The smell of ale and spirit linger in the room, mixed with the foul stench of sweat and manly body odor. It was not such a wonderful situation but given the circumstances it was comfortable to the least. Rather than freezing to death with the howling wind of the icy mountains outside I would rather sit myself on a stool near a warm fireplace inside a rat infested pub full of violent men, drinking their responsibilities away. Even so, not the same thing can be said for my new luggage, the girl I found inside the castle. Her idea of comfortable involves things that my money pouch would not be happy about.
The bar-maid delivered my glass of milk and spirit, a not-so common yet delicious combination. Meanwhile the maiden sitting on my side files a complaint about the lack of hygiene, “This place sucks ass.”
That was quite a simple complaint. I decided to not dwell on it and just enjoy my refreshing warm drink. The extra alcohol gives it another kick, making my insides warm. Wouldn’t it be better if I just left her inside that chunk of ice and be on my way. Of course, life isn’t that simple. There’s a reason why I wandered on this journey and that very reason is her. Long story short it has something to do with ice and calamity and whatnot. It’s not my area of expertise so I don’t really dwell on it, I just go and retrieve. A makeshift courier one might say.
My enjoyable voyage of white milk was interrupted by a slam of the door. Three bulked men came in. Among them was a bald one and by the looks of it he was the leader. I could smell trouble brewing and the fact the there’s a woman, who could fall into the attractive description, is inside the same building as them isn’t helping. I wanted to get away from there quickly but before I could even pay for the drinks my extra luggage was being hit on. I don’t think this will end well.
“Oy lads! Looks to me here there’s a babe in this piss-hole of a pub,” the bald one said. His other two henchmen nod in agreement and made several generic grunt statements.
“Say, why dontcha give me and me boys here a good show eh? Makes fo’ good money ey?” he rested his hand on the counter and faced her.
Her gaze was still at her mug of mead. She took a sip, “Money? How much will I be paid for?”
That question stroke me as odd. I couldn’t believe she’s playing along with this shenanigan.
“A hefty amount o’ copper fits ye well, eh lads?” he signals to his goons who decided to not take a seat and stand around behind their captain’s back. Needless to say this made them laugh in an obnoxiously loud way.
The ‘lady’ gulps down her drink and slams it down, “Copper? Who do you take me for? Your mom?”
This time the goons actually made a quite intelligent remark for their size, “boy boss, she sure got ya good.”
“Aye, she even talked about yer mom, boss.”
Of course, their ‘intelligent’ remark is just as intelligent as it gets. As for the bald leader, he snapped at his underlings, “SHUT UP YE WHORESONS,” and turn to his victim to-be, “YE FOCKIN WHORE.” He was about to slap her with his gigantic palm. I panicked and threw my mug of steaming hot milk into his face. He shouted in pain, the scalding white drink now covers most of his face. Damn I wanted to finish that too.
“FOCK! ME EYES!” He exclaimed, causing his goons to panic. Not much is inside their head except for nodding to everything their slightly smarter boss says.
In his panic, the bald man flail his arm to his side, trying to grab whoever threw that mug. Good thing I was already on my way to the exit with his victim in tow. Instead of grabbing my body he instead accidentally hit another man. This particular man was an old fellow, nevertheless life in the snowy mountain is harsh so he was heavily built. Getting swat on the head by some stranger while drinking your favorite ale in your favorite tavern is not something that one would be happy about. Instead, this accident angered his drunken mind. He stood taller than the bald bandit leader and pushed him so hard he flew from his chair and hit another man who was in shambles. The accidents keep repeating itself and established its own domino effect. Before I even reached the exit the pub was in chaos. Drinks flew here and there, along with chairs, candles and bricks. By god I don’t even know where they even got those bricks from. Comical dust-clouds surround the place with shards of wood flying out of it.
The bar maids hid under the counter, the only safe haven there was, and protected themselves from harm. More and more people join in the fight, some were victims of the accident and others only wanted some fun.
“That’s why we can’t have nice things,” I mumbled to myself.
Her unwanted reaction came mere seconds away, “It’s not my fault people like me.”
“Shut up, we’re leaving.”
Not long after, the goons saw us escaping and pointed, “THERE! Thas the whore ye were lookin fer boss! I’m sure ofit!”
The bald boss escaped from the dust cloud and emerged with a club of wood, “COME BACK ‘ERE YOU BASTERDS.”
I pulled on a chair and kicked it his way before running for the exit. The chair hit him right at the stomach and made him fall over flat on his ass. The goons tried to help their leader up but they were too dumb to figure out who should help him first. By the time his underlings were finish we were already gone.
Now we’re back again in the cold. If it weren’t for our cloaks we would’ve freeze up by now.
“That was fun wasn’t it? Let’s do that again on the next town,” she said.
She was riding on my ram while I walked. It wouldn’t be such a melancholic trip if she were to shut her mouth the entire time. But nice things hate my ass so it wasn’t possible. Instead I get a leeching witch.
“You should thank me you know, thanks to me you don’t have to pay for any of the drinks,” she pointed out.
“Mhm, a drink that I barely finished thanks to you.”
“It was your choice to throw it at the jerk, for all I care I could’ve just frozen them.”
“That is not an option, now shut up, it’s a long journey.”
“You still haven’t thanked me for the drinks. Technically, I paid for both of our drinks.”
“No! You should thank me for actually considering and finally buying that expensive wool cloak so you wouldn’t freeze to death in this god-forsaken cold wasteland,” I said pointing at her white cloak. From all the cheap alternatives in the shop she had to pick that one. I began feeling disappointed at myself for not just buying the other cheaper garment.
“Geez you’re such a bore,” she immediately complain after my statement.
“Shut up.”
From there we began our journey again into the other side of the land.
ns 15.158.61.17da2
