He would be here, whatever happened. Though a flag was daily raised to proudly unroll in the playful morning breezes, the flag itself showed less consistency in color than was found in this man’s continual presence. Traders, soldiers, and those wayfaring souls who knew no home, they all came to the port, and they all came to him. He had beer.
He rather liked the current banner, though he was want to admit the affection. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, or what spy had quietly wetted his beard listening to the conversations floating in the pub’s atmosphere? No, he kept himself to himself, and everyone loved him, though likewise, none were too quick to confess the same.
He would always be here, he’d say, though as a candle’s waning is seen in the flickering light, his own hairs had gone from grey to white, and a white now sparsely covering his head. His son though, he joined the war, wore that trim jacket proudly, marched to the drumbeat. The letter said the boy—hardly a boy anymore—was in hospital; the son wrote he was safe. That was good.
Absentmindedly rubbing a dampened towel over the worn planks upon which last night’s patrons spilt their drinks—the mess was long ago cleaned, but he kept wiping—he walking-dozed, dreaming where he stood.
The Kommandant barged in. It had been years since the old Kommandant had been here. He was still young, as the man had been young. His voice was powerful, barking at two of his soldiers. Looks like leave would be cut short for those boys. Sad, the man remembered. They died in the next assault. Never settled the tab.
He moved to inspect the steins, and his eyes rolled over the mugs without seeing them. Somewhere in the distance, a horn shouted for the young men to rise. He would always be here, but he just needed to sit down a spell. The old chair gave its familiar groan, and the two settled together. Closing his eyes, he saw his old friend sitting across the table.
“Mark,” he laughed, “You dog. I thought they shot you.”
“Those wolves couldn’t hit the Queen’s Revenge were it to dock in front of them,” he joked. “Mostly ‘cause they’re all dead now.”
“That’s right. You all won that war.”
“We won it,” he intimated. “You like to think you’re outside the whole world, like nothing besides your beer matters.”
“Well, that’s how them’s what comes in want to feel.”
“And you gave that to us, and more.” Mark looked sideways. “Remember those packages you helped me with? I know I promised not to tell anyone, but the war’s over.”
“Who did you tell?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I told my commander, and he wanted to honor you. We’ll all be there. Even Lu.”
“I thought Lu was on the other side.”
“He was, but he got the same promotion I did.” Mark was silent a moment. Before he could say anything more, a thunder-clapping cannon disrupted the sleeping man.
“Soon, Mark,” he mumbled to himself. I know, the old man mused, I’ll have my promotion too.
Tale Told 
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