c31-32 (1/2)

Chapter 31 – Recommendation (Start)

At the same time Rumont went to handle the formalities at the Adventurers Guild. Inside a room at Kramp’s1 trading company, Banner, the boss of a small caravan group was currently in a discussion with his son, Fletcher2.

Fletcher was a young man, light blonde hair, with a prominent hooknose on his face. He had a well proportioned build, demonstrating a certain amount of accomplishments as a Warrior.

“Fletcher.” Banner kindly looked at him, calling his name out, “what do you think about the young Druid, Rumont?” his tone carried it about an inquisitive implication.

“Father!” Fletcher did not immediately reply. Instead, he wrinkled his forehead deep in thought for a while. Afterwards, he used a att.i.tude of certainty to discuss, “he’s a really naturally gifted one, at the same time, he acts and handles things with quite the wisdom. It’s said that he used to be an a.s.sistant back at Mort’s Inn, perhaps at that time, he learnt a few things.”

Banner gave out a satisfied expression on his face. However, it disappeared quickly once again: “if it’s like this, Fletcher, are you optimistic about his future?”

Fletcher was stumped, however he immediately replied: “yes father, I’m optimistic about his future. A youth full of talent and does things with wisdom, if misfortune doesn’t visit him, he’ll succeed.”

Banner had a satisfied smile. This time he was no longer restrained: “when clas.h.i.+ng with other young heroes, he’s a hero that outcla.s.ses them. Fletcher, since you’re optimistic about Rumont’s future, then invest like a businessman.”

Saying this, Banner took out from his clothings a scroll of parchment, the outside was well sealed by wax. There was a pattern stamped on the wax seal; this was Banner’s caravan group’s insignia.

Fletcher’s vision was on his father’s right forefinger. It was a ring that held the caravan’s insignia; there was still some wax left over.

“The city’s Grandmaster Sackville3, is a Magician worthy of the people’s respect. He’s an old friend of mine. Last time he found me, he wanted me look for some rudimentary Priests or Druids to do some things for him. He wanted someone that would make healing medicines for him. All in all, the Master can create a large majority of drugs, but is unable to make healing medicines. Currently, Fletcher, because of your choice, I’ve decided to recommend Rumont to him. This recommendation letter, I’ll let you hand it over to Rumont eh. Rumont’s currently in need of money, I believe you’ll be able to convince him of your good intentions.”

Banner handed over the recommendation letter in his hand over to his son seriously.

Fletcher nodded his head, cautiously accepting: “Father, I’ll go and find him at the Adventurers Guild right now.”

Banner nodded: “Go then.”

As Fletcher neared the doorway, he heard from behind him, his father’s whisperings: “it is said, good liquor is best test of a character; as for women, it is the measuring weight upon the balance on sin.”

Fletcher was filled with a burst of warmth, he couldn’t help but let out a smile.

It was an afternoon filled with brilliant sunlight.

When Rumont exited out of the Adventurers Guild, the red clouds in the western skies was already covering up half of the skies.

“Rumont!” a voice called out to him.

He was brought back amidst his ponderings of his future. Turning his head over, an adolescent was calling and waving from yonder.

Rumont recognized him. The caravan’s Chief, Banner’s son, Fletcher.

Within Rumont’s impressions, Fletcher was an exceptionally experienced merchant. This was mostly due to Banner’s teachings, which was the only thing, that was placed onto young Fletcher. This was probably his deepest, innermost trifling delusion of his colourful vain ambitions.

“Hey, Fletcher.” Rumont also waved.

“Rumont, let’s go find a place for a bite?” Fletcher walked over naturally.

As one that once worked in a crowded workplace, Rumont naturally understood Fletcher’s underlying intent, which was: Rumont, I’ve got something for you.

“Okay. I head old folks say liquor helps with digesting alcohol.” Rumont laughed crisply, walking on.

“It that so? I head Old Waylon’s4 liquor is a type of cider he made himself; the taste is pretty good.” Fletcher licked his lips, “to celebrate you becoming an Adventurer, how about my shout this time?”

“Then I won’t be polite.” Rumont said as he patted Fletcher’s shoulder.

When the duo arrived at the easter city’s Old Waylon’s pub, the sky was already turning dark. There weren’t many people inside the pub. Probably a little later, the Adventurers would come here to get drunk.

An old bald-headed fatty was behind the counter giving a cordial greeting: “hey there you two, what’ll it be?”

“Old Waylon, bring out your cider. Two serves.” Fletcher extended two fingers up, chuckling. Afterwards, he found a table to sit at inside, while casually pulling out a seat for Rumont.

Rumont laughed as he sat down; his mind was slightly blown. The old fellow behind the counter, smiling and greeting customers, his body had a thin halo. The halo was red in colour, like blood. This clearly showed the owner’s formidable vitality. Simultaneously, the slaughtering flavoured blood aura also indicated, that when he was younger, he had fought through a numerous amounts of combat.

