Kain walked through the Dark Moon City towards the bar the Golden Barrel. However, he noted that the once-vibrant street, was now a shadow of its former self.
The block, which had been a bustling hub of activity, was now eerily quiet, except for the occasional distant murmur of repair work.
The damage from the recent beast-tide was apparent everywhere. Scorched marks and charred debris were all over the pavement and what remained of the building, serving as frightening reminders of the creatures that had breached the city’s walls.
The previously sturdy and welcoming building that had a kind of old England charm, were now battered and bruised by the brutal assault. The walls had deep gashes and cracks, with some structures partially collapsed.
The pub, a main attraction on the street, had fared no better. Its wooden exterior was blackened and splintered, the once-proud sign now hanging crookedly, barely clinging to the roof.
Inside, the damage was even more striking. The heavy wooden door was now splintered and hanging off its hinges. Broken furniture lay scattered around, and the bar itself was scarred with deep burn marks, the polished surface mangled beyond recognition.
The walls that once proudly displayed newspaper clippings and rewards for the pub’s beer were now empty, some of them had even collapsed under the weight of falling debris.
Barret, the one-man owner, brewer and bartender of the Golden Barrel, stood amidst the wreckage. His usually proud and imposing figure was now slumped vulnerably. He looked to have aged a decade overnight. His bushy beard and sharp eyes, usually so full of life, now seemed heavy with tiredness.
He gazed over the ruin of his business with a deep sadness that spoke volumes. The once-lively atmosphere of his pub was replaced by a grim silence, broken only by the occasional hiss of steam from cooling rubble or the distant clatter of the ongoing repair work.
Kain approached him carefully, “Barret,” he said softly, “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Kain. I was one of you customers a few weeks ago.”
Barret’s blurry eyes momentarily focused on Kain’s face. “I remember. I remember all of my customers. You’re the boy that kept flattering me…”
‘That’s what you remember? Couldn’t you remember me as the handsome customer or something more flattering?’
Shaking the slightly narcissistic thoughts from his head, Kain placed a reassuring hand on the bartender’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to see the place like this. It must be devastating.”
“It’s more than I ever imagined,” he replied, his voice heavy. “The beasts caused a lot of damage, but we might have been able to recover from that. The real blow came after.”
Kain raised an eyebrow, confusion evident on his face. “What do you mean?”
“The spiritual plants,” Barret explained, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the weight of his words was too much to bear. “Every last one of them in the city vanished overnight. The red-grade spiritual plant we use for brewing, the common Brewer’s Barley—it’s gone. Without it, I can’t make any more beer. Even if we fix up the bar, there’s no telling when or if I’ll be able to brew again.”
Kain’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I had no idea! Any clues on what cause it?”
‘I guess it’s a good thing that I waited so long to plant my own field of spiritual plants otherwise I may have been picked clean too if the perpetrator was green-grade or higher.’
Barret shook his head, his shoulders sagging slightly. “We only suspect that it was a wild yellow-grade spiritual creature that entered while the city’s wards were down. Not just my bar. The whole city is affected. The spiritual plants were used to supply every food and beverage industry in this city, and now that they’re gone, none of us business owners have a clue what to do.
We’re working on getting things back to normal, but it’ll be a long time before we’re fully operational again.”
Kain offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ll overcome this. You’ve always put your heart into what you do. Once the city recovers, I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
Barret managed a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you. I hope so. For now, I guess it’s just a matter of patience and rebuilding, both for the city and for my pub.”
Kain went silent for a moment. Barret was very emotionally sensitive right now, and he worried if it’d be insensitive to bring up the topic now. However, there was a small cruel part of him that felt like now that Barret no longer had the bar to focus on, it increased Kain’s chances at succeeding in bringing him into his own business.
“By any chance do have any beer left for your personal use? I was one of the defenders on the city wall so I was really looking forward to getting a drink here to unwind.”
Barret perked up slightly at the prospect of being able to fall back into his familiar routine as a bartender.
“I do have some used for personal consumption back at my home. I usually only serve it to friends and family, but considering that you are one of our city’s heroes I’d be honoured to serve you a drink.”
Barret led Kain through the winding streets of the residential area, past homes that thankfully appeared untouched by the recent chaos.
After a short walk, they arrived at a modest, yet well-kept home that exuded a sense of warmth and stability.
As they entered, Kain was greeted by the comforting aroma of wood smoke and simmering herbs, a welcome change from the charred smells around the bar’s ruins.
The interior of Barret’s home was cozy, with wooden beams and stone walls that gave it a rustic charm. A large hearth was on one side of the living area, where a fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room.
Barret led Kain to a door at the back of the house, which opened into a small, private bar. The room was a miniature version of the Golden Barrel, meticulously designed to mimic the ambiance of his pub, but also had some more hominess.
Similarly, a polished wooden bar stretched across one side of the room. The decor was a blend of nostalgia and personal pride—framed photographs of past gatherings, old brewing awards, and handcrafted mugs adorned the space.
Barret moved behind the bar, his demeanor shifting from despondent to the familiar confidence of a host. “This is where I keep some of my personal stock,” he said, selecting a slightly smaller barrel than was at the pubs from a shelf behind the counter. “It’s not as extensive in selection as what we had at the pub, but it’s the best I have left.”
Kain settled onto one of the high stools, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiar setting. Barret poured a cold dark amber beer into a glass, the rich white froth rising to the top.
Barret slid the glass across the bar. “Here you go. It’s a special blend I’ve been working on for years. Still haven’t introduced it to the bar yet though since I feel something is missing. But I can assure you that it still tastes excellent.”
Kain took a sip, savoring the complex flavors—the maltiness with hints of caramel, and a subtle spiciness that danced on his palate. It was even better than the beer he’d had previously “This is excellent,” Kain said, setting the glass down with appreciation. “You’ve really outdone yourself. Are you sure you’re not just being to picky?”
Barret’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of pride. “Thank you. It’s always good to hear that. Everyone that’s tried it has also always said the same, but I’m still sticking with my gut on this one—it can get better. I know it can”
Kain took a moment, letting the silence settle between them. The comforting atmosphere of the personal bar seemed to create the perfect backdrop for the conversation he was about to start. He leaned forward slightly, choosing his words carefully. “Barret, I’ve been thinking.
With your pub currently out of commission and the city in a difficult spot, maybe now might be a good time for you to explore new opportunities.”