Chapter 6: The Mystery of Avery

Avery

As I slowly regained consciousness, my head throbbed with pain and my thoughts were still hazy. Blinking away the dizziness, I realized I was bound to a chair in the midst of a bustling tavern. Across from me sat Max, a mischievous grin spread across his face like he had just pulled off the prank of the century

I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration welling up inside me. Max's smirk only fueled my desire to break free and give him a piece of my mind. But as I struggled against the ropes binding me, I couldn't deny his skill in tying knots; they held firm, refusing to yield to my efforts.

Max's words cut through the air, his tone laced with mockery. "I know who you are, Avery," he taunted, sending a shiver down my spine. My resolve wavered, but I remained silent. Then came his unexpected question: "What do the Blessed Guardians want?" My heart skipped a beat. How did he know about the band? Fear and confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to comprehend the situation.

Before I could utter a word, Max revealed his method: he had discreetly placed a tracker on me during our sword practice. As he explained, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I hadn't anticipated such a move, and now I found myself ensnared by my own carelessness. It was a reminder of the Reverend mother's warning: my recklessness would be my downfall.

Max: "Gee, I sure am hungry. Let's order something."

Avery: "I refuse to eat with a man who almost killed me."

Her stomach grumbles

Max: Smiling "Looks like your stomach disagrees. I'll order for us."

He orders the food, which arrives shortly after. It's a common but delicious meal, with a side of bread.

Avery, despite her initial reluctance, can't resist the aroma of the food. She starts eating, ignoring Max's amused smile.

Max: "I'm willing to keep your secret a secret, only if you become my bodyguard."

Avery looks at him in confusion.

Max: "Come on, Avery, don't be so stiff! We're practically partners in crime now."

Avery glares at him, but her stomach betrays her with another grumble.

Max: "See? Even your stomach knows I make good choices."

Avery rolls her eyes but can't help but feel a pang of hunger.

Max: "And think about it, with me as your employer, you'll never go hungry again! I'll whip up the most delicious meals for you, anytime, anywhere."

Avery considers this, her resistance weakening with each mention of food.

Avery: "Fine, but only because I'm hungry. And don't expect me to be your bodyguard forever."

Max: "Deal! You won't regret this, Avery. I promise, we're going to make a great team!"

Avery grumbles something unintelligible under her breath as she continues eating, but a small smirk plays on her lips.

Max grinned mischievously as he ordered the strongest dwarven wine Uncle Joe had to offer. Avery's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the dark liquid pour into Max's cup.

Avery: "Are you crazy? You can't drink that stuff!"

Max chuckled, "Come on, Avery, don't tell me you're scared of a little wine. Or should I get you some milk instead?"

Her cheeks flushed with anger, Avery grabbed the bottle and took a large swig, determined to prove him wrong. But as the potent drink hit her system, her bravado quickly turned to dizziness.

Avery: "Ugh, this is awful!"

Max reached out to stop her, but it was too late. She downed the entire bottle in one go, and before she knew it, the room was spinning. She glared at Max, her words slurred with intoxication.

Avery grumbled, "This is all...hic...all your fault, you know thaa...hic...aat? You and your stuuupid wiiine!...hic..."

Avery grinned drunkenly, "Hey, Max! Did you know that...hic... that ducks can fly backwardsh? It'sh true! I read it... in a book!"

Max couldn't help but laugh at her random revelation. "Really? That's... fascinating, Avery."

But before he could say anything else, Avery's expression turned serious, her words slurring together.

"You look... lonely, Max."

Max's laughter died down as he gazed at her, his expression softening. "Well, I guess ducks aren't the only ones with surprising talents.

Max sighed as Avery finally passed out, slumping over the table. "Well, this certainly spoiled my mood," he muttered to himself.

Uncle Joe approached, concern evident in his eyes. "Is she gonna be alright, Max?"

Max waved off the worry with a grin. "Oh, she'll be fine. Just needs a good night's sleep to sleep it off. Now, about those two bottles of dwarven wine..."

Uncle Joe hesitated, clearly worried about Max's own well-being. "Are you sure you should be drinking so much, Max? You're still a growing lad, you know."

Max chuckled, pouring himself another glass. "Don't worry, Uncle Joe. I've got a high tolerance for this stuff. Besides, who else is gonna keep you company?"

Uncle Joe chuckled at the jest, his concern easing slightly. "Fair point, Max. Fair point. So, what's on your mind?"

Max leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of wine. "Actually, I was wondering about your younger son. How's he doing these days?"

A warmth filled Uncle Joe's eyes as he spoke about his son, his voice tinged with pride and love. The two of them shared stories and memories, their laughter mingling with the chatter of the tavern.

As Max and Uncle Joe conversed, a stout dwarf approached, clad in fine white garments. He introduced himself as Grimbolt Ironbeard, a slave trader, his eyes gleaming with interest as he glanced at Avery.

"Does this lovely red-haired elf belong to you, lad?" Grimbolt inquired, his tone businesslike.

Max grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, but she's not for sale, my friend. However, I'd be willing to part with her... if you can beat me in a wine-drinking competition."

Uncle Joe's eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Grimbolt's face split into a wide grin. "You've got yourself a deal, lad!"

They were led to a table adorned with barrels of dwarven wine, the spectators gathering around with eager anticipation. The air buzzed with excitement as the competition began.

Glass after glass, the two competitors drank, their determination unwavering. Cheers erupted from the crowd with each emptying tankard, urging them on.

After what seemed like an eternity, Max emerged victorious, a triumphant grin on his face. Grimbolt, though defeated, laughed heartily, acknowledging Max's victory.

True to his word, Grimbolt paid for everyone's drinks, the tavern erupting into raucous applause. Max, still sober amidst the revelry, called for the music to be cranked up, and soon the whole tavern was alive with dancing and merriment, the night far from over.

As the tavern emptied and the night settled in, Uncle Joe, diligent in his cleaning, observed the late hour. With genuine concern etched in his weathered features, he approached Max, who was preparing to depart.

"Max, lad, it's late. You sure you don't wanna stay? We got a spare room upstairs," Uncle Joe offered, his gravelly voice tinged with warmth.

Max shook his head with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Uncle Joe, but I reckon I better get back. Got an early start tomorrow."

Uncle Joe nodded, understanding. "Fair enough, lad. But don't be a stranger now. Tavern's always open for you."

"Appreciate it, Uncle Joe. 'Til next time," Max replied, clasping the older man's hand in gratitude.

With a final farewell, Max made his way out into the cool night air, Avery slumbering soundly on his back. The gentle glow of the tavern's lanterns faded behind him as he ventured into the darkness, his thoughts drifting to the mysteries of the night and the mysterious girl who had somehow pierced his carefully constructed mask.