Some hours before the attack on Little Russia
A empty tankard clattered on a once-polished drink counter marred by the enthusiastic mashing of patrons and spilled alcohol. The container's last owner slumped against the surface, her cheek smushed and her hair half-fallen over her face. Edelgard bleeted in dissatisfaction, "More."
The yellow lights hanging off the wooden beams supporting the ceiling, reflecting off the clouded windows of the tavern, and the sound of chatter and chugging drink through the benches and tables, almost gave the scene a serendipitous warmth, but the air of careless listnessness around the girl ruined that.
The swarthy man serving the drinks sighed, scratching at the bun holding his hair for a moment. "Miss, I don't know what's got you so beat down, but I can't keep pouring for you like this," he said, leaning forward.
"Yes. Too light. Need stronger drink. No hydra liquor here? Giant's bowel?" She continued, ignoring the issue.
The barman laid his hands on the counter, now close enough for his beard to brush her. He grumbled, "Listen, I'm not going to give you any more until -" but a loud shifting sound interrupted him. The floor, the counter, and Edelgard's chair all creaked precariously as she bent down and grabbed a massive weight shaped like a polearm from where it rested by her side. And brought its blade half an inch from the man's throat.
She looked up at him with an impatient flush, and everyone else in the bar winced. "More." The man merely gulped, shrinking his belly, and ducked behind the counter to get her some of the heavy stuff.
Edelgard laid down the spear with a heavy thump. Everyone understood this language. It was good. She licked her lips at the expectation of a drink heavy enough to drive away sad thoughts and proceeded to enjoy the service as the next tankard was flopped in front of her.
Edelgard
Hours later, the shaking, yelling, and smells of smoke and corruption roused the forsaken lancer from a sleep she had no memory of falling into. She rose sluggishly from a disheveled heap over drool-stained, folded arms, and stumbled down from her seat, biting the inside of her mouth.
"Noisy crap," she said, picking up her spear and walking towards the door of the mostly deserted bar.