Having detected this aura, Rumont deeply understood,that this old man ought to be a Rank 5 Warrior.

Understanding this point, Rumont again looked around him. The few people inside the pub, were mostly Adventurers, their expressions, when compared to the Adventurers seen back at when he was at Mort couple’s inn, really felt a quite bit more constrained.

Rumont paused briefly, before saying to Fletcher with a smile: “this Uncle Waylon, in his younger years was not a simple character.”

Fletcher’s face displayed a slight expression of shock and admiration mixed together: “how did you know?”

Rumont laughed: “as you know, in the past I once worked as an a.s.sistant at a tavern, those Adventurers always loved being rowdy. But here, when I just came in, I seemed to have found that everyone was a bit reserved. Afterwards, I looked around, and discovered that they always looked towards Old Waylon behind the counter. In that case, I then carefully observed Old Waylon. My conclusion was then not that hard to reach.”

Fletcher applauded softly: “perhaps only a keen person like you, would obtain Nature’s favour.”

Rumont laughed. In reality, a lot of the matters, once the results were known, looking for the initial traces and thinking it over was then as simple as viewing the lines on the palm.

At this time, a tall legged female attendant brought over two mugs of liquor.

“Rumont. Want something to eat?” Fletcher asked, “or perhaps, allow this charming lady to recommend the specialties of this place would be a better idea. Oh right, this cute lady, what is your name?” Fletcher in an instant displayed a masculine smile.

“Yvette, respectable patron.” the female attendant saucily lifted her skirt, slightly curtseying. Instantly, a chest full of snow white dazzled the pair’s eyes: there seemed to be a valley.

“Oh, you’re really enchanting, just like a real princess.” Fletcher exaggerated.

Rumont calmly laughed on the sidelines. After graduating university in the last life, he had once worked at a small office for a short time, as well as accompanied his superiors out for various places of debauchery. This kind of scene gave him a somewhat melancholy feeling, as a result, he lifted up his drink: “for the lovely Yvette, cheers.”

“For the lovely Yvette, cheers!” the lonely few patrons of the store heard this phrase and actually went so far as to heckle out as well, while they lifted their own drinks they were holding.

The pub’s atmosphere shortly became more lively. Alcohol and women would always cause the menfolk to become unbridled.

“Hey handsome.” Yvette exploited the chance to lean closer. Gently kissing Rumont’s lips, “compared with your flattering and honeyed words, I much prefer the glittering yellow of gold coins more.”

The heckling noises were even louder.

At this moment, a sharp voice rang out: “Yvette, you piece of trash, you’re actually going for this pretty boy!”

Rumont looked over at the opened pub door; interrupting was a fl.u.s.tered and exasperated young male. Feeling his own cheeks with a bitter smile: what is this? At Ricca, he was misunderstood by the petty-minded Priest, Dennis. Could a similar scenario once more be taking place inside Appleseed’s pub again?

Old Waylon’s cleaning of cups came to a halt. He slowly swallowed as he walked out from behind the counter, afterwards as it turns out, he blocked off the entrance pathway.

“Listen here kid. My Yvette is free. Whoever she fancies or perhaps, doesn’t fancies, is her choice. She doesn’t like you bothering her, therefore, Old Waylon doesn’t welcome you either.”

“You’re just a lowly boss of a pub, you actually dare speak to me like this? Do you know who I am? I, Jacobs, have taken a fancy to your daughter&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;” the youngster seems to be infuriated. However, there was already no way for him to continue his words------Old Waylon quite simply extended his arm, jamming it against Jacob’s throat before, just like that, felling him; throwing a 100 pound youngster outside the pub and onto the gravel.

The pub inside rang out with hidden schadenfreude sn.i.g.g.e.rs.

Rumont then abruptly stood up. Outside the pub, a burst of magic power was currently fiercely changing into a blazing power, accompanied with a magical chant, this was&h.e.l.lip;&h.e.l.lip;

Yet Old Waylon’s reactions were faster beyond Rumont. He rapidly rushed outside the door, within Rumont’s special field of view, Waylon’s red b.l.o.o.d.y light abruptly leapt like a blaze; a savage red coloured scene followed after his figure.

The ground vibrated slightly, a miserable shriek screeched out; afterwards, it was stopped as if the neck was being choked.

Old Waylon’s rugged voice sounded: “a green horn Rank 1 Magician, daring to use a Blazing Palm and rampaging about at our Appleseed. You neither inquired about myself, Old Waylon?”

“This man isn’t simple ey, this Appleseed, in a short while, it’s marked out with different factions.” Blazing Palm? Rank 1 Magician? Rumont bowed his head, while taking a drink with both hands holding onto the wooden mug of liquor, thinking: “as expected, Adventurers needed to survive battles to enjoy the pleasant later years. Only having muscles isn’t enough.”