The sound of clinking gla.s.s, the smell of pints and the spilled ale across the table matched the music drifting around the air—the cozy strum of a country guitar and a faint sound of a percussion and a woodwind instrument lingered, drowned with the voices of laughter and yelling men and giggling women with a hint of scattered songs and chatters.The tavern was full with a variety of individuals. Some who were adventurers or mercenaries, guild members from nearby, few amateur mages from parties, and mostly common folk just chattering around with the lady waitresses drinking booze. There were, in the corners, few shady fellows.
Clad in a pitch-black cloak, boots muddy and suspicious-looking.
"Here"s ale and jerky!" Says a lively lady, red-hair glistening from the lit-lamps that illuminated a bright gold. The ale in a wooden mug was placed then in the table, along with jerky—the cloaked man lifted his gaze, and then their eyes met.
Emerald eyes and chocolate-brown ones.
"Sir?"
"Where is Lopez?"
The girl blinked and then nodded, "follow me, sir."
**
"Do you have the information?"
"Ah," says a sitting man, his face red from alcohol, stared in wonder at the cloaked individual. "Who"re ye?"
The room was well-lit, given that they are in the tavern"s bas.e.m.e.nts. Several barrells were found on the sides. Bookshelves with used books and a small desk were resting against the other end of the room, filled with alchohol bottles and maps as well as dozens of papers scattered against the floor. In the midst of the room was a fat man reeking of booze, face red from being drunk.
"Sir... he knows the pa.s.sword,"
"Oh?" The man blinked, and immediately straightened himself. "W-who?"
The cloaked man pushed his hood back, revealing his platinum-blond locks, emerald-green eyes gleaming and unemotional.
"Do you know who I am?"
"D-duke Alphonsus Fenrir Feuerlon!" Says the man, eyes widening. "Yes, yes! I have the information!"
"Hm,"
The man runs towards his desk, tripping. He then searches in his desk, looking at drawers and anxiously scattering the papers and some jewelries all over the floorboards.
"Rose! Help me find the scroll! Er, the map!"
"Yes, sir!" Says the red-headed waitress, joining her master in search.
"...Sir, here it i—" the red-headed waitress, Rose, frowns as the fat man s.n.a.t.c.hes the scroll she found. She pouted, and then her chocolate-colored eyes drifted towards the "duke"—catching him looking at her. He averted his gaze, emerald eyes now looking at the scroll.
"Is this really the map?"
"Ah, yes, Duke!" The fat man says. "I guarantee you, I swear it to my name, Oscar Wild."
"Ah," the duke says, and then, his icy stare slowly rose to a burning chasm. "You lie."
"D-duke?"
"Where is the real scroll?"
Rose frowned. "But sir, if I may intrude, that is master"s only scroll."
"Did I talk to you, impertinent woman?" The duke says, eyeing Rose with annoyance, and then shifting his gaze back to the fat man, Oscar, the owner of the tavern.
"Where is the scroll that would lead to the sword of Feuersturm?"
Rose pouted.
"Argh." Oscar says. "We weren"t actually able to get it. HE doubled the payment. What you gave us isn"t enough."
"Is that so?" The duke says, and then he threw a small bag in the floor in front of the duke, the bag spilling down a bag of gold coins. "Then tell him I need it now."
Oscar grinned, "most certainly. Please be back after a day."
**
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"You did him good, father," Rose says, giggling. "But when will you give him the map?"
Oscar sighs. "We need more money for your mother"s medical fees. I will hide the map until the duke supplies us more,"
Rose eyed the empty alcohol bottles on the side.
"B-but father, if you give all the money to the hospital, then it would be more than enough, wouldn"t it? After all, that many gold coins..."
"Hush, rose!" Oscar says. "Your mother will need the money and I"m spending the few ones for our daily lives. Now, fetch me some alcohol. Bring me Allysa and two of the waitresses as well. You"re dismissed today."