"Just because you found something new to occupy your time, doesn't mean you'd forget the old that you've missed all this time." - Saying attributed to the Silver Maiden.

A tavern in the city of Istberg

Istria Jarldom

South-eastern Ur-Teros

6th day of the 3rd week, 4th month of the year 179 VA.

Aideen was drinking quietly in the tavern's bar that evening. She had just performed one of her more melancholic songs a while ago, and the bard whose turn it was after her smartly decided to play calm, melodious ballads after he took one look at the room's mood.

A smart choice.

Even if the melodious local love ballads he sang dredged out more memories from the bottom of her heart. Memories she looked at with fondness, yet also with sadness, since they were from the past, made with someone long gone now.

Partly because of that, Aideen had allowed the alcohol to hit her with its full effects that day, instead of keeping it to just a pleasant buzz. It was the sort of day when she was just in the mood to drown herself in drink and sleep a dreamless sleep.

Seeing one of Maria's descendants in what used to be Napris a month ago inadvertently made her think of Artair. So had the therian-human couples she saw in the region - they were not uncommon, as the many races of the east mingled freely to work together in surviving the harsh lands they inhabit - which brought back memories.

In Istria itself, a month after all hostilities ceased, the mood was jubilant. Such a mood was present even in the newly annexed territories. Lower taxes and promises of better treatment from their new liege - who had visited the villages personally on his way back home - had done wonders to the morale of the villagers.

Apparently the Jarl of Istria had been one of the kinder rulers to his people, compared with his neighbors. Part of his generosity was because he could afford it, thanks to the newfound prosperity from trade with the Lichdom.

His people just welcomed said prosperity with jubilation, of course. The reason mattered little for them. They even quickly embraced the traders who would come over with undead escorts without being bothered by the skeletons present.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

For most of the peasantry principles and ideals were of little concern, as they brought no food to the tables. Whereas there were still some supporters of the old Jarl amongst the ministers of the Jarldom, who had shunned the undead, they were being weeded out of positions of importance by people loyal to the new Jarl.

"Feelin' sad today, huh lassie?" asked the tavern's owner, a middle-aged human matron with some orcish blood named Regina, as she placed a new tankard of mead before Aideen at the bar. "Ye don't usually sing that one jes now."

"Sort of," she admitted bluntly. Since Aideen had stayed in the tavern - it had rooms upstairs and doubled as a small inn - for the past week and got quite well acquainted with Regina. "Sorry to rain on your parade."

"Eh, 'tis fine," shrugged the matron off with a sad smile. The middle-aged woman was a widow - her husband lost to a different war over a decade ago - and ran the tavern together with her two daughters and their husbands. One of her son-in-laws had not returned from the recent war. "It's not like everybody got to celebrate. Fer some of us… those who were gone ain't never coming back."

"No… they never would," said Aideen with a melancholic sigh as she drained her tankard. Despite her "help", around one out of every ten men and women who had fought with their Jarl had met their end in the battle. While most of Istria rejoiced in the victory, five hundred or so families mourned their losses. "They never would…"

"Aye, indeed," sighed Regina in reply. In all honesty despite the loss of her son-in-law, the tavern itself was doing even better than before. The Jarl had paid a very generous sum as compensation to the families who lost their loved ones, enough for the matron to employ more people to take up the slack from her lost son-in-law.

Her older daughter, the one who had lost her husband and father of her four children, had been devastated, but recovered her poise within a day after she received the news. Losses as such were commonplace for the people of these harsh lands, and they were… used to it.

Apparently this was not even the first time Regina's older daughter lost her husband. She had lost her first husband to a bear when he went out hunting nearly a decade ago, and had remarried to her new husband - with whom she had her younger two children - a year after.

Unlike many places Aideen knew of - namely some regions of eastern Elmaiya and many of the northern nations - widows were not looked upon with disfavor in the east. In fact, widows who already had children, and were still in their childbearing years, were quite desired as partners, as they had proven their fertility.

As such, a young widow in her early thirties with four children like Regina's daughter was actually quite likely to find herself a new husband in a relatively short time. For the locals, the loss of a partner and finding a new one was just a simple fact of life.

"Either way, if ye feel like drowning yer sorrows, I understand, lassie," said Regina as she plied a new tankard of strong mead over to replace Aideen's empty one. "I dinnae bout yer losses, but ye look'd just like me own girl when she got the news last month. So drink up!"

"Thanks… Regina," she said as she chugged down the contents of the tankard in one long draw. The mead was sweet, of a cloying honeyed sweetness, yet the harsh kick of alcohol undercut the sweetness well. The sort of thing that'd drop a light drinker with a single mug, and it was her dozenth or so for the night. She let out a satisfied sigh after she drained the tankard, and somewhat drunkenly gestured for a new one.

"And don't ye worry bout passing out here," said Regina as she brought over the next tankard of mead. "If ye drank yerself out cold, me old bones are still tuff enuff to haul yer carcass over to yer room."

The last line had been only partly in jest. Aideen had informed the matron of her being an unliving rather openly. She smiled to the matron's jest as she raised her tankard for a toast and drank deep into it.