Chapter 232 — Amber, Queen of the Tavern
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 3
But startled or not, he calmly filled a cup with the vile black rye, and as he handed it over he stole a glance beneath the hood—only to find it wrapped in a mass of shadow that would not thin.
Playing tricks with ghosts and spirits.
Anton sharpened his guard and, without betraying anything, signaled the lad to check on the goings-on outside the door. But the lad had barely taken a step when the cloaked figure spat out every drop of the ale she had just drunk with a loud "pfft!"—a commotion so violent it was as though she feared no one would notice. Having spat it out, she slammed the cup down on the counter with a bang: "You used to water down your liquor—now you're spiking your water with liquor, is that it?! Believe I'll smash this place of yours to bits!"
The patrons might have looked like they were carousing and raising hell, but every one of them had sharp eyes and ears. In an instant, nearly every soul had noticed the disturbance by the counter, and, well versed in "the rules," they realized at once: someone had come to make trouble.
What followed happened in an instant: everyone near the counter all but teleported away to a distance, each snatched up his cup and his food and found the best vantage for the show, the swindlers began laying odds and opening bets at the neighboring tables, and the pickpockets seized the moment to look for who might be worth fleecing.
Anton leisurely tossed his rag and cup aside, gave his burly shoulders a small roll—and felt relief instead: only someone here to wreck the place. That was much easier to handle.
Fists would teach this fool who didn't know death from life how to behave.
And the short cloaked figure before him raised a hand and pulled down the hood that had hidden her face, revealing the features of a half-elf.
Anton looked at that face, lifted his arms to make the muscles of his chest swell, and on his scarred face spread an ugly grin: "Big Sister, how about I put on a show for you—busting a boulder on my chest, want to see..."
The patrons all set to enjoy the spectacle: "..."
Amber glared at the bald ugly man: "...Damn, how are you even more shameless than before?!"
"After you've flexed your muscles and only then realize the other party can't be beaten, how to back down without looking too awkward—you were the one who specifically taught us that back in the day," the grin on Anton's face grew ever brighter—or ever uglier. "Big Sister! It really is you! Where have you been all these years?!"
Only now did the tavern's patrons seem to shake off their stupor, and whispers began rising from every corner. Some of them clearly recognized who the figure standing at the counter was; some wore astonishment, some delight, some awe—but without exception they quickly grew excited and stirred. The rest were plainly at a loss, and began tugging at those beside them to ask in low voices what was the story with this half-elf who had appeared out of nowhere. These were mostly newcomers who had only become active here in the past couple of years.
Amber's pointed ears twitched, and she turned her head to glance with a half-smile: "Plenty of new faces. Nearly half of them don't know me."
Anton murmured beside her, "It's been several years since you left this place..."
"Fine then, let the new ones get to know me," Amber yawned, raised a hand, and snapped her fingers. "Sober up, all of you! You little brats!"