“One pint of your best stuff, please.” Oathbreaker said, slurring her words as she walked into the Oaken bar. “You sound three sheets to the wind already, so know that there is no confusion that we don’t serve the already drunk.” The barkeeper replied. “Lishen herre, you can have thise if you allow me a drink, and extra for what I’m about to do to you.” Oathbreaker said, leaning over the counter with a bagful of platinum fox coins. The barkeeper’s eyes widened in fear, but they couldn’t do anything about their predicament. Oathbreaker wrapped herself around them, quickly dispatching them by smacking their head on the counter. “Man, what a hassle it is to get decent alcohol anymore.” She said, dropping the coin pouch on the barkeeper and taking a bottle of spirit from the shelf behind the counter. “Hey, we’re here on a mission, remember?!” Ron whispered hoarsely. “Pfft, no harm has been done with a bit of alcohol, besides, the amount of guards required to contain a dryad is likely a lot.” Oathbreaker replied. “Why do I even bother?” Ron pined. “Because you care for the mission. Come, there is lots of work ahead.” Oathbreaker replied.
YOU ARE READING
Fearless
General FictionThe dangers of a world bound in cruel religious doctrine become lessons in bravery.
