The Handmaiden's Basket

[Enter from The Northern Gate]

Imisar and company enter The Handmaiden's Basket. Abdul el-Rahman de Frontière immediately greets the party, first giving a bear hug to Iulia before shaking the hands of each student. He stops before the sentient suit of armor and, without missing a beat, salutes smartly. He consults the grand ledger book and makes several flourishes with a quill.

“Everything is in order! We have your preferred table selected for you Ambassador Iotapa. Right this way, if you please."

The table, situated in the far right corner of the tavern proves a slight trek. Staff dance around each other and patrons, gracing each table with their orders, drinks, and a well-timed serviette or two as needed. The atmosphere is at once dignified and comfortable. A small stage opposite the grand hearth is empty, but a sign to the left advertises the rotating list of entertainment. Tonight there will be an up and coming singer-songwriter duo singing classical folk songs from the Far North.

The students, having only heard of The Handmaiden's Basket as if it were a far-off country they might someday get to visit, gaze around hungrily. One man sitting at a centrally located position captures their attention for quite a few moments. He appears to be a laborer of some sort, sporting a tidy white neckerchief over a bright blue jerkin. He casts a few gazes over to the very corner of the tavern where sits an oil brush and can. Around him, his compatriots laugh and chat freely. Several students mentioned the term ‘wall oiler,’ prompting Iulia to smile.

“Pardon me for one moment, if you would.”

Iulia quickly strides over to the man and shakes his hand warmly. A signal given to an unseen member of the wait staff produces another round of ale to find its way to the table quickly. Iulia returns and launches into a quick explanation.

“The Mason’s Guild has a new hero today. He pulled off a marvelously tricky piece of work with an unwanted guest at the Citadel.”

Menus decorate the table. On each, there are exactly six items and six separate drinks listed. For every day, the menus change to reflect the available specials. Tonight, the theme is fish and seafood, freshly brought in from Port Silverion.

Iulia orders first, selecting the Tilapia ceviche with Roma tomatoes and peppers and a white rum Mojito with guarapo, mango puree, garnished with a sprig of freshly picked mint.

The students order next after some minor deliberation.

The hostess turns her attention to Imisar and nods.

“I do realize that you might not eat in the same way that your average human may. I do know that Madam Frontière has some more exotic forms of nutrition for the few beings we get that have different dietary needs. I could inquire if you were so inclined?”

Selene's shoes clacked slightly against the floor as she entered the tavern. Her sleeves drifted against her arms, as she smiled. "Do I need to request a spot at this tavern, or should I just stroll in? I'm a bit famished, I'm afraid."

Muffinton thanked the lady guard that had followed him so far and bowed for her before turning his attention back to the Tavern itself. It seemed that from this point on he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, as long as he was holding the small pass in his front pocket. But even thought that sounded very tempting, he had never been in such a luxurious environment, that glass of warm milk sounded even better to him at this right moment.

So he made his way to the bar and hopped onto one of the stools that was far enough from the ruckus that was made from the drinking game. He placed his cane on the bar, simply because if he put it on the ground he would not be able to pick it up again. He followed several of the barmaids with his eyes, until he found one that pleased him. "My lady, could I humbly request a glass a warm milk? A small glass, if you would be kind enough." He winked.

Muffinton was very pleased to see the barmaid to get right to his request. Soon he was warming his paw pads again the glass with warm milk, there was even some nice foam on the top of it. It really showed what an excellent establishment he had found himself in.

He lifted the milk glass to his mouth, holding it with both his paws. The lack of thumbs was still something that troubled him greatly, but there was nothing he could do about it. He took a generous sip and sighed satisfied. He then licked his lip to remove the milky foam from his lips and whiskers before putting it down again. He was going to enjoy this glass of milk. He knew he could easily get another glass, but the first one of the night was always the best in his opinion.

All the while the cat would keep his eyes darting the room, looking at every human he could lay his hands on. He lingered on the ladies, but would also look at the men that passed by. Almost as if he was looking for something in particular. If only Bagugu had been here. He hated to admit it, but he missed his old friend.

The page boy in the white tunic returns to The Handmaiden’s Basket to fetch The Empress’s next visitor. This time, it’s a woman named Selene. After a brief discussion with the barkeep, he has the woman’s description: white lady, with white hair, purple eyes.

It’s a not exactly a common set of traits, so it doesn’t take long for him to find her.

“Lady Selene?” He selects the prefix based on her attire. “The Empress will see you now. Please come with me.”

Muffinton would look up as his name was called out. Even though the person who called him was just a boy, he was still much taller than himself. But even so, Muffinton was used to be being the smallest in the room. He sighed and looked at his glass of ice cold milk. It was still half full as he had been savoring the taste of it. He was sad that he couldn't finish it, but of course, the Empress had been the reason why he had come and he soon found himself wondering what she would look like.

He took one last sip from his glass of milk and then shoved it a bit towards the other end of the bar, letting them know he was done with it. He took a leap of the barstool, landing on four paws before he straightened himself up and again and placed the cane under him to balance his weight. "Well then boy, show me the way."

As Norian breezed into the tavern, Lucia took her leave from a game of dice and moved to the front counter. It had been far too long since Handmaiden's had served an elf. Lucia fondly remembered the elven family who lived next door during her childhood. They had always baked the best bread.

"Welcome to The Handmaiden's Basket, 'potential suitor for Lady Naoki'. My name is Lucia de Kasbah. We have a corner table open, should you wish to stay a while."

The landlady eyed the silver symbol dangling from around the neck of Norian. She faintly recalled having seen the symbol before, but couldn't quite recall where. The thought is pushed from her mind as she makes a few marks in her massive ledger.

The back-draft following Norian's swift exit pulls a few strands of de Kasbah's greying hair loose, sending them drifting down over her face. She motions for el-Rahman to come take over at the front of house whilst she searches the wine cellar for Norian’s drink.

Silver Leaf, not the most popular of wines. A few cults occasionally use Silver Leaf in festival libations, but it is hardly a wine one drinks for fun. Down in the cellar, hiding under a substantial coating of dust, de Kasbah finds a few bottles of the stuff.

She takes two bottles up to the bar, wraps one in a clean linen towel, and brings it to Norian’s table.

“Here is your Silver Leaf,” de Kasbah announces, allowing Norian to look over the label. She uncorks the bottle and pours into the full, round bowl of the glass, delicately rolling the bottle at the last second as the pour finishes to catch any drips. She leaves the bottle at the table and tucks the linen towel into the back of her apron.

“Will there be anything else for you?”

The drink rests in the glass, sitting contentedly. From the sunlight streaming in from a nearby window, the glass seems to glow with a deep crimson.