Chapter 56: Tavern chaos
"What is a big shot like her coming to Vossier for?" A customer asked.
"I’m sure they have some secret agenda or something. There’s no way a family as big as the Rothschilds would come to Vossier for something as trivial as this" another explained.
"I don’t really care about thoae conspiracies, what I’m really interested in is seeing that beauty in real life" Another man spoke
The tavern burst into laughter and the atmosphere became livelier.
My grip on the table tightened visibly as I listened to the disgusting remarks they made of Miriam.
The server returned with our order and the pleasant scent of the wyvern meat penetrated my nostrils, but the bubbling anger within me overwhelmed the stimulation.
"Mm...this smells nice" My host for the evening spoke as he took a whiff of the meat, seemingly oblivious to the indecent statements flying around.
’If I should kill everyone here, would there be any serious repercussions’ I reasoned seriously whilst stabbing the meat on my plate.
"For such a big shot to come to Vossier for something that happened so long ago. If that isn’t suspicious, then I don’t know what is"
Shaking my head lightly to dispel the destructive thoughts, I answered, "It probably is, but schemes are what nobles do best".
"Woah! You said more than ten words! That’s a new record!" He exclaimed in shock as his face leaned forward, "I bet you can’t make a full conversation with me"
’Is that supposed to be a provocation?’ I wondered while putting a piece of meat in my mouth.
"Come on, say something interesting~, I know—"
"Ey boys! What do you think Lady Miriam would say if I showed her my long fat Pike, eh?!"
The commotion rose to higher levels as the man who uttered those words climbed on a table while grabbing his lower region.
"I heard Lady Miriam is a fan of boy toys! Maybe she’ll take me in as one when she sees it! Don’t you think so boys?!" He continued.
The anger that had been slowly bubbling within me rose to unprecedented levels and reason had long lost it’s place in my mind.
"Clark, hold on what are you—"
Ignoring him, I shoved my chair back, the legs screeching against the floor loud enough to cut through the tavern’s noise. My scythe appeared in my grip before I even realized it, and all eyes locked on me.
The idiot froze mid-pose, still holding his crotch with a disgusting look on his face. His grin faltered when our eyes met.
Low gasps went up around the room, the sound of mugs being smacked on the table in anticipation of what to come. The music of the bard long gone.
"Say it again," I said, my voice low but sharp enough to cut glass.
He gave a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. "H-hey, relax, it was just a joke—"
My scythe sliced into the leg of the table he stood on, splitting it clean in half. The sudden imbalance causing him to stumble on the ground.
"Is that kid crazy? He’s just an F rank and he’s acting like some hot shot" One man complained.
"I didn’t notice earlier, but it’s true! Kids these days don’t really know how high the sky is!"
Another mocked with more vigor than the last, "He’s probably some new kid from the academy and wants to earn some brownie points for defending the honor of Lady Miriam"
Similar comments made their way around the room and my unsuspecting victim had a confident smile on his face as he bravely stared at me.
’That’s right, let your ego be boosted so I can tear you down limb from limb and hear your screams drown out the ones that live in my head’
"I’ll let you off with a warning this time kiddo, but I won’t be so merciful as to let you go next time, so get on out of here"
A confident smile still plastered on his face, the man pushed me lightly as he walked past me.
Almost immediately, I swung my scythe in a horizontal motion, the blade almost cutting his head clean off, if not for his timely dodge due to someone’s warning.
He immediately turned around with fear in his eyes, the tavern went silent once again, the clinking of metals from the corner lightening the heavy silence.
Almost immediately, a customer exclaimed with shock apparent in his voice:
"Y–you’re the kid that wiped out a whole goblin village a few months ago!"
My scythe hand twitched. I wanted to swing again and end it before the drunk fool could breathe another word, but that voice cut through the haze of rage. I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing on the man who’d spoken.
I didn’t really recognize him, but the only people who could’ve known I did that were those who were present in the hunter’s guild that month.
Not giving him any more attention. My eyes refocused on my victim just in time as a wide fist nearly connected with my face.
I bent back at the waist, the punch whistling past my nose. His knuckles cracked against the wooden table behind me, causing a few splinters to fly.
"Get him!" someone shouted.
Another voice joined in, "Teach that brat a lesson!"
"Drok was obviously lying! There’s no way an F ranked kid could pull off such a feat!"
The tavern erupted into a frenzy, shouts and drunken encouragement bouncing off the walls. Chairs scraped giving more space in the bar, the wooden mugs toppled as the people watched on in excitement, and the once-warm air thickened with tension.
The drunkard roared and swung again, wild but heavy. I shifted sideways, his fist barely grazing my shoulder. Without hesitation, I slammed my elbow into his ribs. The dull thud was satisfying, though he only staggered, and there was mostly anger than pain in his eyes.
Gasps and jeers rose from the crowd. Someone hurled a half-empty mug, ale splashing across the floorboards, a few making contact with my cloak.
The man snarled, snatching up a chair and swinging it like a club. I ducked, wood cracking against the pillar behind me. I drove my boot into his knee, forcing him down, then used the handle of my scythe to hit him across the face with just enough force to knock out one of his teeth.
"Woah! Did you see that?!" a patron yelled, half-cheering, half-horrified.
The table gave way, sending plates and stew scattering across the floor. He pushed himself up with surprising speed, bloodshot eyes glaring at me, and lunged again. I sidestepped and grabbed a glass from the counter, smashing it across his temple. The shards glittered as they scattered, and the bar cheered louder.
"Break his damn teeth!" someone howled.
Through it all, my breathing was steady, controlled. His swings grew sloppier, desperation driving him, while every dodge, every counter of mine came sharper and faster, my new strength making the gap obvious. But the noise, the flying mugs, the chaos of bodies pressing close kept me sharp.
I could end it in one clean strike, but part of me wanted him to squirm, to make him feel despair, to let him know the feeling of trying to crawl out of a dark hole but never getting to the surface.
And I gave in completely to that urge.
Grabbing his outstretched fist and twisting behind him, I lifted his body into the air and planted it into a nearby table, his groan and low gasps from the spectators fuelling my dying anger.
As I picked him up by the collar, I dropped my scythe back into my storage unit and mounted him with a large piece of wood in my hand.
"H–hey that’s enough, you’ve won okay?" One of the patrons spoke dissuasively.
The wood connected with his face, a sickening crack sounding from his cheek bones.
The low hisses of the crowd and the low pleas of the man were all that I could hear at that moment.
The voices were no longer present, I could feel my heart pump once more, the emotions were there, but it was mostly anger than anything else.
Still, it was something. So I did what every reasonable person would do. I continued smashing the wood against his face.
The continuous cracking of bones that followed after each swing resonated in my mind, the warm splatter of blood on my face from the man’s mouth showing how much he had gone through and the silence of the tavern making the atmosphere more tense.
His swollen face and the blood that had mixed in with his tears only served to fuel me the more, as I prepared to swing down for the umpteenth time.
My hands stopped mid-air, not because I willed it so, but because someone else had the audacity to hold them.
"I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?"