31 Brictevas Tavern (1/2)

One Week Later

In a rundown tavern in the southern region of Dratol, Wallace slouched on a creaking wooden chair, with a small parchment place over his head. The table in front of him had several empty bottles which still reeked of alcohol. He seated close to the window, and he could see the crescent moon hanging in the lonely night sky. The joyous atmosphere in the tavern contrasted with his more somber demeanor.

\”Oi! Wallace! Why do you look so down? Aren't my drinks good for ya?\”

Wallace blandly tilted his head to the side, staring at Bricteva, the middle-aged tavern keeper.

\”Bricteva, I can't even drown my sorrows in sweet old rum any more. Please leave me alone,\” Wallace said as he placed his head on the worn table.

\”There is something wrong with your attitude, laddie. If it weren't for me, you'd still be roaming the streets searching for who knows what. Am ya savior, laddie. Is this how you treat me?\” Bricteva said.

However, the roar of drunken men and the teasing shrieks of groped whores were all that greeted her words.

\”You're lucky you resemble my son. If not, I would have kicked out a fatty like you a long time ago,\” Bricteva added. With Wallace flat out ignoring her, she grumbled while carrying a large basin filled with clothes towards the back room of the tavern.

\”Yeah, sure. My twenty silver surely had nothing to do with it,\” Wallace muttered as he fiddled with the ring of a bottle.

'Why did I have to be such an idiot? I could have taken the money and fled. There is no way Adam would have tracked me down. Now, I neither have the gold nor do I know the whereabouts of the person he wants me to find. Why do I have to be so unlucky? If I ever find those thieves, I will make sure they regret the day they were born,' Wallace thought.

Initially, Wallace concluded he wouldn't search for Erik Gilmore. Instead, he would rather flee Dratol with the gold Adam gave him. He considered Adam a walking disaster especially after everything he had experienced from Wazar Region to Dratol. He wanted nothing to do with Adam and saw the gold as an unexpected payday.

A few days ago, before he fled, he witnessed a strange phenomenon over Varidan skies. While watching the unexplainable scene, a group of pickpockets who had been trailing him accosted the sack containing the golden coins, before disappearing into the busy streets. If not that Wallace had removed five pieces earlier, he would have ended up a beggar on Dratol's unforgiving streets.

'If only I had paid more attention to my surroundings, I wouldn't be in this mess right now. I would have been in the sunny countryside of Vohmir.'

Still wallowing in his predicament, Wallace felt a thud on his table. Raising his head, the scanty and dirty teeth of a middle-aged man greeted his sights. He wore a washed tunic begrimed with unspeakable and an uncountable number of filth. He donned an amiable smile as he stared at Wallace. His upper half leaned on the frame of the opened window, with his hands resting on a blackened bottle.

\”Wallace, guess what I found in the trash? I found—\”

\”Igor, are you mad? Are you trying to kill me?\” Wallace said as he clenched his nose. Igor was a hobo who lived around Bricteva's tavern and had garnered a reputation due to his friendly disposition.

\”What are you talking about? Why would I want to kill you? Have you been drinking again?\” Igor asked as he caressed the blackened bottle on the table.

He was oblivious to the smell being emitted from his tunic and unwashed skin. Wallace, however, couldn't speak. Because, Igor's breath had forcefully assaulted his nose. Despite drinking several bottles of alcohol, Wallace believed Igor's bad breath, coupled with the nauseating smell of his tunic would finally accomplish the task of knocking him out.

Ignoring Wallace's plight, Igor continued, \”Wallace, check out this beauty. Can you believe someone threw this baby away? C'mon buddy, let's drink away our sorrows,\” Igor said.

'I don't want any of that. Get the fuck away from me damn it!' Wallace thought, unable to air his thoughts.

With a flick of his wrist, Igor uncorked the bottle. A thick aroma assaulted his nose, while Wallace slammed his head on the table passing out from the smell from Igor's armpits.

\”Huh? What's wrong with him today? Well, I guess I don't have to share with him.\”

Taking large gulps, Igor carried his body from the other side of the window into the interior of the tavern. Reclining comfortably on the wooden chair adjacent Wallace's, he enjoyed the unnamed bottle.

While he enjoyed himself—slowly, the faces of the tavern goers distorted. With each of them struggling to cover their noses, they cast their gaze on Igor who nonchalantly downed his drink. Igor, on the other hand, waved to those he recognized. He was oblivious to their sufferings. In droves, they scampered out of the tavern. They were unwilling to be like Wallace—first casualty of Igor's attack.

\”Huh? What the hell is going on… what the hell is that smell?\”

Bricteva had returned to the tavern after hearing the hurried footsteps of her fleeing customers. Standing only a few meters away from where Igor sat, her brows creased. The single nose hair she had danced from the hot air being blown. It was akin to a palm tree being assaulted by wind. Saying nothing, she grabbed a mop stick and slowly inched towards Igor who backed her.

