The Best of Times 3

In the "Jeweled Scabbard" tavern, Renner was slumped over the table, looking through the wine bottle at the two waitresses behind the counter, about ten yards away. The shorter one had her back turned, while the taller, dark-haired one rested her left hand on the shorter one's shoulder, whispering something. She occasionally glanced over at Renner, only to quickly avert her gaze.

Renner pressed his right hand against his abdomen under the table. He could feel an unpleasant liquid churning in his stomach, and his solution was to tilt his head back and gulp down nearly half a bottle of wine. After a brief moment of relief in his throat, his stomach felt like it had taken a soft but heavy blow, and a buzzing sound rang deep in his brain. Of course, he had no intention of staying sober tonight.

It was noisy around him, mostly fellow students from the military academy. They probably wouldn't be classmates for much longer, and Renner wasn't too regretful about that. At least, not regretful enough to tell them about how his father, Durado, had secretly applied for his withdrawal from school.

A year ago, when Renner was nineteen, just as his father was about to formally hand over part of the family business—a large fabric shop in Gadgetzan—for him to manage, Renner ran away. He took some of the liquid assets with him, using it as tuition to enroll in the most prestigious aristocratic military academy. Since the age of five, he had been reading about this school. By the time he was eleven, he had memorized the biographies of nearly a hundred famous generals who had graduated from there. He had never told his father about his desire to join their ranks because, clearly, it would have been pointless. Durado had forbidden him from going to school, keeping him at home to learn only one thing: how to inherit and run the vast family business. Reynar's academic performance was far better than that of his younger brother, who was a year and four months younger than him. Yet it was precisely this that made Renner realize how absurd the idea of getting his father's permission to attend the military academy truly was.

When he was fourteen, Renner lied about his age to join the army. After Durado had him dragged back home, he also had his men beat the recruitment officers half to death. During the three months of confinement that followed, Renner came up with a strategy: first, comply with his father's wishes, then reconsider once he had a bit more freedom of action. After all, the age limit for the military academy was sixteen to twenty-two, so he still had time.

Shortly after arriving at the school, Renner quickly discovered that it wasn't exactly the sanctuary for those willing to die for their country that he had imagined. Most of the students were just there to gain political capital for themselves and to earn their families the reputation of being patriots. They had no real passion for the military. But even so, idealistic students like Renner still existed. Not to mention the fact that Stormwind's most advanced educational resources and finest faculty were here, which made him grateful for his decision. Under these circumstances, the worry that his father might show up one day had long been pushed to the back of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, I can follow the path I want—he thought.

But reality proved that to be an illusion. Durado had known Renner had fled here almost before he had even paid the tuition. His son's drastic actions led Durado to some introspection, and the result was: wait and observe Renner for a while. A year later, when Durado saw that Renner was serious, and that he would undoubtedly graduate with honors at this rate, he took decisive action: he applied for Reynar's withdrawal.

The matter was still under negotiation, and the school was reluctant to let go of such a promising student. But given Duldor's wealth and influence, it was hard to see a way out.

For the past three days, Renner had been drowning his sorrows in the "Jeweled Scabbard" tavern because of this. Being near the military academy, it made sense for the place to have such a name, though the establishment wasn't exactly high-end. Most of its income came from students who could afford to squander their money and the town girls they brought along, giving it the air of a bachelor's club. These students lived double lives. When they went on dates with noblewomen under their families' expectations, they chose the high-end "Sea Pearl" restaurant, located five hundred yards away in the town center.

Renner wasn't immune to such customs either. He had been in an on-and-off relationship with one of the waitresses, Eileen—the shorter girl currently behind the counter—for six months, but yesterday he had finally broken up with her. Sometimes he felt that he had only been seeing her to have something to contribute to his classmates' discussions about romantic exploits. And now, he was involved in something that made him feel even worse morally: a bet with his friends about whether Eileen would bring drinks to their table. He bet she wouldn't—five gold coins. He deliberately raised the stakes this high because he wanted to spend all the money he had brought with him before leaving school, as a small act of rebellion against his father.

"She won't? You're really betting she won't?" A classmate pinched his shoulder. "You must think you're pretty important to her."

Renner, irritated, swatted the hand away. "Shut up and wait."

"Eileen!" the guy suddenly shouted. "What are you dawdling for? We've been waiting half the day—bring six more bottles of wine to our table!"

Renner saw the innkeeper urging Eileen. She picked up a tray of wine and almost stepped out from behind the counter, but the taller girl who had been comforting her stopped her, took the tray, and headed toward their table.

Renner knew her name was Crecyda. He lifted his head, his gaze shifting from behind the wine bottle to meet hers. She didn't look away.

Crecyda placed the bottles on their table and said, "Don't go too far." Though she was addressing Renner, her tone made it clear she wanted everyone at the table to hear.

