“When the lass and Captain had only first met…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

They tossed and tussled and scratched like cats!

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

When the lass and Captain met once again…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

They flirted and fought and she knocked him flat!

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

The Knights would drink and fight and curse,

while the tavern keeper filled up his purse.

They love their captain and they love their ale,

but most of all they love chasing tail!

On their third meeting he bought her drinks…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

But the booze went down a bottomless sink!

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

With a wink to her boss and water in her cup…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

She smiled to the Captain and led him up!

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

The Knights would drink and fight and curse,

while the tavern keeper filled up his purse.

They love their captain and they love their ale,

but most of all they love chasing tail!

The captain was enamored by the lass so fine…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

But she asked to his Knights ‘who’s next in line?’

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

The heartbroken Captain started making a scene…

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

Til’ the bouncers showed up to make him leave!

Throw back your flagons and pay your coin!

The Knights would drink and fight and curse,

while the tavern keeper filled up his purse.

They fought for their Captain but were drunk and failed,

now they’re bruised, hungover, and sleeping in jail!”

The rowdy song came to an end to the cheering of the crowd. Syron gave a cheerful, though ackward bow while his background flutes and bongos faded out, before stumbling down off the stage. Aleala gave him a shocked expression and a round of excited clapping. His singing was surprisingly clear despite his situation.

“That was Syron with ‘Honey Trap Tavern’, an original work. I hope it doesn’t catch on… At the behest of my wife, I feel inclined to remind you all that the Kanouki Rous does not offer prostitution services. If you discretely slip us coins, we’ll be keeping them and offering you nothing in return. You have been warned.” Gerald, one of the owners of the tavern said after marching up onto the now empty stage.

“That went over better than I expected!” Syron announced over the noisy room with the faintest of slurring. Aleala was still gaping. The ‘Honey Trap Tavern’ was at least better than the first song he sang. ‘Dude, where’s my carriage?’ was a strange, upbeat melody about a pair of loser siblings trying to piece together what they did the previous night. It could rot in hell for all she was concerned. Fortunately for Syron, at least, the crowd was so tipsy from his ‘free rounds’ they just cheered instead of wondering where the flautist or drummer was hiding. Aleala suspected a less inebriated crowd might not have so easily accepted the ghost musicians.

“Same here… you really wrote those songs?” She asked incredulously. Even if saying Syron was merely ‘strange’ was a severe understatement, that still doesn’t make the leap to writing bawdry songs about tricking a Knight into paid intercourse.

“Of course! They weren’t exactly ‘My Heart will go on’, you know? Oh! I could do that one next if I can figure out how to make the lyrics work. A girl I used to know pretty much ruined it for me for a long time, but I’ve gotten over those childish hang ups by now. Ah… this all sounds like more work than it is worth… What do you think? Is it too much work? Maybe I should just recreate the original? Translating and mashing the lyrics into a form that sounds decent can be hard, you know?” Syron rambled slightly incoherently while sipping on his ‘juice’, his face cracking into a huge grin before he started giggling.

Finally noticing Syron’s state, Renee appeared and sniffed his cup.

“What the?! How did the Young Master get liquor?!” Renee started examining everyone nearby with a frosty glare.

“I thought that fruit juice tasted a little butt-like.” Syron added helpfully.

“I did not notice any strange taste from the drink before…” Kasumi added from beside Syron. She had ‘poison tested’ the drink already.

“Dunno. I noticed him acting strange but I thought it was just the atmosphere in the room getting to him. They are super busy right now… maybe they just accidentally gave him the wrong drink?” Renee seemed slightly mollified by that logic, as it was entirely plausible. There were absolutely enough people in the tavern to constitute a fire hazard. That didn’t make her happy about it. Especially at the ‘poison tester’.

“Gerald and Arnold are going to hear about this. Marigold, what do you think we should do?” Seated at the table directly behind Syron, Marigold was calmly sipping tea. She looked up at Renee’s yelled question without changing her facial expression. Nearly ten seconds later she just shrugged and went back to focusing on her tea.

“Ugh. Fine. Come on Young Master. I’m taking you home.” Renee took Syron’s hand and helped him up, but he slipped from her grasp and fell into a surprised Aleala, draping his arms around her neck roughly.

“Sorry…” He said while giggling. She just smiled and shook her head. Renee got him steadied, apologized to Aleala, then started heading for the door.

“You’re a little young to be acting like drunken trash and throwing yourself at girls too good for you, don’t you think?” An angry boy wearing an Avia uniform shouts over the din while he stands in Renee’s way. If his face wasn’t scrunched up in disgust and fury, he might even have been considered handsome.

“Think so?” Syron asked with a grin, his feet unsteady. Renee led him past the scowling boy, pushing him physically away when he wouldn’t move. He stumbled backwards and caught himself on the back of a chair. The chair’s occupant turned around and gave the boy a dirty look, but didn’t say anything further.

