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His boots made a thump on the wooden floor
As the neon gleam of his helm
Lit his way across the room
I motion him over
And hand him a drink
The helmet doesn’t come off
But the tilt is something new
As I hear a coo
The mercenary’s son peaks out
From behind the armoury on his back
I slide a bowl over to his waiting hands
A familiar song and dance
As the kid’s gigantic ears wiggle in delight
We’ve done this a time or two
None of us admit to what is on the news
That the mercenary has hung up his spurs
Claiming spear and sword
And I forget that this man is a king
Over warring factions
That I swore my allegiance to
We three in this moment
Are just a barkeep
Customers made from a clan of two
I listen as they savor
One his brew
The little one his stew
As he gestures wildly as he marks his story’s point
Telling me about his wizard school
Before his father shushes him
As the bell rings its midnight toll
Telling him it’s time to go to home
He leaves a generous tip
As I tell him that I will see him later
Locking up shop behind them
Though if he asks
For them, I’m always open