The Bald Dwarf Whiskey was amazing, but the stew wasn't its match, not even close. Setting the spoon back in the bowl with some disdain, the burgundy-skinned, golden-eyed tiefling peered through the amber liquid of his third shot like it was a crystal ball. The glass filled with memories as the ancient ritual, performed by those drinking alone, began—he considered his life choices.
Simmer grew up near Eiselcross, the son of a renowned vinter who crafted exquisite wines from the orchards that bordered the Shivermaw—Darius' Everfrost, an ice wine of some renown. As a child, he dreamed of adventure, though his heart remained with his father's trade.
At 16, duty and honor called. The king, Skollgat Orcslayer, called for warriors from the kingdom. Simmer, at some cost to his father, was summoned to be a squire to the local liege lord—a knight by the name of Sir Eldrik Greymoore.
The knight was known for his swordsmanship and his tales of adventure, which captivated Simmer. That first year with his mentor filled his heart with joy even now, like sweet wine remembered rather than tasted.
In time, Sir Greymoore became torn between responsibility and the revelry he so loved, falling victim to the temptations of gambling and lust. The noble's tales and deeds gradually faded, and the knight's reputation tarnished like lost, forgotten fruit at winter's dawn. Simmer had done his best to try and keep his lord on the path of glory, but he was still young himself and could do little to change the trajectory of fate.
The tiefling angrily drained memories from the glass in a single pull. “Bartender, another!” The new drink continued the tale, as it always does. He swirled the glass to coax it.
Bound by honor and duty, Simmer still found happiness in this turbulent time when Eldrik would regale him with tales of his own youth and of places far and foreign. These moments became ever more fleeting. One evening, pushing his luck, Eldrik, desperate for a big win, gambled away what he still had left—his title and lands—to pay his debt to the Scarlet Square. Realizing his grave error, he clashed with his creditors and their enforcer, a half-elf known as The Lamplighter. Eldrik became violent after drinking too much. The half-elf met his aggression with cool retaliation, which saw the end of the knight's life and left a squire with no mentor and no path.
In the weeks that followed, Simmer felt lost, abandoned, and full of vengeful desire—but he also felt burdened by the fallen legacy of his mentor that he now carried by association.
Simmer burned with the heat of the whiskey as he consumed the drink and it's memories.
The tiefling stood from the bar unsteady, glaring at the glasses and their empty memories—they'd won this round. Simmer pulled a silver coin and tossed it to the counter where it rolled into a haphazard spin. The Lazereth-minted silver coin landed skull up with finality—its gaze meeting his.
Simmer left the Trade Square tavern, the noon light of spring causing his golden eyes to squint.
He wandered the market for a time, watching the people full of purpose, working and collecting the sweet nectar of their labors. With this, he wondered what he should do and where he could go. Certainly not back home, else he would be painted a failure in his quest for his own glory. He couldn't bear the look in his father's eyes in that.
It was noon, and the second meal of the day broke in the market square, filling it with the wafting aromas of delicious foods. The scents brought fond memories of his childhood that the whiskey could not. Dreams of traveling, adventuring, and testing his skills of cooking and winemaking on the open road.
“Wine can heal wounds,” his father would tell him. “Food can open doors.” Simmer filled his lungs with the aromas of a hundred meals as he took a breath, eyes closed.
A bell rang through the market as he opened his eyes peering over the square, he saw a merchant caravan looking for guards. “And travel,” he thought to himself, “will remind my heart of what joy there is through the sharing of wine, food, and company.”
In this moment, he realized he could find the balance that his master had lost—balance between joy and duty, indulgence and wisdom. As a paladin of Sylvester, his lord's gifts were not about indulging to excess, but living a good life and spreading that passion with others. And so he knew, he would create glorious feasts, brew the most exotic of wines, and hear the most beautiful music.
One day, people would sip of his tales, find joy, and smile.