The Ballad of Azreal

Azreal dashed down the stairs and raced to the door, and had touched the handle when he heard his father, "Azreal! Where are you going?"
"Work." He growled back.
"You say your prayers before you leave!"
Azreal sighed, "Yes, Papa." He turned to the wall between the door and the staircase, where hung on the wall was the large icon of a rising dragon in steel and glass. He pulled from under his sleeve a string bracelet with a wooden bangle hanging from it, and held it before his mouth as he muttered. "Praise be."
"Good boy." His father called after him as he left out the door.
***
"That's right folks, for just two gold pieces a bottle, you can have access to the most potent potions this side of the sea, straight from the Old World, made to true draconic recipes! Yes sir, genuine kobold brew using secrets taught to my family by a golden dragon!" Azreal rolled the crate onto it's side with his foot and stood up on it, getting himself up high enough to look over the crowd, "Heals any ailment, balances the humours, channels the chakras, yes sir, this all-purpose panacea garauntees you will never need to pay out the nose to some quack doctor or zealous preacher again! But don't take my word for it, fine fellows, for I see familiar faces among the crowd, former satisified customers of mine. You, young lady!" He pointed to a ratmaid in the crowd, who worked her way to the front. He extended her hand and pulled her up onto the crate. "Care to tell us all how my patented genuine Golden Dragon Elixer helped you, my dear girl?"
With straining shyness, the girl breathed, "Um, just a sip a' this brew cured my lung vapours, and not half the bottle cured my daddy's blindness." A rush of gasps went through the crowd as the skeptics were turned.
"Yessiree, for just two gold pieces you too can hold in your hands such a powerful cure-all. No need to thank me, although I'm just this young lady is so grateful she could kiss me!" The corner of his mouth pulled up into a wry smile.
The ratgirl moved her head a little, and it was clear that she was doing whatever rats did instead of blush. To a whoop from the crowd, she kissed the kobold on his cheek, then whispered into his ear, "You're pushing it."
"A hand for our lovely satisfied customer!" He smiled to the crowd, "An orderly line, if you please."
***
"What's the take?" The ratgirl asked Azreal as she walked into the alleyway.
"32 pieces." He pulled a drawstring pouch tight shut and offered it to her, "Here's your cut, milady."
She took the pouch, "I'll be wanting an extra two for the kiss."
"Come on, Laretta." He smiled up at her from his seat against the wall, "I ain't that bad a looker, am I?" He flicked two gold pieces up into the air, which she deftly caught.
"Nope, but you sure are a sucker. Seems like you're just looking for excuses to give me money."
"What can I say, I'm a gentleman." He pushed himself up to his feet. "You know, I lose more on the bottles than I do on the juice. Don't that bring a smile to your furry little face?"
"It sure does, Az. Now I better skedaddle. Any of our happy customers catch me hanging around with you, they might figure we're in cahoots."
Azreal laughed, "These fools? Etta, half the reason I make money is that folks in this city want to believe. They want a little romance, a little storybook happiness. Hell knows, they'd about run out of it back in the Old World. That's why if they saw you and me in an alley together, they'd figure that one kiss weren't enough for you."
"You know, I kind of like these folks. Sure, they're as dumb as a sack full of porcupines, but they ain't mean like I heard they are out west. They saw a ratfolk girl kissing a kobold boy, and they damn near cheered. What I hear, some of the towns out there'd have hanged us eight ways for our little show, even if they didn't figure you were selling water." She leant against the mouth of the alley.
"Yeah. I get what you mean. I guess I kinda like it here too."
***
"You lied to me! Your own father! You say you work for law firm, and sell lies to people who know no better!" Azreal's dad splayed his claws over his chest, "What kind of son does that?"
"The kind that brings in some damn money, Papa. The kind that cares if we starve or not." Azreal refused to budge, leaning against the doorframe, while his father stalked the room in anger.
"You cannot make money in honest job?"
"Not enough to feed the both of us. Ain't nobody gonna pay the likes of us more'n they have to. I set my own prices and I make my own wage."
"You lie to your customers!"
"As if those rubes desrve the truth?"
"You are disgrace before Apsu!" Spittle flew from his front teeth.
In a fierce motion, pounding a fist against the wall behind him, Azreal moved forward, "Apsu doesn't care! He doesn't want us! Do these scales look fucking platinum to you? Golden, maybe? Do you see a damn sheen?" Azreal found himself snout to snout with his father.
His father's voice dropped to a reverent whisper, "Apsu brings all to their way, regardless of race or creed."
Azreal fell back to leaning against the wall, keeping his gaze away from his father, "I'm sorry, Papa."
"He takes all those that seek him under his platinum wing, and his shining scales protect-"
"Papa, I'm sorry, would you just stop praying? I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry." He returned his eyes to his father.
"It is okay, my son. Times are hard. Apsu will forgive you in time."
"What about you?"
"You already have my forgiveness, because I know you will make up for it." He took his son in a hug.
"Listen, about that," Azreal pulled back, "I think I know how I can. I got an offer for some work, out west. Honest work, and the pay's good. I'll sent money back to you, and write when I can. I'll make this right."
"We all must make our own Way. Apsu guide you in this, Azreal."
"Thank you, Papa."
***
"So you just left?" The barkeep had been polishing the same glass for the entirety of Azreal's story.
"Eeyup." Azreal, likewise, was still staring down into the same whisky, "Just couldn't stay any more."
"What about the rat girl?" Asked the barkeep.
"Yeah, didja visit her in the dead a' night when you was leavin', tell her how you felt an' share a unforgittable night a' young passion?" Urged the burly half-orc to his right, who read too many romance novels.
"I, uh... I left her a note. A litte money, as much as three week's cut. Should be enough to keep her 'til she figures how to make more. She's a smart girl."
"A note?" The barkeep put down the glass, "Couldn't bear the goodbye, huh?"
Azreal shook his head, and downed the whisky.
"Eyup, I been there, little buddy." He refilled Azreal's glass, "This 'un's on the house."
"Thanks." Azreal managed.
"So what work was it brought you out west anyway?"
"Suffice it to say, it ain't exactly as honest as my old man thinks." He drank the whisky down again, then got off the stool, knocking a fair few inches off his height. "I oughta be going. Y'all have been great company, but I got a train to catch. Still got a ways to go 'til Deadsville."
"Good luck, little feller." The barkeep nodded to him.
After Azreal had left the saloon, the bleary drunk that had been sat to his left raised his head up off the bar with visible effort, "Y'know," He began, his head in obvious danger of slamming right back down again, "I never knew that lizardfolk had midgets too."