One Drink too Many
--
It was another cold night in northern Isbrygga, the chilled air bringing more snow on its currents as the winter set in. Torvald didn't much care for the northern winters - as most didn't - and decided to shelter in the town of Vitvarg rather than braving the frosty weather another night.
Vitvarg offered the prospect of a warm bed and warm food for the man, a veteran mercenary-turned-adventurer. Not only that, its lively inn also offered him a good chance of sharing that bed with a warm northerner woman as well.
Torvald scanned the wooded hall of the inn. The room had a large firepit in its center which illuminated the interior with the pleasant glow of warmth. The occupants of the inn were shouting, playing games, and not least drinking merrily as they made the best of the cold night in this inhospitable place. A bard occasionally offer a song to the inn, playing with the strange string and percussion instruments of the barbarians.
Torvald was especially pleased at the sights of the local womenfolk. Blonde-haired all, they dressed in clothing that the adventurer would expect to find in much warmer climes; short dresses of tan or brown linens and covering their shoulders with the furs of some dead animal. The serving wenches were mostly slave-folk - easily identifiable by their leather collars - and wore more well-used dresses as they scurried between the benches and tables of the inn. Torvald noted that many of the men of the inn would grope or slap the servers as they passed, proof of a slave's position in the world. Torvald grinned at the sight. He could see himself owning a wench or ten himself.
However, he was an Imperial. And his former mercenary captain had assured that Torvald would never own a slave in his life, unless he wanted to live here in this inhospitable land or travel to the far west where the dark-skinned people lived.
The man took a swig of his drink as he undressed a free woman standing near the bar with his eyes. No man around her, no one to challenge his rule over that particular conquest. She had the thick thighs that most northern women had, and a shapely ass that caused her dress to ride up to the middle of her thighs.
Torvald reminded himself of the few northerner words that he knew, and devised a plan to get her in his bed for the night. He took another gulp of ale just as the door of the inn opened, the howling frozen wind of the outdoors making its presence known for a moment, before an interesting pair of adventurers entered the hall.
Torvald had, of course, inspected the woman first. A tanned, thin girl, with a pretty face and the curves of an angel. Torvald decided to shift his conquest towards the inn's new occupant before inspecting the man at the woman's side.
Well speak of the devil,
he thought.
Torvald inspected the man, and instantly recognized him as his old mercenary captain. He observed the pair approach the bar, the woman falling in line just behind the intimidating man that Talos had become. His eyes shone with an undeniable confidence, and the sword at his belt looked positively terrifying. And expensive, Torvald mused.
Talos had been just a young lad with nineteen years of age when he disbanded the Blood Moons after three long years of marching through the Empire, taking the money of the rich to slay the poor. But now...
S
o much for that particular conquest,
Torvald admitted to himself of the beautiful woman beside Talos. He watched as the pair exchanged currency and an attempt at small talk with the bartender before returning to the firepit with a mug of ale each.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" Torvald asked the air between himself and Talos, grinning as he looked at his old mercenary captain.
"Torvald," the man replied, returning the grin. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
Talos was, of course, talking about the many scars Torvald had accumulated over his hard years of adventuring.
"Fell into a rose bush jumpin' from your mother's window last night," Torvald replied indignantly. He saw Talos fighting against laughter as the man strode towards him, arms extended. Torvald rose from his table to return the greeting.
"Good to see ya again, cap'n," he said first, giving Talos a short but hard squeeze before returning to his seat. Torvald couldn't help but take another quick glance at the slender woman accompanying his old friend.
"To you as well Torvald. I'd like you to meet my close companion, Cass," the man smirked, gesturing towards her. "Cass, Torvald. He and I worked together for several years under the same banner."
"What he means to say is he bossed me and three thousand more around for two-er-three years while we killed people for him, sweet miss. How do ya do?"
"I do, uh-I'm doing well, Torvald. It is nice to meet you," the angel answered sweetly, lying through her teeth as she spoke.
"Drink with me, Talos. It's been too long."
His old captain accepted, Talos and his beautiful companion sitting at Torvald's table when they couldn't find enough reasons to say no.
-
The night was still young, and the trio had drank and laughed for two hours now as they each worked effortlessly to drink another.
"It ain't that I ain't tryin', Talos. It's the women these days. They don't care about havin' a strong man around a'ymore. They'd sooner cheat on me with some haughty lad like that bard o'er there than I could take a piss!" Torvald complained to the man opposite him while getting the attention of a wench for more drink with a raised finger. Talos' companion looked at him with reddened cheeks and a polite smile as Torvald wallowed in his own, undeserved, pity.
