002
"Having too much magic isn't always a good thing," Rod muttered as he leisurely strolled down the path.
The magic within him felt endless, constantly surging and spreading outward.
Even a wisp of this power escaping from him was enough to render everything within hundreds of meters lifeless.
Rod had to treat his body like a vessel, doing his best to contain the violent energy within.
He had no choice but to be cautious. If he lost control for even a moment, the outburst of magic could obliterate an entire town in an instant.
He certainly didn't want to be responsible for thousands of deaths due to a moment of carelessness.
Not long after, a small village came into view.
Rod glanced at the few silver coins in his pocket and decided to indulge himself at the tavern.
He didn't have enough for an evening with two charming tavern girls, but a couple of rum drinks and a bed for the night seemed doable.
"Maybe I'll check if there are any new bounty posters while I'm at it."
Taverns like this often had bounty notices from various kingdoms posted on their walls.
From ruthless criminals to dangerous magical beasts, even demons.
With some luck, there might be a hefty reward for slaying a dragon, rescuing a princess, or even inheriting a throne.
The kinds of stories minstrels[1] loved to tell about legendary heroes often started in places like this.
Whether those tales were real or pure fiction was something only they knew.
Ding-a-ling!
The tavern's bell jingled as Rod stepped into the lively, chaotic scene.
Scantily clad women dressed as maids wandered between the tables, balancing trays of cheap rum.
This rough but potent liquor was a favorite of minstrels and traveling merchants alike.
Rod found a quiet corner and took a seat, away from the bustling crowd.
A maid in a revealing outfit approached him with a bright smile.
As she passed by a table, a burly man with a thick beard laughed heartily and gave her a firm slap on her ample hips.
These tavern girls, though not stunningly beautiful, had a certain charm.
The tavern owner clearly knew how to run the place, filling it with these alluring women who knew how to please the eye.
One couldn't help but wonder where the owner had found these enchanting ladies.
Rod ordered a cup of rum, then quietly listened to the traveling minstrels as they spun their tales.
"In the northern lands, there is a small kingdom. Their princess has skin as white as snow, lips red as blood, and a perfect figure. Princes from far and wide dream of making her their bride."
"This Snow White princess also has a stepmother, a queen of unparalleled beauty. No one knows her origins, but half the men in the kingdom are bewitched by her. Every man who lays eyes on her can't help but make her the object of his deepest desires."
The minstrel painted an alluring picture of the queen's beauty, exaggerating her charms.
In no time, he had turned the queen into a seductive and licentious woman, rumored to be available to any man.
The gathered patrons listened with rapt attention, not caring whether the stories were true or not.
After all, they were just a group of common folk, seeking a brief escape from their hard lives with a bit of drink and fantasy.
'Snow White and her stepmother? What a coincidence.'
Rod raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of rum.
The bitter, malty flavor filled his mouth, followed by a subtle yet strong aftertaste that lingered pleasantly.
[1]: Minstrel(from Latin ministerium, "service")— between the 12th and 17th centuries, a professional entertainer of any kind, including jugglers, acrobats, and storytellers; more specifically, a secular musician, usually an instrumentalist.
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