There were more adventurers which were explained by the loud noises they heard from the outside. Who would have known that adventurers would neglect their own quest and find a way to enjoy themselves? Mave knew that already so she decided to spend her time scouting around the perimeter, like a productive adventurer. Stefan took his grand plan of meeting the adventurers to grow connections as if this wasn't a ploy to sneak in a few drinks in between.
Then there was Michael and Ellis, standing at the tavern door like children left by their parents.
These adventurers didn't even look like they were on a quest because from Michael's perspective, they looked too intoxicated to fight anybody. Michael imagined this town would have been locked down in defenses, his party patrolling around with royal guards, and the people would feel safe. But in reality, the townsfolk were afraid in their own homes of adventurers that raided their town as a little break from the guild.
Ellis patted Michael's back, following Mave so she wouldn't wander away too far.
Michael watched him jog away, leaving him behind with the bands of adventurers that couldn't control themselves with the odor of alcohol. Stefan was unfortunately one of them, just somewhere in that crowd. Michael moved through the crowd of roaring men, trying to find a table so he could be served. It's been days since he had a proper meal instead of split rations between his party. Once he found a vacant table, it was only a few minutes before a waitress came to serve him.
Her hair was disheveled, her face looked miserable, and her eyes were sore from tears. Michael felt something clench in his throat that he didn't know how to explain. Considering that all of these adventurers were irresponsible, he imagined the sort of abuse and shame that they had brought to this innocent town.
The stereotype of adventurers would have never been broken if everybody acted like this.
Michael ordered a portion of whatever they were serving, giving her a handful of gold coins. He didn't care if he was paying over the price but he just thought she at least deserved some type of compensation. The expression on her face changed as she tried to believe the money in front of her. He doubted that these adventurers even paid for their meals or drinks so her reaction was understandable.
The sword hummed on his back. Maybe he was getting too comfortable with the waitress, especially returning the smile that she gave him.
The food wasn't the problem. It was how difficult he tried to eat as the crowded adventurers continuously bumped behind him. Michael wondered how many the guild had to send in order to make a statement to Falden. How could a trained military be afraid of drunkards was something Michael wanted to know.
"There you are!" someone drifted to his table. "You found something to eat?"
Michael nodded, carefully moving the spoonful of soup to his mouth before anybody would bump his arm. Stefan obviously looked way too happy with a bottle of booze in his right hand.
"I talked with them," Stefan gestured around. "And guess what, we're all on the same quest to defend this town!"
Michael thought the soup was lukewarm. Though, he didn't complain as this was far better from chewing on dried meat.
"You know, I recognize some of these people here. And I can tell you right now, we should be in great hands."
Michael looked around. He didn't know if Stefan was trying to be sarcastic but they were nowhere the meaning of good hands.
"Look, kid," he placed down his bottle. "Don't get friendly, okay? I know you're good, you want to impress people, but these guys will eat you alive when they have the chance."
"I don't think I want to be friends with anyone here."
"Good kid," he laughed. "That's the spirit, don't trust none of these wasted men that do nothing but drink."
Michael thought that was sort of ironic.
"Look, finish your meal," he sipped his bottle. "I need to go find where the hell they went—"
A man stopped in front of him. "Stefan Jaegen…I was actually hoping that you wouldn't make it."
Stefan spread his arms. "And as you can see, your prayers did not work."
"You better not screw this over for the rest of us, you hear me?"
"Yeah, yeah, loud and clear," Stefan pushed him aside. "It's not like I'm the only problem here, am I?"
The man scoffed as Stefan walked away.
Michael actively sipped on his soup, watching the friendly banter unfold. He thought looking into this man's eyes was uncomfortable. His face was grizzled, like he had seen better days, and he did not like how long Michael was staring at him.
"You got a problem, kid?" the man growled. "Are you dumb or something?"
Michael bounced his eyes away, trying to pretend nobody was standing in front of him.
"Are you a part of Stefan's party?"
Michael didn't know why this man was still talking to him.
"You just gonna ignore me?"
"Uhh…"
The man smacked away Michael's bowl of soup, splattering it across the ground. The crowd fell silent for a second, following the sudden sound of metal rattling around.
Michael gently placed his spoon on the table. He didn't know if he should look at the man or still pretend like he didn't exist.
The man moved closer to his face. "Are you deaf? I asked you a question."
Michael noticed the smell of his breath, inching his nose away.
"What's wrong? You can't handle confrontation? Didn't Stefan teach you how to—"
"You're drunk."
The man smacked Michael across the face so hard, he was completely sent to the floor. Michael wasn't concerned about the weight that he carried behind that blow. He was more concerned about how hard his sword was humming on his back.
"You got a smart-mouth," the man towered over Michael. "Just like that bastard Stefan."
Michael wiped the blood from his nose.
"Stop!" the waitress interrupted them, dropping her basket of bread. "You can't fight in here!"
Michael recognized her. It was the same woman that had served him his soup. She was trying to protect him.
"Move," the man ordered. "I'm going to teach this kid a lesson."
"You can't—" she hesitated as shielded herself over Michael. "You can't fight in here."
"I won't ask again."
The waitress didn't move.
The man smacked her away as the crowd laughed and whistled with anticipation.
Something burned in Michael's chest. He sprung from the ground and unsheathed his sword. There was that rush of exhilaration flowing through his body again as Evelyn coated him with her magic. The feeling of the bond was taking him over.
"Really?" the man sneered. "What do you think you're going to do with that?"
He isn't a mage, the voice said, so my magic is going to be useless.
Michael already knew that. He also knew that his chances of winning were low to begin with. Though, that didn't stop the fact that he needed to stand up for the people of this town. He imagined being warned of an attack and only being sent parties of adventurers that caused nothing but trouble.
They weren't even here to protect the town but only feed their pleasures away from the laws of Aldoria. Michael wasn't a hero though his morals were far greater than any adventurer here.
Kick his ass, the voice said, don't let him get away with this.
Michael couldn't agree more. He thrusted his sword and slashed about. He wasn't aiming for deep cuts or major injuries. This man needed to feel some type of consequence even if Michael couldn't achieve that. Nobody could put their hands on an innocent person.
The man weaved around, taunting Michael with words that he didn't want to translate. They were leagues above him yet he didn't care.
Michael pulled his sword back and quickly spun around, surprising the man and inflicting a small cut on his tunic.
He stepped back, offended that a small child was able to touch him. He drawed his sword and charged back.
Michael parried his attacks. His blows were heavy, having Michael imagine if he was carrying any mana in his attacks. The man continued an unrelenting flow of strike after strike, each withering down Michael's defense.
This wasn't even the same when he trained with Mave. She always defeated Michael by disarming him or knocking him to the floor.
But when he was fighting with this man, it didn't feel like that at all. It was as if he was so driven into this pleasure of overwhelming victory, he could almost excuse it by killing Michael.
The voice in his head started to change. She started to sound more worried the more this fight lasted. She could feel the fear building in his body. She knew where this was going the more Michael jumbled his mind just trying to process through this man's attacks.
The man swung his sword upwards, breaking through Michael's defense.
Michael held his breath, commanding his arms to ready for another guard. But it was too late. The man had already pulled back his sword into another thrust aimed right at Michael's chest.
Judging at the speed, he wasn't holding anything back. The voice in his head couldn't ring any louder.