"Ale," Loran slurred, slamming his empty mug on the counter. "More ale!"

He was drunk. Very drunk. The world was spinning, and his body felt heavy and warm. He wanted to forget. Just for tonight, he wanted to forget. He was miserable.

Loran had spent four years serving as a knight, assigned to a remote frontier outpost. His eldest had been only a year old when he was assigned, and a second had been on the way. His wife had pleaded with him to stay as a town guard, but on that income he wouldn't have been able to provide for his growing family. Loran's new position was as a knight, and knights earned far more than guards.

But he'd missed his children growing up. The letters from his wife, the love of his life, had slowly grown more and more distant. Their tone had grown from loving to bitter, and they'd become less and less frequent until he had to basically beg her to write him back. When she finally wrote back, it'd been to tell Loran that the children weren't his. That she'd had a lover the entire time, and that she, the other man, and the children were a true family now. She'd told him not to look for her.

His post was due to end in a couple weeks, and then he'd return home and find himself alone. He'd have to start over, build a new life, and he had no idea where to even start. For now, he just wanted to forget. Forget that the woman he'd sacrificed everything for had left him. Forget that he'd given up his entire life, had fought and bled for his family, only to have his wife move on and take the children he'd thought were his.

Maybe he never even had a family in the first place. Maybe he'd only ever been a convenient source of coin. Maybe the writing had always been on the wall, and he was the only idiot who hadn't seen it.

"Come on, barkeep," Loran begged, his vision blurring. "I've got gold. Don't leave me dry. Just one more."

One more. One more, and maybe the pain would fade, if only for a little while.