Hangover

This was a bad day. That was the first thing that came to my mind after I came into the office. I slumped in my chair, feeling a tad bit sleep-deprived. No one developed a permanent morning after cure and while I was tempted to cast a little cantrip, which could have dulled my pain, the sheer force of the headache made me reconsider.

So this is it, any further attempts at reconciliation with Ms. Wegemann will be futile. The heavy and sweet Gran wine dulled the pain somewhat last night and eased me into bed, but in the morning light, everything seemed cold and bleak, despite the fact that in Queen’s View the temperature never dropped into single digits. At least, the northwesterly breeze made sure that air was pleasant in the morning, unlike the more humid conditions experienced with the winds blowing from Inner Sea. Today, I was thankful, even for that tiny bit of relief.

Still, the matter of fact is that by ten in the morning, I was in no better shape than when I woke up. To be honest, morning coffee (Coffee Bay Finest) brought out only the worst part of the hangover to life – the sudden realization that your life is not going to get better, at least not anytime soon. And with that startling reminder of why one should not overly indulge himself in drinking the sorrows away, came the sudden urge to walk down to the office. At least, beside painstakingly boring process of making top level official correspondence tamper proof, there was a greater chance of something happening there than in the familiar surrounding of my home.

Well, to be honest, Imperial Revenues Bureau was always busy with clerks and lawyers, bookkeepers and petitioners, tax men and couriers, the kind of folks, you would be urging to hang on the nearest lamppost if they haven’t usually come armed with grim-faced retainers and if, without them, this shambles of actual society could actually work. And while as a whole, all governments are a fine rubble and cannot be trusted to find a sailor in a port side tavern, I did find an employment there, enabling me to pay my taxes and most of other foreseeable expenses. And as a ministerial aide, a wizardly sort at that, I could spend as much as time as like, i.e. not much, with aforementioned dabblers in financial matters.

So when, one of our own came calling, I was relieved to be able to disassociate myself from the daily proceedings at the office. Even, if that meant that my hangover would not be cured until I could find my next dosage of an uninterrupted sleep with no alcohol imbibing involved.

‘So tell me, what is the point of drinking over her?’ I heard the familiar voice. ‘You should really spend some time in a finest companionship establishment in the city. You should be flirting with the female students at the university or with some cute and uninhibited witches at the academy. But you should never ever whine over her.’

Oh, bother. Was it that obvious? In all honesty, I probably should admit that it was. And the scorn in his voice was filled with concern rather than blatant disapproval of my dark brooding self.

‘Well, pardon me, dear Sir, but coming from the man, whose fiancée worships the air beneath his feet, this advice is not as sound as it may feel.’ The sarcastic pangs of jealousy in my voice sounded very silly. ‘I am sorry, Robin, but somehow I do not think that you would ever found yourself in my situation. Being a baronet makes you pretty much immune to being a laughing stock of the capital.’

‘That is just not true.’ Baronet Robert Watson made a sad face, than smiled. ‘I am not immune to gossip, you know? I do understand that Ms. Wegemann’s family would have made her re-think her exit strategy, if you were not just a wizard. Although, look on the bright side, it’s not like you are going to have to marry the hag.’

I did force myself to smile. While Robert was not an extraordinary sort of chap, he was steady and dependable. And that made him irresistible to a certain blond Eisener that was going to marry her. Also, that made him an above-average friend and a person at the office that made sure that ordinary affairs of the Imperial Treasury run smoothly and with a necessary expedience.

‘ I suppose not.’ The huge sigh that escaped from my lips must have been heard in the darkest corners of the buildings. ‘But it does not hurt any less.’

Robert looked at me with his blue eyes, but did not press the issue. He reached out to me and helped me to my feet.

‘Still, drinking away a sorrow is not something that is very helpful either.’ There was something a bit thoughtful in his voice. ‘Still, there is no indication that a good meal at Felix’s will make matters worse. And he can keep an eye on how much you drink’

Stubborn bastard, always trying to cheer me up.

‘Do I sound that desperate that you would invite me to one place in Queen’s View that I have invested my money in?’ I tried to whine, but the though of a good medium-rare steak at Felix’s dulled the sarcastic tone of my voice somewhat. ‘You know, it’s like getting the King to pay his own taxes.’

‘I might have expected that you may say that.’ Robin’s eyes were curiously filled with an intent. ‘I do think that if my sources are correct, you might find tonight’s company invigorating.’

My face must have told him that I sincerely was not expecting that to happen, at least anytime in the nearest twenty years. But his enthusiasm could pull it through.

‘So come on, should I send a message to hold a table for you?’ He asked with a mischievous grin that should have alerted that it was not his idea. But well, hangover made me unable to resist or to get a much more insight at the time.

‘Yes, you should.’ I blurted out after a long pause.