While Furen felt both a certain fear and a hint of curiosity, his movements were far more decisive than his hesitant mind. After pushing open the door that, in his mind, opened onto a new world, he didn't even have time to observe the surroundings. Pretending to be a regular at taverns, he first moved away from the door, then began to wander around the room as if discovering the place out of curiosity.
In fact, once he'd pushed open the door, everything he saw in the bar seemed far less mysterious than he'd imagined. This contrast between his expectations and reality made his excessive caution seem almost ridiculous.
Furen himself felt a little ashamed of his own inner turmoil and overly complicated thoughts. Yet, faced with the horrors and absurdity of this world, he immediately recovered, reminding himself that he must never let his guard down; caution above all, listening to his instincts remained the best strategy.
While his mind was still racing with thoughts, his gaze had already swept the room. Without exaggeration, this bar had absolutely nothing in common with any he had seen before, except for the fact that it sold alcohol.
Certainly, the smell of the working-class neighborhoods was already difficult to bear, but that of the tavern was even worse: a mixture of wine, sweat, the odor of rarely washed bodies, and even, more distinctly, urine. This betrayed a serious discrepancy with the image he had of his father's "esoteric sanctuary."
The surrounding din, a mixture of indistinct sounds, shouts, and laughter, was such a confused chaos that Furen almost felt dizzy. For a moment, he felt his vision blur.
He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly to banish the discomfort caused by the noisy crowd. He had to admit: in his past life, as in this one, he had never been used to such an environment, especially since the light was particularly dim.
The candles in this tavern were very different from those used at home. Their light was dull, flickering, and accompanied by an unpleasant smell of burnt animal fat.
In truth, modern life, even for the common people, offered comforts that today's nobles would find hard to imagine if one were to forget the "three great mountains" (the great difficulties of life); constant light day and night, varied distractions, and everyday conveniences were luxuries out of reach here. But it had to be admitted that, in many respects, the lives of the wealthy merchants and nobles of this world surpassed those of ordinary citizens of the past.
As for the current working classes, Furen once viewed them with a certain detachment, almost thinking: "Why don't they eat meat porridge?"
But now he deeply understood the lamentations described in Voyage et observations à Triers, this account by Isis Berru, written in a neutral tone, depicted scenes even more miserable than those visible in this tavern.
It was undoubtedly this sincerity and realism that earned the author the admiration of her readers.
"As soon as there's a difference, it's as if we're traveling from one world to another. In Triers alone, I could feel how everything could be turned upside down. So, if I could go somewhere else, what new landscapes would I discover?"
After overcoming his initial dizziness, Furen felt a new curiosity about other possible countries.
Once this brief feeling of strangeness had passed, as if he were touching a world unrelated to his own, he observed the tavern with the gaze of a detached observer.
Suddenly, he felt his spirituality stir slightly. Surprised, he rejoiced inwardly: his "role" seemed to be producing a certain effect. He didn't yet know the precise rules of this game, but it was encouraging.
The tavern was actually much larger than any room he'd seen except the National Library in Triers. Perhaps the floor space was similar, but the feel was completely different: here, the entire space was devoted to the bar and a few stairs, whereas a house of the same size would be divided into bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and so on.
In one corner, a space surrounded by barriers caught his attention. Around it, men were drinking, waving wooden tablets, yelling and shouting, mixing shouts of encouragement with insults in a dense, dark crowd that made it impossible for Furen to see what was happening in the center of the crowd.
Then, with a piercing scream, the din stopped for a moment before starting again with even more violent shouts and curses. Little by little, the human mass dispersed, as if it had suddenly come back to life.
Furen calmly contemplated this human scene. When only a few people remained, he made his way against the current to approach.
On the ground inside the enclosure, there were bloodstains. A man with a smeared face, visibly in a trance of excitement, was screaming with joy. Around him, some cheered without even knowing him, others, their faces reddened, drank in large gulps, while a few spat angrily at another wounded man, unconscious, being carried on a stretcher.
It was then that Furen understood: this tavern also served as an arena for bloody fights on which bets were placed. But this was not surprising: many mercenaries considered this kind of distraction the perfect form of entertainment, and taverns the happiest places in the world.
Beyond this combat zone, there were still many tables, a restless crowd, and another corner, on the opposite side, which Furen discovered to be a gambling area. Here too, one could hear cries of pain or joy, madness floating in the air.
Furen didn't linger any longer in these two corners and instead headed towards the true heart of the tavern: the bar.
This one was easy to find—in fact, it was the most remarkable part of the place. More than just a counter, it was a large central bar surrounded by several smaller satellite bars, like stars around a moon. All were mobbed by customers.
Above each bar, a price list was clearly visible. After looking closely, Furen noticed that each counter offered a different type of drink: some ridiculously cheap, accessible to any mercenary, others so expensive that a single glass cost the entire gain of an entire mission.
The large central bar offered everything from the most ordinary to the most luxurious.
Furen didn't dwell on the details any further and headed straight for the large bar. There, the crowd was thinner, but the bartenders were much more numerous. Some customers, once they had their drinks, moved away to drink quietly at an empty table.
In the center of the large bar, a man seemed less busy than the others. He calmly observed the room. His face was covered in wrinkles, his sparse, black and white hair dull and lackluster. His arms, veined and muscular, contrasted with a swollen belly, a sign of a slight overweight in his forties.
This man, obviously the owner, looked at the tavern with a weary and listless air.
(End of chapter)