“So, Cap, what do you think of the current situation?”

Jenyr was getting drunk, and was only somewhat certain that he had been paying attention. He was pretty certain he had heard the lieutenant's question correctly. Knowing the question itself wasn't terribly helpful; he hadn't really been paying attention to what “the current situation” could possibly refer to.

But in the end, did it really matter at all? The Situation was...

He focused. He found it somehow remarkable that he realised he was no longer staring at the back wall of the tavern. He blinked and, for some reason, had a clear view of what was going on – sometimes he surprised himself when he was drunk. He realised, with alarming clarity, that he was sitting in the tavern with fellow guardsmen.

What was he doing here? It took some time for his brain to catch up with things. He had been patrolling the streets with a group of his men, and in the end of their shift, they had popped in this tavern for a bit to eat. And drink. Especially drink.

So what was going on? The clock in the corner – oh, this was a classy place – was ticking along and said it was moments past Evenbreak. Jenyr slowly woke up to realise he was in the Old Cellar. Yes, Bragen the Stout's place. The basement windows, with their curious windows, were a big hint. Years ago, he had wondered about the thick glass tiles on the side of the street above, and had been curious about what was under the tiles. Memories...

He looked around, squinted through the blur. The tavern was relatively quiet, but the day was only now coming to an end. More people were coming in all the time. Someone – Bragen himself, probably, Jenyr wasn't sure – was behind the counter, apparently readying another round for Jenyr's men – or perhaps that other large group of people in the other corner. They seemed to have fun. Bragen seemed to be happy. Everyone was having fun.

And today, he had been patrolling. Everywhere he went with his men, the people had behaved themselves. Many were happy and even cheerful. Even the pickpocket they had arrested was very civil about the whole affair.

And that was not just that afternoon. The week had gone without any incidents at all.

No bad news from the countryside. No news, at all, that would have indicated some local lord had gone crazy. No news of crazy wizards kidnapping people for vile experiments. Just shipments of milk, grain and produce. No wars brewing; the Tachur fleet had not been seen and no corpses of spies hanged from the palace walls.

Life was good. Well, a bit uneventful, not really boring – but basically good. If the situation was this, what really could be said about it? It was hard to explain all this... and how come that lieutenant was sober enough to ask him any smart questions, anyway?

“Damn if I know”, Jenyr said.