Red Raven Tavern (Part Two)

Brunan Garilando showed none of the awareness one might expect of the Red Raven Tavern's owner. Ignoring the endless complaints of Louise, his head waitress, he crouched with several sheets of parchment in hand and rummaged through the parcels, satchels, rolls of hides, and wicker trunk Lorist had piled on the floor, muttering to himself:

"Two Black Scale Rhinoceros hides. These are for Tom at the armor shop..."

"Five Red-eyed Black Fox pelts. Old Burke at the leather shop ordered these..."

"Three black gold python skins. Johnson at the weapons shop wants them for scabbards..."

"A bundle of Spotted Wildebeest sinews. Chris wants these for bowstrings..."

"What's this?" Garilando held up a grayish-white bone a meter long.

"An arm bone from the legendary Sharp-beaked Owl Dragon. The Lemando natives of the Ruins Archipelago made it into a bone club. It's light and extremely hard. Sir Malev wants it for his collection." Lorist put down his roast goose to answer.

The Sharp-beaked Owl Dragon was said to be a large flying creature artificially created by magicians several thousand years ago using night owls and dragon blood. Fierce and aggressive, it had long since become extinct. A complete skeleton had been discovered a century ago in the Ruins Archipelago, once a realm of magicians, and scholars had named it for its enormous, sharp-toothed beak.

Sir Malev was one of the Red Raven Tavern's more distinguished regulars. Apparently a nobleman from some duchy, he had grown tired of political struggles and moved to Molent City, buying a house in a neighborhood near the tavern to live in seclusion. He liked collecting strange and unusual things.

"Oh." If Sir Malev wanted it, that explained everything. Garilando put down the grayish-white bone and picked up a leather case holding seven glass vials shaped like test tubes. Each contained a liquid of a different color. "And what's this?"

"Blood from seven kinds of magical beasts in the Ruins Archipelago. Professor Simpson at White Rose Academy asked for it. He said he'd obtained an ancient book and wanted me to bring him these seven kinds of blood so he could try reproducing a magic potion recipe from it," Lorist explained.

Only then did Garilando notice the little labels attached to the bottoms of the glass vials, each bearing the name of a magical beast. "Black gold python, Blue-backed Demon Wolf, Black Scale Rhinoceros..."

"That old fellow Simpson must have more gold than he knows what to do with. Reproduce a magic potion? How did he even come up with that? There aren't any magicians or magical power left these days. How's he supposed to make a magic potion?" Old Tom shook his head dismissively.

"And what's this?" Garilando shook a thick bamboo tube about a meter long. It was sealed and seemed to contain liquid, which sloshed noisily as he shook it.

"Uh..." Lorist looked a little embarrassed. After a moment's hesitation, he answered, "That's a Terence Donkey Whip El privately asked me to bring back for him..."

Terence Donkey Whip, a specialty of the Ruins Archipelago, was a renowned, top-quality aphrodisiac, much loved by nobles and ******** men.

"Pfft..." Hearing that El had privately asked Lorist to bring back a Terence Donkey Whip, Louise covered her mouth and dissolved into laughter.

Garilando's face turned livid. "Outrageous! That little bastard's so young, and he already needs an aphrodisiac? His cultivation never improves, and all he does is climb on top of women, yet he hasn't produced so much as an egg! He needs a proper lesson! I'm keeping this. If El asks, tell him to come see me."

El's full name was Brunan Evenbert. A Silver Two-star swordsman and the crime boss of the three surrounding neighborhoods, he was also Garilando's nephew and his only surviving relative.

The table was a mess of cups and plates. Lorist raised his wine cup toward Fatty Mai, the cook, drained the remaining fruit wine, and let out a long breath followed by a satisfied belch. "Louise, see whether Old Luke out back has any customers. If not, ask him to come cut my hair and give me a shave. Get me a room upstairs, too, and some hot water. I want a good sleep after my bath. Also, sorry for the trouble, but please take the clothes in my wicker trunk and the ones I'm wearing to the laundry later, then buy me a suitable new outfit at Misha's clothing shop. Put it all on my tab for now."

