Shanto was known as the village drunk. Every day he sat on the same barstool. For as long as anyone could remember he had been there, a drunk who never seemed to run out of ISK. No one ever really paid attention to him, no one ever asked questions.
One day when he was sitting in the bar, the bartender asked him about his story, why he was there and never seemed to run out of ISK to pay for drinks.
"It's a joke, you see," Shanto said, "probably the best one you'll ever hear."
"Really?" The bartender looked at Shanto and squinted, as if trying to discern if he was telling the truth or not.
"Yes... and it will cost you. I never want to pay for a drink again."
Smiling, the bartender agreed. Shanto drank the cheapest liquor in the bar anyway, so it was not like the old man would put him out of business if he did indeed have an interesting story. "Tell you what, good or bad, you have my word you won't have to pay for another drink here, the rest of your life."
"Good." He chugged down his drink, and slammed it down. "Fill me up, and I'll tell you the story of how I came to be a drunk."
***
Old Konso hated new deliveries. Sitting and standing through hours upon hours of cataloging and inspecting wore on him. The livestock were almost always unruly at first, some downright homicidal. The medical exams were cursory at best, nonexistent at worst. Cataloging had been streamlined, of course. Implanting numbered chips and scanning said chips into the database along with blood sample and skeletal scan.
At first he didn't hear the commotion coming from the docking ring. He had learned to tune out a good measure of the fighting and yelling that inevitably occurred on delivery days. This noise, this struggle happening outside the reception center, was something new though. He raised his head. When he saw the source of the commotion he stood and approached it, guards close behind him.
“You there, what do you think you're doing?” The... well, Konso never called the livestock “people”, but this person was apparently something of a celebrity to the new livestock delivery. In fact, a good number of the livestock seemed to be cheered on by many in the crowd. Old Konso, who prided himself on knowing the lineage of any livestock based solely on their build, was baffled.
When the livestock turned, the old man narrowed his eyes. Indeed, there was something familiar about this one. “You... I've seen you somewhere before.” Indeed, as Konso looked closer he realized his error. “Oh... oh excuse me your Lordship... I-I...” Konso stumbled to find the words, but in the end he just stopped talking.
“You are supervisor here, correct?” The Lord's voice was steady and confident, with no hint of anger or malice. “Speak, quickly.”
“Yes sir, I am the supervisor here.” Konso bowed his head and cowered. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“Do not worry, you are not in trouble.” The Lord smiled, amused. “In fact, I shall grant you your freedom should you assist me in a simple matter.”
Old Konso's eyes lit up, and he listened.
“Konso, if you can find me a perfect woman, one without flaw among these wretched livestock I shall grant you your freedom.”
“But Lord, that is impossible!”
The men surrounding the Lord began to laugh. “Is that so?” said the Lord. “Then I guess you shall stay a slave.. in fact, who is your immediate inferior?”
As Konso's eyes lowered, a young guard raised his hand. “Good, Konso, this young man is now your master. Treat him as you would me.” The Lord looked at the young man and smiled lovingly. “A woman whom I know has been wrongfully captured in a raid. I want her found. She is a woman without flaw... if you can find her with only that as your guide, I shall grant your freedom, as well as the entire allotment of slaves delivered today.”
The young man, stunned, nodded his head.
***
The bartender shook his head. “I don't get it, Shanto. What's the punchline?”
The drunk old man laughed, followed by a loud cough. “I was the young man,” Shanto said, nearly falling off his barstool. “Found the woman in two hours, then lost the slaves I won four hours later in a card game. I've been drinking ever since.”
"But how come you never run out of ISK?"
"You don't have enough Ship's Whiskey to pay for that story, young man. I don't think my body could collect on it either." He winked and stood up. "I'll be back tomorrow. Keep my barstool open."
The bartender shook his head and laughed. "You got it, friend."
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