Isekai Hero Bartender

"Lady Talia! Why, what a welcome surprise to see you here!"

Shivai's voice was dripping with forced sincerity. Her demonic tail whipped behind her with agitation, like a cat's when you pet it the wrong way. I looked up to see the dragonkin constable pause at the threshold, almost nervous to take another step in.

"Come on over. I saved your spot." I motioned for her to grab a stool at the corner of the bar.

The tension in her shoulders relaxed somewhat, and she ducked her head lightly in greeting as she wordlessly made her way toward me. I couldn't help but notice that she didn't return the greeting to our newest employee, and that, as usual, she seemed rather uncomfortable around crowds when she wasn't in her full law enforcement regalia.

There were a few other notable differences, too. It wasn't just that she was unburdened by the partial plate mail covering her chest and shoulders—she'd also left behind her large sword, favoring only a wickedly curved but fully sheathed dagger at her side. Even in the dim evening light filtering through the windows, her skin was radiant, sparkling with a faint iridescent shine. She'd let her hair down as well, no longer cropped tightly in a ponytail, but hanging loose over her shoulders, the ends resting just above her athletic, surprisingly ample chest.

The stool screeched against the wooden floor as she pulled it out, squeezing herself between the wall and another patron. The man closest to her shoved over an extra few inches, giving her more room and a wary eye.

Maybe she made other patrons uncomfortable, but I didn't care. She was tough but fair and good-hearted, even if her sense of humor could use some work. Besides, she was committed to protecting the town—a necessary job now more than ever.

"The usual?" I asked.

"What's the usual?" She sounded surprised.

"One of the nicer rums, neat, followed by an Old Fashioned after you've enjoyed something to sip on." I looked at the array of bottles behind me. Already in the last week, my collection had grown, as I'd nipped a couple of choice drams from traveling merchants and sailors. I pointed to one of the bottles on the top shelf. "You've been working your way from left to right. So that would mean this evening, you probably wanted to try the Draven Estate?"

For a few seconds she said nothing, but her eyes told me all I needed to know. They widened slightly, then went sharp, evaluating me.

"So you figured me out, did you?"

"I'm not sure I'd make such a bold claim," I chuckled.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm still just getting to know you. I know what you order. You like to take things slow and appreciate them, and you're not afraid to try something new. But after you’ve evaluated critically, you're not afraid to relax into something a little simpler and more pleasurable."

Her cheeks rouged. I'd struck gold with that one. I could see that she wanted to protest, probably unsettled by my perceptive observation.

Still, it was never wise to make people feel judged. I offered her the benefit of the doubt.

"Of course, that's just how you like to unwind. I'm sure you're not nearly so predictable when you're not settled up to a bar."

With a defeated sigh and an appreciative nod, she ordered her usual. She topped it off with a request for our sashimi plate, grumbling that, although she appreciated our culinary inventiveness, it wouldn't kill us to offer dinner rolls and sausage or a simple meat pie.

After that, we fell into our usual routine for a few minutes as I poured her drink and fetched her place setting. She really wasn't that dry, all things considered. Maybe a bit stiff, but she loosened up after her first rum.

Her fingers curled around the tumbler. Her finger pads and palm showed through the imperfect glass. They looked rough and callused, worn from drilling forms with her sword. She probably chopped her own firewood, too.

She brought the drink to her mouth and sniffed. Her eyelids closed, and a placid, Zen-like expression fell over her countenance. For a moment, she looked like she’d been spiritually transported to the Draven Estates… wherever that was.

South, I think. Somewhere tropical.

Her first sip was small and exploratory. “Hm. Hmm.” After she took a second, slower sip of the rich amber liquid, she fixed her gaze on me. "So. Tomorrow morning? Round two?"

I groaned. "I'm still so sore from round one."

"We didn't even do anything last time! All I did was show you the different types of blades. You took a few practice swings is all. After you chose a couple that felt right, we spent the rest of the time talking about the theory of combat."

Sure, when she put it that way, it didn’t sound like much. But a few practice swings each with twenty-something swords had my shoulders and forearms screaming.

“‘Scuse!” A flash of jiggly purple entered my view. “Mwah. Mwahhh!”

Shivai danced past, sprightly enough to be a fae rather than a demon. Her teasing expression and mimed kisses made me feel oddly uncomfortable—not because she was blowing those kisses at me, but because she made it obvious that all the smooches she puckered into the air were a pantomime.

She was pretending to be me. The air, presumably, was where a certain surly dragonkin would be.

The frantic, two-fingered pointing at me and Lady Talia made it all too clear. She thought the two of us wanted to make out.

Which, if I were being honest with myself, I hadn't exactly not thought about.

Back on Earth, my For You Pages fed me nonstop short form videos of toned, fitness-influencer dommy mommies. My algorithm knew I could appreciate muscles on a woman. I loved all of it. Capped shoulders, visible abs, legs that could probably squat an ox cart.

Lady Talia checked all those boxes. Judging by some of her odd comments when visiting her house, it sounded like I checked a few of hers, too.

Shivai’s mimed smooches felt less like teasing and more like trenchant observation. 

But was I going to do anything about it?

Of course not.

It just didn't seem like the right time to ask Wynnie about what our situation really was. We were still riding the high of a new relationship. Even if she was open to more partners—which she’d certainly suggested—I wasn't ready to rush into anything.

