“Whatever you do, don’t drink the Devil Brine.”
I grin as I deliver the warning to Alana, getting the expected glare. It’s been half a year since I’ve come to the Grand Hall. Spring has passed and summer lingers halfway through our initiate year. A benchmark I think is worth celebrating. With some effort, I convinced my best friend to join me in my merrymaking and dragged her down to Howie’s bar in the Myriad Zone.
The place is empty, as usual. The stranger dressed in a dark cloak sits in their place at the end of the bar and Louise, the unfriendly security who doubles as a barmaid, wanders about wiping tables for appearances’ sake. Plenty of space for my small group consisting of myself, Alana, Geneva in her meek public persona, and my lovely Bell.
No elf, sadly. As the Grand Hall becomes more accustomed to her presence, the more demands on her time flood in.
Probably for the best. Alana is still uncomfortable around my wife, a mix of moving carefully around one of her instructors and a whole lot of not knowing what to make of Kierra, I think. Especially in informal settings. We’re good friends but she can’t bring herself to treat Kierra as a peer.
As usual, she wears her light armor, quite tarnished after the abuse it’s suffered after several months, and her blade at her hip. Not the attire I’d pick for tavern hopping but really, I can’t imagine her in anything else.
I mean, I can, but she’d probably try to remove my head if she knew about those thoughts.
“Hmph. You are trying to goad me into drinking some abomination, no doubt. It won’t work.” Alana raises her chin. “I agreed to this outing but a knight must retain their faculties in all situations.”
Aw. What’s the point if I don’t get to see the normally unflappable knight-to-be blackout drunk?
“Yeah, Lou, you devil,” Howie says, polishing a mug behind the bar. The half-elf, half-goblinoid wears a sly smile. We had a rocky start but now, I can confidently say I’m his most valued customer. Most likely because I’m one of the few beings that won’t die drinking his stronger brews and but I like to think we bonded over our appreciation of good drink.
“Don’t go making more work for Louise. We both know one sip of anything off the shelves will have the girl puking her guts out and praying to the saints.”
“Of course, I know. My warning was sincere. I wouldn’t want her to embarrass herself. You have to start the newbies out on something soft.”
“I’ve got a barrel of ale sourced from a local brewery. I wouldn’t call the watered-down piss a real drink but it’s easy on the senses. Maybe at some point, we can get some shroom juice down her.”
I snickered at the name we’d given the diluted Herbanacle concoction Maxine’s family served in their hotels.
Alana is not amused by our banter. “I won’t rise to such obvious provocations.”
“What provocations? I wouldn’t let you drink it even if you wanted to. Here, Bell~” I lift the imp from my lap and place her on the counter. “You can drink with me while the hero keeps her wits about her.”
“Coo!”
I stifle another laugh as I see Alana’s brows furrow with the frustration of having the small Bell be considered more capable than her, even in something like drinking. My friend, you have many virtues but pride is your indulgent character flaw. Now, she is weak. Finish her off, Howie.
Someone would think my partner in manipulation can read my mind as he sets down several cups with perfect timing. The standard clay mugs for Geneva, Bell, and myself. Alana gets a special cup.
The base of it is thinner, slowly widening towards the top. It can maybe hold a fifth of what our mugs can. That alone is bad enough but to add insult to injury, adorably small animals are painted in happy scenes with garishly bright colors. Saints, why does he even have this atrocious thing?
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Howie tops us off with a round of Herbanacle before pouring a tiny portion into Alana’s cup. He mixes in a generous amount of water before pushing it toward her with a grin. “There you go…kid.”
She stares for a long moment. Then she lets out a deep sigh and pushes the cup away. “Get me the same as them,” she says bitterly.
Howie smiles triumphantly. “Coming right up.”
“As for you.” She turns to me. Ah, you’re going to embarrass me with such an intense gaze. “Since you went through so much trouble initiating this contest, there better be proper stakes.”
I snort in amusement. “Stakes? Big words coming from the girl trying to reason her way into ordering water at a bar. Just because I’m your friend, I’ll give you the chance to back out with your dignity intact.”
Her drink arrives and Alana raises her mug confidently. “I grew up around knights. I know my way around liquor.”
“Please. I’m married to an elf.” I copy her pose.
“When you retire first, then I will have you learn swordsmanship.”
Ugh. That has been a common topic lately. I’m stronger than the average initiate, both those aiming to be casters or knights. Alana thinks I’m destined to be a melee fighter and I’m wasting my potential. Of course, that’s because she has no clue about my real potential.
“And when you pass out, you get to ask my wife for extra training.”
Ha! Two can play this game.
“…you’re evil.”
“We can call this off and enjoy a simple night out.” As if. I only offer because I know she’ll reject me. This route is far more amusing.
“No. We will settle this. For the kingdom and the saints. Salute!” she proclaims before tilting her mug to her lips. I watch with wide eyes as she guzzles her drink, throat moving with her loud gulps.
She doesn’t stop till it’s empty, slamming the mug down while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face is flushed pink and I can’t help thinking how cute she is as her features pinch from the burn.
“I may have underestimated you,” I admit.
“No backing out.”
“Wouldn’t dare.” I raise my mug to my lips and the drinking contest begins.