Simple Pleasures

The saloon was abustle with the merriment of working folk, drinking away the fatigue of the day that was now behind them. Observing their fun from the second-floor balcony was the town sheriff, nursing a bottle of ale and quietly tapping his foot to the bard’s jaunty tune. Though his demeanor was stoic, he was happy to see his people enjoying themselves.

Their music was interrupted by the doors swinging open and a man clad in leather armor stepping in. He was caked in blood from the waist up, and he smelled of rot and filth. Over his shoulder, he carried a large sack that dripped as he walked to the counter. The people nervously watched as the man slowly approached the counter, setting the bag to the ground.

“H-Hello sir.” The barman said, avoiding eye contact. “We eh… we don’t want no trouble.”

The slayer opened the bag, presenting two demonic, skeletal heads. One was shaped like a human’s, but it was at least three times larger than normal. The other one was equine, though it’s bony mouth was filled with sharp fangs.

“It’s all right everybody.” The sheriff said, breaking the intense silence. He sauntered down the staircase, his arms open. “Hail, Slayer. It looks to me like your job was a success!”

“A Slayer? Out here?” One of the men said, surprised.

“Yes indeed.” The sheriff smiled, patting the Slayer on the back. “This fine gentleman has traveled all the way from North America to solve our little monster problem.” He looked at the monster heads, smiling giddily. “What you see before you are the heads of the dreaded, and now deceased, Nuckelavee.”

The people gasped collectively, many of them muttering a small prayer and signing crosses across their chests. The sheriff only laughed, “Folks it is okay, the beast can no longer hurt any of us. And it is all thanks to our friend here.” He raised his bottle, toasting to the town’s savior. The townsfolk cheered for him, drinking even more festively than before.

“Now, there’s the matter of your payment to discuss.” The sheriff and the slayer took a seat at the bar, the bartender offering the Slayer a bottle of whiskey. “I understand that you Slayers deal in goods, and you were kind enough to take the job without promise of anything. So I am willing to offer you anything within my power to give.” He turned to look at his people, who had set the monster heads on a shelf and had begun a game of darts. “I truly love this town and these people. But I couldn’t protect them, not the way you did.”

The Slayer sipped his drink, taking a moment to decompress and think about what he would take. A new reindeer or two would be nice since his was ripped in half during the fight. The Orkney Islands were famous for their high-quality sheep and ram, so maybe some furs and skins to sell would be a smart choice. As he pondered, his eyes drifted to a glass container on a shelf behind the bar.

“What is that?” He asked, pointing to it.

The bartender took it from the shelf, displaying it proudly. “This is called cake! A trader came through a few days ago selling all kinds of things I’ve never seen. This among them.” He took a knife to it, serving a piece to the Slayer. “That bastard killed my brother-in-law a few years back. I been saving this to sell, but I’d say you’ve earned a piece for avenging him.”

The Slayer eyed it curiously. It was brown, but parts of it looked spongy while other parts of it looked solid. When he bit into it, his mouth was filled with an explosion of sweet and rich flavor. He scarfed the rest of the piece down greedily, like a starving predator after the first successful hunt in weeks.

“Good right?” The bartender said, smiling. “I reckon it’ll make me a good bit of money ‘round here.”

The sheriff stood up, patting the Slayer on the shoulder. “Well, I gotta get back to keepin’ an eye on the place. But you come find me when you figure out what you wanna be paid with, all right?”

The Slayer waved him off, then stared down at his now empty plate. He pulled a coin pouch from his belt, setting a gold piece on the counter. “I’d like another slice of that cake please.”

The bartender smiled, taking the coin and serving the Slayer another piece. As the people danced and sang and threw their darts, the Slayer quietly savored his decadent treat.