"Are you here in Eileen's place? Looks like the coldest girl at the Jeweled Scabbard has a cute side after all." The guy who had been shouting earlier leaned forward, his right hand reaching toward her face, but Renner smacked it away with the back of his fist.

"What the hell?" The guy withdrew his hand and looked at Renner.

"I lost the bet," Renner said without looking at him, opening his fist to reveal five gold coins. "And the drinks are on me, too."

It wasn't so much a gentlemanly gesture as it was a childish, petty contest among men, and Renner could tell that Crecyda wasn't impressed in the slightest. There was a feline sharpness in her eyes that made him unable to meet her gaze. To avoid the situation, he leaned back and turned his head, saying, "What are you still looking at? I'm not planning on tipping," then listened as her footsteps gradually faded into the rowdy tavern.

By the time they left, Renner was so drunk he couldn't tell which way was which. He crouched by the roadside, wanting to vomit but unable to bring anything up. When he stood up again, he found that two people had grabbed his shoulders. The guy whose arm he had hit earlier stood in front of him.

"What do you want?" Renner almost gagged on the stench rising from his throat as he spoke.

"A going-away gift."

The guy punched Renner in the stomach. Renner vaguely heard someone say, "You hit the wrong spot—he just puked on my hand."

"Our glorious alma mater can't tolerate a dirty little rat like you who snuck in with stolen money," the guy sneered, grabbing Renner by the hair. "Luckily, you've got a reasonable old man. Before he drags you back to your rat hole… last semester, you broke my nose in combat training, remember?"

"Did I?" Renner blinked hard to clear the stinging in his eyes. "Now I remember. I apologize for breaking your precious nose—truly, I shouldn't have. I forgot at the time that your nose is the only part of you that can stand up straight."

Renner vaguely recalled fighting back that night, but mostly, he got beaten up. At first, he wondered who had told them where his tuition came from, but he immediately realized it was probably Durado. The best way to convince the school to give up on an outstanding student was to prove he was morally corrupt. He even suspected that these guys had been paid by Durado to attack him. There was no evidence, but Renner knew it was the kind of thing his father would do.

After they left, Renner stood up from the vomit- and mud-covered ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He touched something hard, flinching in pain. A small stone had gotten lodged in his gums. He pulled it out and spat a mixture of blood and phlegm. His nose wasn't broken.

This wasn't the main street, but there were still quite a few passersby. Curious eyes lingered on Renner, likely because of his uniform. He lifted his head. The dark laundry lines crisscrossed the sky, splitting the stars into fragmented pieces. This is where I am now—drunk, bruised, and covered in mud. This is how I'll say goodbye. Beyond the houses at the end of the street, the spire of the campus chapel was visible, like a finely dressed nobleman standing behind a ragged beggar, each pointing out the other's more glaring attire. A year ago, when Renner first saw the spire, he had believed he belonged to it, and it to him. Now, it felt like a story from another world.

He stumbled a few steps forward, not even considering whether he should return to the school dormitory, just trying to regain his balance. Unknowingly, he found himself back at the rear entrance of the Jeweled Scabbard. A bucket of dirty water was thrown out, splashing at his feet, causing him to nearly slip.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't see..." A person emerged from the back door, holding a bucket in one hand. As they finished apologizing, their voice rose. "...What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Crecyda." Renner felt dizzy, pressing a hand to his forehead, unsure of what he was saying. "Do you still... remember me? We've talked a few times..."

Crecyda took a cautious step back. "Did you get into a fight?" She shifted to the side, allowing more light from inside to illuminate Reynar's face. "That swelling looks awful."

"I just fell... that's all. The front of your shop is too slippery."

She started to head back inside. As she stepped through the doorframe, Renner grabbed her right wrist.

"What are you doing?" She pulled away.

"Tell Eileen... that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that bet."

"I don't know what you two bet on. And I'm not interested in anything a drunk has to say. Customers come in through the front door; drunks skulk around the back, and we don't serve them. You'd better go see a doctor. Hey, are you listening...?"

The truth was, Renner couldn't hear much. He only vaguely grasped that Crecyda was trying to make him understand something. Her lips moved rapidly, the light from inside playing over her rough-spun dress. In his mind, he filled in the words she hadn't said, imagining comfort where there was none. Suddenly, he saw his father standing behind her. The hallucination became sharply vivid, like a relief carved into the night. His father always held his head slightly lowered, a posture that projected authority. Renner couldn't recall ever seeing him smile, but now the hallucination of his father wore a faint grin, the wrinkles on his face bunching together like a tangle of worms, forming a smile that made Renner shudder.

"Cressida. Crecyda," he tried to warn her, to tell her to avoid the loathsome figure behind her.

"If you don't leave, I'm calling for help."

Later, Renner could never remember how he misunderstood that statement. He responded, "Stay with me for the night. Help me... forget..."