“How dare you! A trash bodyguard for a trash noble! When I am Head of the Eastern House, you’ll suffer for your mistreatment of me!” The boy all but screamed. Within a moment, Brekt Alpers was there, holding the boy’s shoulder back and with his hand raised towards the Knights in a placating gesture.

“Casey here has just experimented with drinking tonight, and doesn’t realize what he’s saying. Obviously, the Forrester House will continue to live on normally, so no need to replace them!” Brekt shouted quickly with a pleading look at Syron.

Syron started giggling again.

“That was a funny joke, Combsley. As if anything could ever happen to that terrifying… monster seems rude… woman, I call Mom! Pffttt!”

That was it. Syron walked off with two Knights, a maid, and Aleala helping him while Brekt let out a huge sigh of relief.

Well that could have been dangerous.

* * * * *

“Um… why is Lord Forrester wearing a blindfold?” A girl asked her tablemate. He always seemed to know such interesting gossip, she couldn’t help but wonder who his source was.

“I heard he’s practicing his magic without looking. Like… some sort of sensory deprivation training for illusions.” Her tablemate said with authority. He hadn’t heard anything of the sort, but it was the sort of fun rumor he thought should be spread around.

“&#######@$! Stop shouting!” Syron complained loudly in their direction. They seemed a little surprised, given that they were whispering normally, but it also wasn’t the first strange thing he had done.

“(omitted) (omitted) monkey (omitted)! I’m not sure when I drank last night, but I’m never doing it again until I have an adult body. This friggin’ sucks. I can’t even focus long enough to lower the sunbeams shooting directly into my retina!” Syron complained again while a concerned Brekt and a smirking Aleala approached his seat.

“Lord Alpers, did you ever imagine Syron was so dramatic?” Aleala asked, trying not to laugh at Syron wincing at her voice. She felt a little bad for spiking his drink the previous night, but not enough to forgo enjoying making his hangover experience absolutely dreadful.

“Ah… well… last night was quite the… um… Lord Forrester, it seems that Casey isn’t present in school today. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? He’s normally quite diligent in attending classes.” Brekt asked, the implication heavy.

“Who?” Syron asked with genuine confusion.

“Casey… he has no surname. Last night he got a little drunk and made some insinuations about your family?” Brekt continued, his voice low and steady.

“No idea who that is. Is he in this class?”

“Yes, he normally sits next to me in the back.”

“Oh. Well, no idea. To be honest, I don’t really care what people think about me or my family, so I wouldn’t have noticed even if I wasn’t inexplicably drunk. Ugh… I hate drinking. Liquor is gross and I’ve always been such a light weight.” Syron said, his voice miserable and his eyes still covered with a strip of cloth. Aleala and Brekt both looked at each other and wondered how young he started drinking alcohol for him to have ‘always been such a light weight’. Nine? Maybe that’s why he was in a coma for a year?

“Well, if you do not know anything, it can not be helped. I apologize for taking up your time.” Brekt said, though he still looked a little uneasy. He turned to leave but Syron stopped him.

“Hey… I understand where you’re coming from… but I really don’t care what he said. I don’t even remember it, which is a new experience for me. I’ve never once in my life been black out drunk before so yeah…

“Anyway, if he’s not here, and he really did get a little wasted last night, maybe he’s scared of retribution and he’s hiding out? Or maybe he’s just embarrassed. I dunno. If you see him, tell him I’m not angry or whatever. This whole conversation is giving me a headache. I’m going to go back to trying to get calming beach sounds to appear in my head. Or I’m going to murder the sunlight. One of the two.” Syron said to a retreating Brekt. To tell the truth, Syron figured if something bad did happen to Casey, it was more likely because he was wandering around drunk instead of because of something Syron did. Maybe he would just wake up under a pile of newspapers in an alleyway several miles from his house? It’s also not crazy to take a day off school because of a hangover. It’s stupid to drink on a school night… but it’s not stupid to know you won’t get anything from the lessons anyway. Besides… who in Syron’s entourage would do the deed? Marigold is too indifferent and also weak, Renee is too honorable slash normal, and Kasumi wouldn’t have had enough time to pull herself from Syron’s butt to go murder a child and make it back without anyone noticing. It was just crazy.

Aleala, however, felt differently. If, in a drunken stupor, Syron actually did order the death of Casey, Aleala was a responsible party! In an effort to drag out some of his secrets, she had introduced to his drink a toxin that would mimic the effects of drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

Though, if Casey turns out to be fine like Syron suggested, the information payoff was definitely worth it. Syron Forrester definitely has something strange going on, and Aleala was determined to figure it out. What language are all these songs in that he needs to ‘translate’ them? How does he understand this language well enough to interpret its music’s lyrics? How is it that a boy that allegedly has amnesia is able to remember songs no one else has ever heard before?

Whatever the reason, Aleala Gamete would figure the mystery out. Her livelihood depended on it.