Old Luke arrived quickly. His little barbershop at the Red Raven Tavern's back entrance had few customers at this hour, and as soon as he heard Lorist wanted him, he gathered his tools and came over. First he draped Lorist in a black linen cape, then set a gleaming silver plate on the table Louise had cleared to serve as a mirror. Raising a small pair of barber's scissors and a walrus-ivory comb, he asked, "The usual haircut?"

On the Galintea Continent, apart from nobles in certain countries who wore prescribed hairstyles to display their exalted status, most people wore their hair however they pleased. Occasionally, though, so-called fashionable styles such as waves, perms, and ponytails became popular. Lorist thought that, aside from the more primitive tools, hairdressing here was no different from his previous life.

Lorist had always liked his hair cropped short in a crew cut. In part, it was a habit left over from seven years in the military in his previous life, but it was also easy to maintain and quick to wash.

"Yes, the same as usual." Lorist sat a little straighter.

Old Luke clicked his tongue. "Really, Little Locke, you ought to grow that black hair long. Look at it—such a pure black. It's beautiful. Grow it out and tie it in a ponytail, and you'd have plenty of girls falling for you."

"Forget it. Long hair needs washing every day. Too much trouble. Anyway, Old Luke, what's happened around here over the past six months?"

Old Luke liked chatting as he cut hair. Whether the neighborhood news was important or trivial, he always knew something about it.

He trimmed Lorist's hair with a thoughtful look. "Nothing much, really. Two months ago, a runaway horse crashed into Linde's fruit stall on the corner, but he got four Gold Fude in compensation and made himself a tidy little profit. Last month, Watt the butcher caught his slut of a wife ** with another mercenary. Watt cut that Black Iron rank mercenary in the shoulder. Hilarious—Watt hasn't even awakened his battle qi!"

"As for major news, the paper said three months ago that the fighting in the north had ended. After two years of tireless effort by the Commercial Alliance, all the warring parties finally reached a peace agreement. The paper said the northern trade routes were glittering with gold. For the past two months or so, it's been full of notices recruiting mercenary guards or seeking investors for merchant guilds heading north, though there have also been plenty of reports about those guilds being robbed by bandits."

"Oh, the Krissen Empire up north has stopped fighting?" Lorist had never expected such a momentous historical event to take place on the Galintea Continent during his six months in the Ruins Archipelago. As for the newspaper's claim that peace had been achieved through the Commercial Alliance's efforts, no one took that seriously. The powerful northern empire had always been the Forde Commercial Alliance's mortal enemy, and the two sides had fought three famous major battles over more than a hundred and sixty years. When the old emperor died six years ago and his three sons went to war over the throne, no one had been happier than the Commercial Alliance. It would have been generous of them merely not to add fuel to the fire. Why would they ever be kind enough to end the fighting?

"Tell me, what were the terms of the peace agreement?" Lorist was very curious about the conditions the Commercial Alliance had imposed. The empire's three princes and more than a dozen Grand Dukes had fought one another for almost six years, tearing a vast, immensely powerful empire to pieces and leaving its people destitute and its armies exhausted. Even the great nobles were living on borrowed money. Nobody would believe the Commercial Alliance hadn't been pulling strings behind the scenes.

"Ah, I didn't really pay attention to the details. You know I'm only a barber. I've never cared much about affairs of state..." Old Luke looked a little embarrassed.

"I know about that." Old Tom sounded delighted. As a retired postal official, discussing national affairs had always been a favorite pastime. "There were three main terms. First, the empire was divided into three kingdoms and seven grand duchies. In other words, the Krissen Empire that used to loom over the Commercial Alliance is gone, and there won't be any more invasions from the north. Second, the trade routes must remain open. Whether in a kingdom or a duchy, the trade tax is one in ten. All merchant guilds under the Commercial Alliance can also freely open shops and conduct business in the various lords' territories. Third, the Commercial Alliance will provide loans of varying amounts to the three kingdoms and seven duchies. I think the interest rates range from seven to thirteen percent."

