One More Mug: Red Peace

“Words can make peace.”

The ambassador held his chalice slightly raised, speaking with quiet confidence. Around the tavern, several of his peers nodded in agreement while others raised their drinks in praise.

Suddenly, the main door creaked open, drawing a brief silence from the room. A man stepped inside, covered in a rugged cloak stained with hints of red.

“…They start wars too.”

The voice came from the cloaked stranger as he slowly approached the ambassador. With each step, a few patrons watched him with a strange hostility they themselves could not explain.

Reaching the counter beside the ambassador, he glanced toward the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The bartender left to prepare his order while the noise of a small tussle continued somewhere in the background.

“And that is why I am here, to prevent bloodshed.” The ambassador smirked confidently before taking a long drink from his wine mixture. “More people desire peace than war, and that is what makes tomorrow important. Both sides want peace.”

The bartender soon returned with the same drink, placing it before the cloaked stranger. He held the cup for a moment before taking a sip.

“Then why are you the one being sent instead of them speaking directly?” he asked calmly.

“Because I am who they need to ensure this succeeds, while they tend to their kingdoms,” the ambassador replied sharply. “The last treaty brought ten peaceful years, did it not?”

The stranger slowly placed his cup down, letting out a quiet, almost disappointed sigh.

“And tens of thousands had to die before that happened.”

There was a strange distance in his gaze, the kind seen in men who had survived too many wars. “If you fail… will thousands more have to die before peace returns again?” He drank again afterward, as though the thought carried little weight to him.

“War still happens.”

The ambassador’s expression tightened with irritation. “If that is what you choose to believe, then so be it. But I know what I do saves lives, because I can, and I have. My words are the shield for those who cannot fight.” The noise behind them began to rise again, forcing the ambassador to glance toward the growing commotion with a stern look. “Enough. Or get out.”

The voices lowered into murmurs, though the tension still lingered in the air. The stranger slowly turned the cup in his hand before speaking again. “You talk of shields, yet you replace them because you already know… they break.”

The ambassador sighed at the remark. “Weapons break as well.”

A faint chuckle escaped the stranger as he leaned back slightly, staring at the drink in his hand. “Not quite. Break a shield, and it becomes smaller… weaker. Break a sword, and it may still cut. Break an arrow, and you may still stab with it.” His eyes drifted toward the candlelight flickering across the tavern. “Though I do remember how arrows fly… those were always a favorite of mine.”

The ambassador narrowed his eyes slightly. “You speak as though you’ve seen countless wars.”

The stranger stared blankly into the candle flame. “More than I remember… yet I know I was there.”

As silence settled between them, the ambassador finally spoke again. “It’s just that I do not believe war is the only way for people to live. We can share, help one another… and I know peace is possible.” He lowered his gaze toward the half-empty cup in his hands.

The stranger listened quietly before placing his own cup down. “I admire what you are trying to do, and I agree… I do hope people can live without war.” A faint pause followed. “And yet, I exist because of it. I have a purpose because of it. I still remain a weapon for them.”

“You can still change,” the ambassador reassured him.

“I know,” the stranger answered calmly. “And what you are doing is commendable…” His eyes drifted toward the noise growing behind them.

“But sometimes, it is not men like you who begin wars.”

A mug suddenly shattered across the tavern floor. Voices rose as several men stood from their seats, the ambassador’s own peers now locked in a heated argument with a nearby group.

The stranger watched them without surprise.

“…Sometimes it is the people who follow you.”

A petite golem, one of the tavernkeepers, approaches the quarrel and asks for the one who broke it for payment, and softly says that they may go out as they are causing a scene, or she asks them if they want to be covered in mud to pacify them. All of the other patrons are backing up the golem as the disturbance that the two groups are causing is becoming more bothersome than the usual tavern chatter.

The ambassador quickly went to the golem and handed over payment of the broken mug as he bowed down in embarrassment, “I am sorry for my companion’s behaviour, and we will behave from now on, dont we?” He looks at his group like daggers, having everyone agree, and they settled down with the ambassador finally returning to the side of the stranger, with tense shoulders.

“Only those who don’t, but as you can see… they want the same thing.” He lets out a heavy sigh as the annoyance is starting to get to him.

“Breath, a big day tomorrow, and you are getting fed up already. If you really mean what you said that you want to bring peace… then prove it.” The stranger slowly lowered his cup from his mouth as he asked something he wished to happen.

“I understand, but you yourself should already know that peace, it must be maintained, unlike conflict, which can happen anywhere.” His shoulders slowly loosened as the air exited his mouth after a sip, calming his nerves.

“Oh, I am well aware how easy it is,” the stranger looked away, as he saw the two groups near them were starting to stir again. “But sometimes, the best way is to really remove the cause of it, isn’t it?”

“N-no, that's not it, because people can adapt and change, so it means they can change for the better.” He shakes his head, but a thought is in his mind. “That's why we have prisoners instead of execution, because they can reflect and change.”

The stranger paused and agreed, giving the ambassador a sigh of relief, “I suppose you're right.” The stranger looked at his reflection from the cup and followed up,

“But has someone changed?”

The ambassador and stranger haven’t said anything, as only silence filled the air after the question, and they sit in silence, being uncertain what to say.

Finally, he spoke up again, “I still believe it’s a noble thing that you do.”

“Thank you, it’s that sometimes what people need is a strong and reliable figure, like our king, me, or someone leading them,” The ambassador stated with his confidence slowly recovering.

“Just be careful, I've seen many great leaders killed by foolish men.” He warned him as the red tint from his cloak grew a bit like the heat from the drink was taking place.

“Only a proof that they weren’t gr-” A brawl suddenly erupted from the back, tossing and tumbling chairs and tables, as the group of the ambassador and another party resumed their arguments, causing it to be the final straw, but before he scolds, the stranger places a cold hand on his shoulder.

“As I said, sometimes it’s not you but the ones who follow,” he coldly stared at the ambassador with a look that a man who has witnessed everything, making him unable to reply but throw his shoulder away to remove the stranger's hand.

“Everyone out!” He scolded the ones fighting and looked at the stranger furiously, making the tavern messy and barren, only leaving the stranger, placing his half-full cup down, and a glowing, blood-red shard of a broken arrow, lodged inside the rib, spoke out alone in the empty tavern as the keepers broke the fight outside.

“Then I remain.”