore should be here later, but his presence isn't necessary for this." The dwarf gestured to a bench along the wall. "Make yourself comfortable."

  This seemed like a good time to make myself a little more presentable. I extracted my fine leather jacket from its packaging and slid into it, folded up the paper, and shoved it into one of the outer pockets.

  I wandered the room while I waited, studying the paintings that lined the walls. Each featured a different tavern, captured in various seasons and times of the day. One showed a cozy establishment with snow piled high against its walls, while another depicted a summer evening with customers gathered at outdoor tables. Several exhibited wisps of smoke curling from stone chimneys into clear skies.

  The door creaked open every few minutes as more guild members filed in. They wore comfortable but well-made clothing, and their expressions were serious as they nodded to each other and took their seats. Some carried leather portfolios stuffed with papers. Others fled into back rooms and closed doors behind them.

  The last to arrive was a tall, rail-thin man in an immaculate black jacket. A monocle perched on his nose.

  "Master Blackburr," the dwarf who I had first met here called out. He tapped the book he'd been holding that contained information about my tavern. "A moment of your time?"

  The two disappeared into a back room. Their muffled voices carried through the door, though I couldn't make out the words. When they emerged a few minutes later, the tall man strode directly toward me.

  "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Thadeus Blackburr, head of the Crownforge chapter of the Tavern Guild." He extended a thin hand. I shook it once and found his skin cool and somewhat clammy. "You've already met Rurik, here." The dwarf bobbed his head. "I understand you've been operating The Shadow's Respite without proper documentation?"

  "That's why I'm here. I rescued the tavern from years of abandonment. I'm somewhat new to the area, having suffered a head wound in the war. Much of my memories are missing." I told my well-practiced lie. "I'm eager to rectify that situation. Whatever needs to be done, I'm happy to comply."

  Blackburr's mouth tightened into a thin line. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Vel'Naris. You will have to shut down the Shadow's Respite, effective immediately."

  two-week European vacation in March and won't be able to post many chapters during that time. We're flying to Amsterdam and then taking a river cruise along the Rhine in Germany to see castles. Castles! Woot. Then it's off to Paris and London. I'll post more about it when the actual date approaches.