"…Maybe a few drills, definitely some exercises to get you in shape, but no actual hand-to-hand," Lady Talia was saying. She paused, then cocked an accusatory brow at me and set her jaw. "Were you even paying attention?"

"Maybe? I might've been a little distracted," I admitted.

She glanced over at Shivai's backside as it disappeared into the kitchen. "The demon?"

"She was making faces," I said.

"Well, I hope you're ready to take this seriously. Personally, I'd think sword and combat training takes precedence over making eyes at a cute little demonkin, but if you don't care about the fate of this town…"

She let the implication hang in the air and downed the rest of her rum unceremoniously. Her knuckles rapped soundly against the hardwood bar top. It could have meant either a request for her next drink—the rum Old Fashioned—or maybe it was just a way to punctuate her last statement.

I took it as an order for round two, and I nodded my understanding while starting on her cocktail.

"She was making faces. I wasn't making eyes. And I'm ready for weapons training. Whatever it takes. Seaport has my full commitment." I dashed some bitters into the build and topped it with ice. As I stirred, I asked the question I'd been scared to ask earlier. "How long before the pirates come back, anyway?"

"Who knows? They don't exactly send their best and brightest out for collections duty."

"Really? Strider seemed pretty smart."

"He was, mostly. He still let his emotions get the best of him, and look how that ended for the guy. Then again, it's not like pirates are known for being the best or brightest."

I didn't know if that was necessarily true, but it sounded about right. Most career criminals were just smart enough to either not get caught or to find someone powerful to hide behind, whether that was an individual or an organization.

Sure, there were the occasional masterminds, but they were the exception, not the rule.

Still, with the fear these black-flagged raiders elicited, and the hushed tones in which they were usually discussed, they had to have been doing something right. How else could the be such a longstanding thorn in the side of the kingdom's navy? A threat to every seafaring vessel and port town?

Apparently, one didn't need to be the best or the brightest to be wildly successful here. Even I’d managed to do alright so far, and I was just some guy.

"How long did you keep them in the hold? You said it was what, like, two days?"

"It was two days if they behaved themselves. They didn't behave. I kept them for four, but didn't let them out until the night of the fourth."

"So, basically, five days."

She nodded. "And they had no horse to travel with, and no nearby boat to get back out to sea. It'll take them at least a full day's walk to get to Northridge, and probably longer to get back out to sea to reconnect with their fleet."

I finished stirring and grabbed her tumbler. With a pick, I chipped off a sizable chunk of ice from a block I'd frozen earlier and set it inside. Then I strained the finished cocktail into the glass, peeled off some orange rind with a sharp knife, expressed the oils over the top of the drink, rubbed the peel around the rim, and twisted it before resting it on top of the ice cube. Classic high-end bar stuff.

I slid it over to Lady Talia with a curt nod.

She grabbed the glass eagerly and brought it just before her lips. A slow inhale brought a smile to her face; then she cocked her head.

"Why do you do that whole thing with the orange?"

"The oils change the flavor. I wiped the rim just for the smell. When you're working with bottom-shelf liquor, especially, it's best to hide the less savory notes from bad distilling practices."

"You really take care with this stuff, don't you?"

"Anything worth doing is worth doing well," I replied. "Whether it's making drinks, looking after customers, or learning how to use a sword, I promise I'm going to put my heart into it."

The constable took a sip and savored it. "That bodes well for your relationship, I suppose. I trust you treat Wynnie well?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. We need more men like you around here. I almost wish there were more of you to go around." She blinked suddenly, almost surprised by her own words, then drowned her reaction in another big sip of her old-fashioned. “Um. I mean. You know what I meant.”

I just chuckled and shook my head. I was pretty sure I knew exactly what she meant. But did she?

Back on Earth, I'd gotten used to women getting a little flirtatious on the other side of the bar. Something about the customer-to-professional relationship made it easier for them to open up about their feelings.

Though once again, I found it curious that Lady Talia was revealing some interest in me. This wasn't the first time. And she'd even just acknowledged that I was in a committed relationship—one that Wynnie had suggested needn't be exclusive, though I wasn't sure how much of that the dragonkin knew about.

Again, I needed to speak with Wynnie before overthinking anything. For now, I just wanted to get a bit more insight into what we might be dealing with—and when.

"So, do you think it'll be a few days before the pirates return with their enforcer?"

She relaxed visibly, leaning in. "If the fleet thinks this is worthy of retaliation, yeah. A few days at least. More likely we're looking at one week minimum, up to three weeks maximum."

"Three weeks? Really?"

"Northridge by foot, chartering a boat that wouldn't be afraid of encountering pirates, finding the armada on the seas or in one of their secretive ports?” She counted off on her fingers, taking a breath before continuing. “Explaining the situation and rallying a ship or two, making their way here, then hoofing it into town? Yeah, that's gonna take a bit."

I didn't even know I had that much air in my lungs to let out such a long, heavy sigh of relief. I was so used to the pace of things back on Earth that this medieval-era fantasy world moved almost agonizingly slowly in comparison.

But only almost agonizingly slowly. Right about now, I was actually thankful for the slow pace.

"How much swordplay do you think you can teach me in three weeks?"

"Depends. Are you a fast learner?"

I shrugged.

"I can teach you enough that you won't die on the first swing. How's that?"

"It's a start, I guess."

She grinned, lighting up our small corner of the room, almost as bright as the sliver of moon just coming into view through the window.

"Good. Training starts tomorrow. Let's see if you Reborn are deserving of all the hype you get in our stories."

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