Before he could finish, he collapsed forward. Crecyda quickly darted back inside, slamming the door shut. Renner crashed down onto the steps, his head ringing. Amidst the noise, a single rational thought emerged: "I can't sleep here." He sat up, resting his back against the door. It felt oddly comfortable, so he made no effort to move further. A few seconds later, the door opened from inside. Losing his support, Renner fell backward, his head hitting the ground. Though the pain was sharp, it didn't stop him from passing out.

The next day, Renner awoke around noon. The first thing he saw was a small insect buzzing in front of his eyes. He was lying in a bed, staring up at a grayish-white ceiling with cracks running through it. Before he could recall what had happened the night before, he heard the sound of a door opening and tried to sit up. His body didn't quite obey, and his head felt like it had been kneaded into a lump of cotton. He barely lifted his chin, catching sight of Crecyda out of the corner of his eye. She was standing beside the bed, holding a tray.

Renner closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his left hand. "Is this your room?"

"In your dreams. This is the guest room. The owner's put it on your tab."

She placed a cup of hot tea on the bedside table. "Drink this when you feel like it."

"Thanks."

"No need to thank me. It's going on your tab too."

"But... I should thank you for something. Last night, I thought I'd be stuck out in the cold, completely stripped bare by beggars. You brought me here, didn't you?"

"I couldn't have carried you. Thank the cook. He's the one who dragged you here."

"I remember my face was filthy. Someone must've cleaned me up."

"That's just because I didn't want the sheets to get too dirty. Washing them would be a hassle."

"Well, at least you didn't leave me outside."

"If the town watch saw someone in uniform passed out at the back door, we'd have a problem."

"Oh, well... never mind, I give up."

"If you're really grateful, thank me for not telling Eileen you were here. For now, at least."

Renner gave a faint, resigned smile. "I don't really care."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, if she has any ideas about me being in this room, I wouldn't care."

"Is that so? Well, she cares."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You broke her heart."

"No, I mean..."

Renner stopped speaking. After a brief silence, he tried to sit up again, but as soon as he lifted himself halfway, a wave of nausea hit him, forcing him to stop.

Crecyda said, "You'd better lie back down."

"Good idea."

After lying back down, he said, "You don't have to watch over me. I'll leave as soon as I feel better. It's already noon? The sun's quite strong..."

"No one's watching over you, I'm just curious," she said while pulling the curtains closed. "Out of your whole lot, I always thought you were the leader. How did you end up like this?"

"Sounds like you've been observing me."

"Don't flatter yourself. You always sat in the middle of them, that's all."

"Did I really look like the leader..." Renner reflected on the past year. He had been relatively popular, especially among the less wealthy but hard-working students. But gradually, without realizing it, he had distanced himself from that group and started mingling with students who came from noble families and had their futures neatly arranged. It was these very students who had beaten him last night. He thought to himself, perhaps growing up in a materially rich household had instilled in him a tendency to gravitate toward aristocratic circles. To break free from that tendency, it might take stripping away more than just pride.

"Is this kind of thing uncommon? I mean, students getting into fights?"

"Not really. But you don't seem like the type who'd be on the receiving end."

"Oh, right. You just said I look like a leader. A gang of underlings deciding to knock their boss down to the ground."

"That's the impression. And honestly, I'm a little glad for Eileen's sake."

Renner wanted to know why Crecyda cared so much about Eileen, but that wasn't his main concern at the moment. "They did it mainly because I'm leaving soon," he said, waiting for her to ask him why.

He hoped she would say, "Why?" So he could respond, "My father's forcing me to drop out." If she asked "Why?" again, he'd say more, unloading all the things weighing on his heart. Renner needed this conversation. Before returning to his father's authoritarian world, he wanted to leave behind at least one trace of his existence, a single echo. If he could just get it out, he wouldn't care if Crecyda laughed at him, dismissed him, or even berated him. It wouldn't matter. If she didn't ask, he might say it all on his own because he knew his time was running out. His dreams, disappointments, efforts, and frustrations—someone else had to know, besides just himself. That person didn't have to be Crecyda, but he felt that this woman, who had provided him a refuge on a cold night when he was filthy with mud, might just be the one willing to listen.

But Crecyda didn't ask. Instead, she said, "You stay put. I've got work to do," and walked toward the door. Renner closed his eyes again, covering his forehead with his left hand. Had I asked for too much? Yet, when he heard her footsteps pause by the door, his hope reignited. He lifted himself up and called out, "Crecyda, wait..."

Renner didn't finish his sentence. Crecyda stood frozen at the door, staring blankly at Durado Marvin, who had just entered the room.

"Miss, could you step outside for a moment? I have something to discuss with my son." Durado removed his hat and bowed firmly toward Crecyda. Once the hat, adorned with phoenix feathers, was back on his head, he locked eyes with Renner.

"Look at you, an utter disgrace," Durado said before Crecyda had even stepped out of the room.