4 Glass of Water

Tycon examined the giant fellow sharing his table. His muscles were comically oversized and his exposed skin was covered in healed claw-marks and cuts. His face and smile were broad and his head was covered in a mane of bright red hair.

He looked trustworthy... if a bit dim.

« System, inquiry: Who the hell is this? »

[System response: Dragan Ashlord.]

« I don't get anything worthwhile unless I ask properly... How frustrating. System, search: Information on this Dragan fellow. »

[Dragan Ashlord. Dominant Bloodline: Giant. Reputation: Trusted. Class:...]

« --That will do. System, display known names. And display aggression as name-color. »

[Setting change complete.]

The broad-faced giant grinned widely at Tycon, "Did you order yet? I could really use an ale!"

Tycon glanced upwards to see a transparent green Dragan appear above his head.

A transparent green name appeared over Barza's, while his associates had "??????" tags, colored in orange.

Tycon did a double-take on Barza's color. The bright green signified that it was incredibly unlikely for Barza to attack him.

Dragan followed Tycon's gaze and seemed to gain an understanding of the situation. Dragan spoke in a low voice, far more threatening, but still managing to retain a cruel playfulness, "BoOOOossSS! Are these guys booootttherrring yoOOoouuU??"

Barza and his men visibly paled. One had his hand on his sword hilt, which clattered in its sheath as he couldn't control his shaking. A fight between Dragan and the four would be as one-sided as a wolf against 3 raccoons and a pidgeon.

Tycon was inwardly pleased. This Dragan gentleman seemed to be useful to keep around.

...

Barza's companions all turned to him for an answer. Barza cursed his own luck, searching frantically for an excuse.

"N-n-n-no, sir! We were just… was just… talk'n! Talking! Ain't that right, sir!" Barza stuttered. He begged with his eyes, hoping that the young boss would show leniency.

The noble took a deep breath and sighed in response. Barza felt his heart drop and splash into the deep pit of his stomach. He glanced back at his companions, their faces revealing that they'd reached the same conclusion: Offending the green-haired youth was a mistake.

Tycon's annoyed face smoothly transitioned into a friendly smile, granting Barza and his men a slight bit of hope. But Barza held close, an inexplicable, growing sense of danger.

Tycon spoke cheerfully, "Mister Dragan! No, how embarrassing that you've the wrong idea! In fact, Mister Barza has *just* offered to pay for our meals."

Barza's heart and soul shook, "Y-yes, that's right, Sir Dragan. We were just talking to Sir.. uh…"

"Baron, actually. Baron Tycondrius," Tycon said with confidence.

Barza's psyche was struck with a shock, much more traumatizing than the others. He had offended a noble. He quickly glanced around to see who'd noticed--

Everyone. Everyone had noticed. Every pair of eyes in the dining hall stared at him with either pity or content.

Barza had approached Tycon because he looked young, his clothing wasn't especially opulent-- even his sword looked cheap! But the man spoke with so much confidence that he couldn't be anything but a noble...

"Mister Barza. On my honor... I cannot accept your kindness in paying for my meal," Tycon placed his hand on Barza's shoulder. Barza's heart soared. This was the forgiveness of a kind-hearted nobleman! It was like in the stories...

Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. Barza was not a wealthy man. In order to afford to sleep with a roof over his head, he needed to complete low-level missions from the Adventurer's Guild-- his wages from being in the Shadowdark Wolves was not nearly enough.

Every week, his hands and knees would be scraped raw from collecting berries. He couldn't often afford soap, so his armor stank of old sweat and goblin blood. One moon prior, he was ordered to lead the Wolves against a Dire Skunk --receiving a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose for his troubles.

He wished dearly for a chance to work for a kind, wealthy, and (most-of-all) generous noble like Sir Tycondrius.

...

The bubbly young waitress, Sorina, returned, placing down two hefty mugs of ale in front of Dragan and Tycon. "Two mugs of ale, Sir Baron. And your main dish is being grilled now."

