Nightfall in the city of Rowden. This was usually the time that people were retiring from their places of work. The middle-class folks would often lament on their awful time at the city council, consuming their boring gossip like a drug as they headed toward the taverns. The poor scatter to the slums, either to flee from the entitled mage officers who would relentlessly mug them of their hard-earned (well, stolen) goods or fend for their place just to live another day in this hopeless system.

  A rowdy ruckus had erupted. Nothing new. Unsurprisingly, it had attracted some spectators. More gossip brewed amongst the market ladies, who stood at a distance from the scene. Two drunken fellows were accusing each other of sleeping with their wives. The spectators sided with the one who seemed to be in favour of their empathy. The entire scene took place just outside the tavern.

  One of them seemed to be of a more robust build while the other appeared to be a skilled magic user. Opinions differed among the crowd, but most seemed to agree that the bigger man would win. The density of the crowd increased, forming a rough circular wall around the two. Excitement was visible. Stakes could be made. Even people were placing bets on the outcome. Now all they had to do was to wait for a spark.

  “Screw off, you damned womanizer!” the magic user cursed. His blue pupils started to glow brighter. He started to create distance. He was about to cast a spell.

  “Same to you! I hope your wife dies like a dog on this filthy pavement.” The big man took a wobbly step closer to close the distance. His left arm stretched at his back, ready to unsheathe his sword.

  The spectators grew more observant. Where else would you get a situation like this? A magic user and a tank, going at it. Both drunk, to boot. Surely this would be the highlight of the night. The late newcomers try their best to crane their necks to see even a part of this spectacle. The more experienced adventurers were ready to assess this fight.

  In the heat of the moment, a bright blue beam blinded everyone at the scene. Seems like the officers have intervened in the situation. The two ruffians were found lying on the ground, motionless. The surrounding people booed at the vigilante. The entire situation had ended anticlimactically, forcing people to resume their business. No one was even angry at this turn of events.This was the usual episode that made the night.

  Of course, this robotic routine would attract some sighs amongst the ambitious folk. Those who desire a change in the way of life. This group would often engage in dangerous activities like adventuring. Two of these folks are outside the tavern, and they seem to be exchanging sighs.

  “*sigh* dammit. Just when-”

  “-things were getting’ exciting.” his companion completed his sentence.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Waiter, two more gin!” The waiter gave him a fierce glare and walked away.

  “What’s up with her?” His table mate asked.

  “She must be still mad at me from the time I groped her,” he didn’t even try to play guilty, “She’s a prostitute. She should be used to this. It’s not like she can erase how most men now view her.”

  This perverted man was a noble. He spends his days at the brothel just to cure his boredom and at restaurants to try new cuisine. He was a loafer who would rather spend his days enjoying his inherited wealth than actually investing it.

  Of course, this lifestyle was starting to become fruitless. Time spares no one; and Nathaniel Johannes the 5th was no exception to this rule.

  “Anyway, I just want to thank you for this though. But I wonder, why would you take me here?” His table mate was the polar opposite of him. He was a mercenary. He lives his life on high adrenaline; playing a risky game of life and death. The scars on his left cheek indicate that he is no newbie in this field.

  The waiter brought the ordered drinks. “The gin from the lands of Irah. Y’know, the brewers are actually elves. So, there’s a good chance that this drink is at least two centuries old.”

  “Actin like a connoisseur… How sure are you that this isn’t locally brewed?” a challenge from his comrade had been issued.

  “Try it. It should be a bit bitter. Elven brews generally are sweet. I don’t know how, but they manage to balance between sweet and bitter.”

  The gin looked mostly colorless. The bottom of the glass seemed dirty. Whether the beverage was locally brewed or not, it was clear that there was clearly not much to uncover.

  “Anyone could replicate this.” The adventurer closely inspected, trying to discover even a minute difference.

  “Maybe. But it wouldn’t kill to try it.”

  He took a sip. Then…

  “Nothing' different,” He even took another sip to confirm, “Yup, still the same.” It was a disappointing conclusion.

  The adventurer was getting tired from this empty exchange.

  “Well, I'll be going now. There’s a lot to do tomorrow.” he dragged the seat behind him, ready to leave.

  “Anzou, I must ask; are you finishing up?” Nathan asked. His careless tone shifted into a more serious one.

  “Our guild has some few setbacks.” Anzou replied “It's nothing significant. But this will take longer than a week.”

  “I was going to shove this in the back of my mind,” Anzou added while looking at him dead in the eyes, “but here it goes; why hire me to do this? I mean, this isn’t even your field; but the guild of this man is mainly of B-class adventurers and above. I hope you understand that it's not easy to sabotage them.”

  “If I say that this is a personal matter?”

  “I'll leave it at that. Still though, I personally think this is really petty.”

  Anzou left the tavern without even looking back at his employer.

  Though for the noble, he simply called the waiter he had molested earlier.

  “HUUHH!” She shrieked back. She looked at him in fearful eyes. She was ready to fight back.

  “Take this,” he gave her a pouch, “Think of it as an apology for my misconduct.”

  No sooner had she received the generous package than her body was suddenly pulled down by its weight. She didn't expect this sum of money as compensation. Why, she could buy herself a better life with this amount!

  The surrounding people looked at this scene with bewilderment. Need one even state that this would mean an invitation to some bandits?

  People had concluded that this man was eccentric. Perhaps his immense wealth and freedom of spending was the root cause of this behavior.

  The noble left the bar. Possibly to visit a brothel to conclude the night. The night was still young, after all.