When I good Gentlemen came to the Bar...

Annalise looked at the door, then to the cook and then back at the door. She shook her head, and picked up the plate of steaming steak and potatoes. Half a dozen tables spotted the room, each made of the same beige wood as the ceiling, and each having stood the abuse of being danced on, turned over, and thrown over course of a night’s revelry.

She sat the plate down next to a small figure huddled up on the rug besides the roaring fire place. He was wrapped in a thick gray blanket and sat with his knees right next to his chest. She left the plate of potatoes beside him on the rug, to which he glanced up and murmured the vaguest thanks, and turned back to the counter for the next load.

Beer this time. She grabbed up the two mugs and walked over to the laughing pair. Both of them looked as if they had seen their fair share of cows in their life. Their hands were raw and their hair pulled back into tight knots. Their boots were muddied and their trousers filthy. The only thing clean they had on were faces, which Annalise imagined, their wives had vigorously scrubbed moments before they left the house. They turned to her as she set down their beers and one of them joked: “I’ll give ye my two best cows if you marry my son, young lass.” The other laughed at his comment, she smiled and turned away.

The other five tables in the bar were empty; the sun hadn’t yet sunk beneath the horizon. The door swung opened banged against the wall. Where it used to be, a man now stood. There are a few schools to thought to door opening, this man was apparently of the let-the-entire-world-know-where-you-are school, Annalise though. He stood in the door frame, and at least according to Annalise wanted to make sure the entire world knew who had so viciously conquered over the mighty force of the door handle. No doubt the other four patrons were cowering in fear at this awe inspiring master who had cleverly discovered how to turn the handle and push! He shouted: “Give me some ale!” And promptly sprawled out into one of the chairs.

One brawler in. A few more to go. The door opened this time, a well dressed gentleman, his back straight as an arrow. Without a callous to call his own, he sat down full of poise and looked ahead at the roaring fire. While the man who walked in front of him slouched onto the chair, his body girded with thick muscles, ready for the nightly brawl, the man who just walked in sat straight up in his chair, his skin hanging tightly onto his bones, and his body ready to run at the first sign of the brawl.

Before she could take his order, the shouts of men drifted in from outside. The door opened just as the last rays of the sun drifted down from the hill and a band of soldiers came walking through. Six of them, each as primped as the one before him, came in sporting red tunics of the king. They laughed and sat down at the tables calling for food and ale. They were going to be the meat of today’s brawl. Annalise considered them for a moment and decided, they were the meat of today’s brawl: the people who kept the fight going.

The door opened and closed and a man stood there and on his head stood a hat with a single feather on it, tipped to the side. He walked with a slanted gate as if he had a sword hanging by his side. With only a single glance at the inhabitants of the room, the six soldiers, the blacksmith, the state’s man, the two farmers, the fellow by the fire, the cook and Annalise, he walked over to the empty seat by the gentleman’s table and sat down next to him. His walk remained Annalise of someone she had once known. A long time ago a general had walked into to town. He walked just as this man did: confidently and boldly.

She started at him for a while not able to get his face out of her head. She felt like she knew him from somewhere, yet she couldn’t place where. As he sat there talking to the gentleman in hushed tones she thought about it for a while. Then she knew it. She walked up to the cook and said: “To coppers on the fellow who just walked in.” She slipped the coins onto the table. You always bet on the guy with the funny hat.