The Drunken Masters

The throne room was in a state of utter disbelief and chaos, the weight of Arthur's casual revelation about Excalibur still hanging heavily in the air. Gundrik, the gruff former general, was the first to break the stunned silence, his voice booming with a mix of annoyance and exasperation.

"You stupid bastard of a king!" Gundrik shouted, his face red as he pointed an accusatory finger at Arthur. "Excalibur is Aetherlight's national treasure! It's one of the two divine weapons in the kingdom, alongside the Holy Sword Aetherion that the current Hero is using! How could you just give it away like it was some trinket?!"

Arthur, however, was completely unfazed by Gundrik's outburst. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, his booming "WAHAHAHA!" echoing through the throne room. "Come now, old friend! It's all in the past. No use crying over spilled milk, eh? Now, let's go to your tavern! Treat me to a round of booze! Hey, Theron, Lancelot, you come too!" he said, slapping Gundrik on the back with enough force to make the burly general stagger.

"Damnit, Arthur! Stop dragging me into your nonsense, you bastard!" Gundrik protested, though his annoyance lacked any real anger. Despite his gruff exterior, it was clear that he held no genuine ill will toward Arthur. The two had been through too much together for that.

Lancelot sighed deeply, shaking his head as he watched the scene unfold. Theron, on the other hand, chuckled softly, his amusement evident. "Some things never change," Theron remarked, his tone fond. "Arthur's still the same reckless, carefree man he's always been."

As Arthur began to stride out of the throne room, Gundrik reluctantly followed, grumbling under his breath. Theron and Lancelot trailed behind, the former generals exchanging knowing looks. Despite the chaos Arthur had caused, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie among them.

Back in the throne room, Rosalinda massaged her temples, her expression a mix of exasperation and resignation. "Honestly," she muttered, "the fact that he gave Excalibur away means he must have deemed the kingdom no longer needs that kind of power. Still, he could have at least consulted us before making such a decision."

The Queen, meanwhile, was trying to rouse King Arnold, who was still slumped in his throne, his eyes rolled back and his lips mumbling incoherently about Excalibur being given to a random kid. "Dear, please get ahold of yourself," the Queen said gently, patting his cheek in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

Art, standing nearby, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Haha... Well, at least Dad never changed," he said, his tone affectionate as he thought of Arthur. He then stepped forward to help Arnold up, slinging the king's arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Uncle Arnold. Let's get you to the infirmary." With the assistance of a few maids, Art guided the still-muttering king out of the throne room.

As the room slowly emptied, the former generals and advisors exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief. Lyandra, Eclipse's mother and one of the kingdom's advisors, sighed deeply, shaking her head. "Honestly, Arthur..." she muttered under her breath, though there was a hint of fondness in her voice. Despite his recklessness, Arthur had always been a larger-than-life figure, and his return, however temporary, had brought a sense of nostalgia and warmth to the kingdom.

And so, the day continued, with Arthur dragging his old friends to Gundrik's tavern for drinks, King Arnold recovering from his shock in the infirmary, and the rest of the kingdom left to ponder the unpredictable nature of their former king. One thing was certain: life in Aetherlight was never dull when Arthur was around.

The tavern was alive with the warm glow of lanterns and the low hum of chatter as patrons enjoyed their drinks and meals. Mixarnt sat at his usual spot, sipping on a glass of orange juice, his mind still lingering on the pleasant evening he'd spent escorting Alyssia back to the palace. The night was peaceful, and he was content to enjoy his meal alone—until the unexpected arrival of Arthur, Gundrik, Lancelot, and Theron disrupted the tranquility.

"Hey, old man, why are you sitting here in my seat?" Mixarnt asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement as he glared at Arthur, who had casually plopped himself down across from him.

Arthur grinned, completely unfazed. "Ah, right. Mixarnt is my protégé, by the way," Gundrik declared proudly, puffing out his chest as he took a seat next to Arthur.

"Bah, Mixarnt is my student, you bastard," Arthur retorted, immediately wrestling Gundrik in a playful but competitive manner, the two of them nearly knocking over the table.

"What are you two talking about? He's my disciple," Lancelot interjected, his tone calm but firm as he sat down on Mixarnt's other side, completely ignoring the chaos unfolding between Arthur and Gundrik.

Theron, watching the scene unfold, burst into laughter. "Hahaha! You're a popular boy, Mixarnt!" he said, slapping the young man on the back.

Mixarnt groaned, rubbing his temples. "Who said I agreed to be under any of you old geezers?" he protested, though his words were met with hearty laughter from the three men.

As the banter continued, the three "old geezers" leaned in closer to Mixarnt, their expressions suddenly turning sly. Lancelot was the first to whisper, "I'll help you court Eclipse."

Gundrik, not to be outdone, leaned in as well. "I'll make sure you and Sunshine get together," he said with a wink.

Arthur, ever the wildcard, added with a mischievous grin, "Psst, I'll introduce you to a hot adventurer babe in Caspade."

Mixarnt's jaw dropped, his face flushing red as he stared at the three men in disbelief. "Y-you bastards... bribing me?" he stammered, his voice a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

Theron, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, nodded approvingly, impressed by Mixarnt's sense of justice. But his admiration was short-lived as Mixarnt suddenly broke into a grin and said, "Make sure you three hold on to your promises! Hehe!"

The tavern erupted with laughter as Mixarnt joined in, his earlier annoyance replaced by amusement. Gundrik, Lancelot, and Arthur roared with laughter, clearly pleased with their successful bribery.

Theron, however, looked utterly defeated. "H-hey, we haven't even had a drink yet, but you three are already acting like drunks. Mixarnt, don't get influenced by those three bastards!" he protested, though his words fell on deaf ears.

The four of them—Mixarnt, Arthur, Gundrik, and Lancelot—were already deep in their laughter, their camaraderie infectious. Theron sighed, realizing there was no stopping them, and finally gave up, joining in with a reluctant chuckle.

As the night wore on, the tavern filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional playful argument. Mixarnt, surrounded by the legendary figures of Aetherlight, couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. Despite their eccentricities, these "old geezers" had become an irreplaceable part of his life, and he wouldn't have it any other way.