***
Glint had a quiet lunch of chicken and broiled potatoes in the tavern’s ground floor. It was not often that a boy of seventeen years stayed in a tavern alone, he heard a few men remark. The place was relatively quiet, but still contained the usual yellow light filtering through white pipe smoke that such establishments were usually choked with when people chose to relax.
Glint had thought about how to least draw attention to himself during his stay here, and thus was now equipped with simple leather armour that he’d packed, as well as a sword he had simply pulled out of his double gauntlets. Added to that, the gauntlets themselves were changed to look nice but normal, rimmed bracers a good soldier in a mercenary band would have. The blade slung across his back was rather large, almost the size of a bastard sword, but the extra weight would allow him to swing it at a lower speed easier, which would make it seem as if he was a powerful warrior rather than an Ability user. It was secured by a metal scabbard and a chain, as Glint could only pull metal from his gauntlets.
“Boy, what are you doing here alone?” a voice drifted to him, sweet and melodic. It was an older woman, perhaps in her thirties, wearing a barmaid’s outfit. Her blue skirt flowed as she came closer to him. Simple cotton clothes with neglected top buttons exposed her cleavage as she bowed down directly in front of him to refill his glass.
Glint refrained from taking the bait and instead looked her in the grey eyes. “Did you make the chicken?” he asked of her, ignoring a heavily made up face and fake smile. Living with the Boar, he had seen his fair share of idiots who wasted their money on tipping barmaids, hoping for extra services.
The woman looked confused for a second, but recovered and answered, “No, but I have other skills that make up for it.” She moved her straight blond hair to one side of her head, exposing more of her neck and chest in the process.
“Please tell the cook that the chicken was great,” Glint said with a tone of finality. He then watched the look on her face with smug satisfaction. Instead of answering him her smile turned into a sneer. She turned and strutted away in an exaggerated manner, as if to show him what he’d missed.
A few feet away, some money was exchanged in-between a group of five people. They cheered for Glint and called him over, clapping him on the back and offering him some beer, which he exchanged with fresh apple juice. He was glad to find people to talk to, for the warrior would have felt nervous initiating any conversation.
The youth wasn’t going to let them know he’d overheard them paying the waitress to flirt with him, nor that he knew they’d betted over how much of his money she could swindle him out of.
The Final Life Page 23
