Chapter 42

Gulp Gulp Gulp

"Ah~ that hit the spot~" Quincy sighed in satisfaction, slamming her empty tankard onto the wooden table. It was her sixth—much to the surprise of everyone seated with her.

"You can drink a lot," Zeva remarked, taking a slow sip from her glass of wine.

Quincy grinned as she reached for the pitcher to pour herself another. "I'm a half-blood! It'll take a lot to get me drunk!" she declared, her voice steady, not even the slightest bit slurred.

Zeva turned to Mae. "What about you? Not drinking?"

Mae chuckled, shaking her head. "No, alcohol and me don't mix all that well. I get very feisty when I'm drunk," she said with a smirk.

In truth, the reason she wasn't drinking had nothing to do with getting feisty. As an elf, her alcohol tolerance was terrible. A few sips would have her lightheaded, and an entire glass—let alone a tankard—would get her outright drunk.

"Come on, sister, you don't have to act cool," Zee teased, nudging Mae with her shoulder. "You can be honest." A playful smile crossed her lips. It wasn't often she got the chance to tease her older twin.

After Xain's suggestion, everyone had agreed to spend the day hanging out. Every single fighter—excluding Mellow—joined in, along with Quincy. The group followed Xain to the Raging Eagle inn, where the innkeeper was more than happy to serve so many famous and infamous figures.

Along the way, the fighters brought back their friends to join them. Even rounded up Dirk and Lia, while Xain gathered Zee, Larkin, Drack, 'Nerissa', Roland, Elsa, and Clara. Ulrich—begrudgingly—was accompanied by the leader of the Stormclaws. Sir Bryanard was joined by some soldiers that served under him a few times, and Sir Calvinel had women at his side. Other fighters pulled in their own companions, though some—like Gurion, Zeva, and others—had no one they knew in Arcadicia.

"Seriously, we never expected to run into y'all here," Larkin said, taking a swig of whiskey. The drinks had been on the house, a small reward for bringing in so much business.

"Same here," Even agreed. "Imagine my surprise when I saw the brat in the waiting room? I thought I was seeing things." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "And then I meet her—the elf's twin sister, who I thought was the elf? Confused the hell out of me."

Lia chuckled. "Still, it's fun seeing you all again. Last time, we were enemies at first, then allies, then we went our separate ways. We never really got the chance to just sit and talk."

"Well, now's the time to talk all ya want," Larkin said with a grin before glancing at the table behind them. "Though, looks like your friend's more excited to meet someone else."

Across the room, Dirk sat with Ulrich and the leader of the Stormclaws, his usually stoic expression replaced with something close to excitement.

"I never thought I'd get to meet either of you," Dirk admitted. "Both of you are legends."

The Stormclaws' leader, scoffed and took a swig of his drink. "I don't know what's so good about this bastard that people call him a legend," he muttered, jerking a thumb at Ulrich. "He's just a criminal who destroyed my fort."

Ulrich chuckled, slapping the mercenary on the shoulder. "Come on, Arnan, you talk like I ruined your whole damn livelihood. All I did was wreck an old fort and kick your ass."

Arnan let out a heavy sigh and took another drink.

At another table, Xain glanced at 'Nerissa.' "So, you were born mute?"

'She' nodded.

"That must be tough," said the man sitting next to 'her'—one of the fighters who hadn't been introduced when Quincy was introducing everyone. He was slightly taller than 'Nerissa,' with flowing silver hair that reached his hips. His attire was entirely white, a heavy garb covering most of his body. A thick scarf and a wide-brimmed hat hid all but his striking green eyes. Judging by his features, Xain estimated that he was young—not as young as himself, but still young, maybe in his early twenties.

"It's fine," Nori wrote, playing the character of Nerissa. "Makes life harder, but it's not too bad."

At another table—

"This place is so atmospheric, Elsa! I love it!" Clara gushed, looking around with wide eyes.

"You act like a hyperactive child every time we go somewhere like this," Elsa remarked, sipping her water. She couldn't drink, she had to watch after Clara after all.

"Well, we don't go to places like this often! How can I not be excited?" Clara shot back, placing her hands on her hips with a bright smile.

Across from them, Gurion sat quietly, drinking coffee since he didn't drink alcohol. He glanced between the two girls, then at the lively surroundings, then back at his drink.

*Why am I at this table?* he wondered, feeling out of place.

At another table—

"So, any weaknesses I should know about?" the gunslinger asked Bryanard, adjusting the brim of his wide, slanted hat. "I need all the advantages I can get."

Bryanard gave him a blank, questioning look. "Just because you asked nicely doesn't mean I'm going to tell you how to beat me."

The gunfighter sighed. "Figured."

"I can tell him your weaknesses if you want," Calvinel offered with a smirk.

Bryanard shot him a glare, and Calvinel raised his hands with a grin. "I'm just joking." Then, glancing around the crowded inn, he set his drink down and stood. "By the way, there are a lot of people here we haven't been properly introduced to yet."

Stepping to the center of the tables, he called out, "Everyone! Even though we're all competitors and will have to fight each other, that doesn't mean we can't be friendly. So why don't we all introduce ourselves properly?"

The gathered fighters glanced around at one another, considering his words.

Then, one person stood up and opened their mouth.