Tycon nodded politely to the girl, then turned to Barza, "However, Mister Barza, I have been touched by your sincerity. I shall allow you to pay for my associate, Mister Dragan's meal."

Dragan grabbed one of the mugs of ale, "Ayyyyy! You're a great guy, Barzaaaa!" In a few scant seconds, he heartily drained the mug.

He turned to Sorina, "Pretty lady! I want ten of what the Boss is having!"

Sorina glanced at the size of the Giant-blooded man before deciding that asking for confirmation was unnecessary, "Of course, sir. And some more ale?"

"Oh, definitely! Thank you, Booze Angel!!"

Barza slumped down into the seat next to Dragan. His men silently withdrew-- being human and avoiding any more possible conflict, even at the cost of abandoning one of their own. Cowards.

Sorina cheerfully tilted her head, "And for you, Mister Barza?"

Barza stared at the wood of the table, too depressed to spot the tinge of blush that had appeared on Sorina's cheeks, "I'll… I'll have some water, please."

…

Tycon finished his meal, quite content. Barza had excused himself after emptying his wallet in paying for Dragan's meal.

Much of the dinner noise had died down, allowing Tycon to have a reasonable conversation with his new source of information.

"Mister Dragan." "Yea, Boss?"

"Where are we?" "A town."

"Very well... What's the name of the town?" "I dunno. Townsville?"

"I... highly doubt that." "Yeah, I doubt it, too."

"What is our current quest?" "I dunno. You usually tell us that."

"Us? ...Who else are we traveling with?" "Oh, you know… Uh… Tarquin. Lulu… Wolfbanger."

"Are those three different people or one very long, stupid, name?" Tycon narrowed his eyes.

"Three short, stupid names." Dragan raised his eyebrows, "Boss? Are… are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks…" Tycon waved the question off.

Tycon induced far less than he had hoped for. Being called Boss, he induced that he was a leader. And from the adventurer-heavy inn, being the leader of a Mercenary Guild would be logical.

He called over the Booze Angel, Sorina, and tipped her a gold piece.

The girl blushed and twirled her hair, "Oh, Sir Baron. I-- I don't know if Barza would--"

"Hey, pretty lady," Dragan sat the girl on his lap and she blushed even more deeply. Tycon considered stopping that behavior, but seeing that Sorina didn't look uncomfortable, he decided to allow it.

"Miss Sorina, I've a few questions I hope you can shed some light upon."

"Oh! Yes, sir. Of course!"

"What's this town known for?"

"The town of Nice is mostly known for its trade hub. Since an Adventurer's Guild was set up 2 epochs ago, merchant caravans have been always able to hire cheap guards amongst the various Mercenary Guilds and Adventuring Companies, as well as from solo adventurers."

'Clear, concise, practiced. I approve... I'm not going to tip her more than that gold piece, though.'

"What's the best way for a group to gain some coin and renown?"

Sorina crinkled her nose, looking up at the inn room's chandelier in thought. "The Adventurer's Guild always has higher-ranked quests for reagents or bounties for monsters."

"Oho, Boss." Dragan chimed, "The pretty lady's, pretty smart."

"Last question," Tycon interrupted. "Miss Sorina, have you seen any of my other companions?"

"Oh, yes, um… The Shifter and the kind-looking boy with blue hair. They haven't come back since they left the inn this morning. Oh, and your mount is still in the stables!"

'Three. That matches Dragan's numbers.'

Tycon sighed in reluctance. The girl was attentive and her responses were not lacking in any way. He looked over to Dragan, who appeared just as impressed-- It did not seem very difficult to impress Dragan.

Tycon's face remained expressionless as he placed a second gold coin on the table. A job well done must be rewarded. Still, Tycon felt his heart bleed with the loss of his coin. "Thank you, Miss Sorina. Direct me to the stables and you can be on your way."

Sorina stood energetically and granted Tycon a polite curtsy, "It's over that way, sir!"

"What about me, Boss?" Dragan asked, smirking and placing his arms behind his head.

"You can stay."

After Tycon walked off, Dragan moved his face closer to Sorina.

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"Can I get another order of the meat and potatoes?"