\”Hey, Wallace. I will finish the drink if you keep on sleeping. Are you sure you don't want some?\” Igor asked as he poked Wallace's face.

Despite only opening the bottle less than a minute ago, he had drank more than half its contents. And, his brown eyes didn't have a shade of cloud in them.

\”Hey, Wallace. I will really finish the—\”

\”Don't touch me with your filthy hands, Igor! You smell damn it! Can't you smell—?\”

Before Wallace could finish his statement, he saw Igor duck his head. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a mop stick smacked the side of his head. Sending him spiraling to the dusty floor of the tavern.

\”Igor! How many times have I told you to never step foot into the tavern? Look at what you made me do? I'm gonna skin you alive,\” Bricteva said.

However, just as she finished her statement, Igor threw himself through the opened window. Naturally, he did not forget to take his drink along with him. Under the silver moonlight, all Bricteva could see was Igor racing down the street while clenching his sagging pants. She didn't bother to give chase, instead; she focused on Wallace who frothed on the floor.

\”Laddie, I didn't hit you that hard. Stop exaggerating. Are you doing this because your rent is almost up again?\” Bricteva said as she assisted Wallace back to his seat.

\”I demand compensation. I could have lost an eye, or worse still, you could have killed me. Don't you know how fragile my body is? I haven't even take into account the psychological—\”

\”That's enough, laddie. You can stay here for another week,\” Bricteva interjected.

\”With free meals and drinks included?\” Wallace said while he rubbed the side of his head.

\”Don't push it, laddie. If you want those, too, I will really break your head or pluck out your eye. So, what do ya say?\” Bricteva said, donning a sly smile.

\”Please take care of me for the next week.\” Wallace coughed dryly as he slowly scratched the back of his head.

Saying nothing further, Bricteva hurried to counter, before lighting several incense candles. Within seconds, its flowery essence filled the tavern's interior. Less than five minutes later, the tavern goers who had fled earlier returned in their droves. From their coordinated exit and entry, it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. Within thirty minutes, the joyous mood within the tavern had returned.

'What am I going to do with my life now? I can't continue to stay in Dratol unless I can find Erik Gilmore. But, is that even possible? Nobody seems to know anything about him. If I stay here, there is the possibility I would run into Adam. I want nothing to do with that guy. Should I return to Wazar Region? No. I can't return to that dump. Or, should I go to a place no one will find me?' Wallace thought.

With a bottle of rum before him, he slowly buried his sorrow in its embrace.

\”Hey, Wallace. Leave a little for me, okay?\”

Before Wallace could respond to the whisper, a thick smell assaulted his nose. No one needed to tell him the identity of the person who whispered.

\”What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you—?\”

\”Keep your voice down, Wallace. Do you want Bricteva to know I came back?\” Igor said.

He peeped through the window, observing his immediate surroundings like a sneaky rat about to steal some food.

'Why do you think I was shouting? Of course I want Bricteva to chase you away again. I will use all my power to shout,' Wallace mused.

\”Get the hell away from—\”

\”If you chase me away, I won't tell you what I heard about Erik Gilmore,\” Igor interjected.

At that moment, however, the entire tavern goers had their gaze on Wallace. They all wondered why he shouted earlier, stopping mid-sentence. Since Igor had hidden himself, none of them knew he was responsible for Wallace's outburst.

'How the hell does this bastard know about Erik Gilmore? We have discussed nothing about it.'

Just as this thought filled Wallace's mind, Igor's whisper reached him again, \”Leave half of the rum for me, or I won't tell you what I know. You talk a lot in your sleep you know? Well, what do you say?\”

\”Oi, Wallace. Why did you shout earlier? Is something bordering you?\” Bricteva asked. Just like her, the others also wanted to know what happened to him.

Saying nothing, Wallace rose to his feet while holding his drink. Downing four mouthful in quick succession, he threw the bottle out the window, \”I feel fucking fantastic! You ugly mugs are lucky to have someone as dazzling as me in your presence. I'm fucking Wallace Golding!\” Wallace said as he puffed his chest and flexed his muscles.

Silence greeted his words, however, it only lasted for a moment. A split second later, euphoric laughter reverberated within the tavern.

\”He is fucking wasted!\”

\”Hahaha... Wallace! Wallace! Wallace!\”

\”Wallace, honey. Do you need me to make you feel more powerful tonight? I'll give you a special deal, hon.\”

While the tavern goers cheered him on, Wallace made his way towards the exit in exaggerated steps.

A few minutes later, Wallace stood at a secluded spot at the back of the tavern. His nose flared up as he stared at Igor who lay on the floor while whispering sweet nothing to the now empty bottle he threw out earlier.

'Am I insane for believing this bastard? If he knows nothing, I will teach him a good lesson today.'