"Locke, my boy, I seem to remember you're from the north. The carriage that took you to the academy back then had a coat of arms on it. You must be a noble of some sort, right? Now that the fighting's stopped and the trade routes are open, don't you want to go home for a visit?" Sitting opposite him, Fatty Mai seemed to recall his first meeting with Lorist outside the academy ten years earlier. Hearing everyone talk about the north prompted him to ask.

"Little Locke, you're from the Krissen Empire? And a noble?" Old Luke made quite a fuss over it.

While the old emperor was alive, he had regularly ordered his border troops to invade the Malichu Plains, where the Commercial Alliance lay. The imperial nobles who took advantage of the fighting to loot had inflicted particularly severe harm on the alliance's people with their private troops. As residents of Molent City, the Commercial Alliance's capital, they might not demand blood the moment they saw someone from the Krissen Empire, but they certainly had no affection for its nobles.

"To be precise, I'm from the Krissen Empire's Northlands—the northern highlands. They're several thousand li from here. Northlanders never came to the Malichu Plains to fight the Commercial Alliance. It's too far away. The march alone would take two or three months. My father's a baron, and his territory is in the far north. I'm the second son, with an older brother and a younger one. I'm not in line to inherit the title or the territory. Being sent to study in Molent City meant my family had given up on me. Although the north has been at war for six years, I lost contact with my family seven years ago. That means I have to fend for myself. So now I'm a citizen of Molent City. I have nothing more to do with the Northlands or my family," Lorist explained.

"Yes. To prevent their children from fighting over their titles and territories, many nobles concentrate on training their heirs while sending their other children away, granting them separate fiefs, or arranging political marriages. Cases like Little Locke's are very common. After all, his family's title is only a barony." Old Tom nodded in agreement.

Old Luke worked quickly. After finishing the haircut, he took out a sharp blade and cleanly shaved the fine hair from Lorist's face and the stubble from his chin, then applied a little grease to protect his skin.

Lorist rubbed his smooth chin, thoroughly satisfied, and generously gave Old Luke a small silver coin. He also told Fatty Mai to serve Old Luke and Old Tom a mug of Blackberry Mead each and put it on his tab. Picking up the two swords of different lengths from the table, he followed Louise upstairs.

The Red Raven Tavern's second floor had eight guest rooms, four on either side. At the end of the corridor stood the stairs to the third floor.

They had barely reached the second floor when they heard hoarse sounds of a man and woman having sex coming from one of the rooms on the left.

Lorist asked curiously, "Who's that? Still at it at this hour?"

Louise answered without turning around. "Jumili. She took on the Black Bear Brothers at noon for seven large silver coins. They've been going at it for over three hours. Who knows whether she'll even be able to get up tonight."

Jumili was another waitress at the tavern. Lorist knew the Black Bear Brothers as well. All three were low-ranking mercenaries who practiced Military Battle Qi. The eldest was a Black Iron Two-Star, while the other two were still Bronze rank. They usually took short-distance escort jobs and ran errands. All three were tall, burly, dark-skinned men, earning them the nickname "Black Bear Brothers." Over time, the nickname had become their official name.

Louise took Lorist to the first room on the right at the end of the corridor. A large bathtub had already been set out and filled with hot water.

Lorist put down his two swords, pulled the two daggers from his boots, and removed the sleeve-arrow launcher from his left arm. Then he eagerly stripped naked and climbed into the tub.

Louise handed him a bar of pink, flower-scented soap and placed a white linen towel beside the tub. She gathered up his clothes from the floor, sorted out his money pouch, sword belt, waist pouch, and belt, and laid them on the table. Just as she was about to leave, she remembered something and returned to the tub. "Little Locke, are you free three nights from now?"

"I don't know. Why? Is something up?" Lorist lifted his face from the water and let out a long breath.

"Yes. A girl from my village is coming to work here as a waitress in three days. She wants a good price for her first time—two gold coins. Little Locke, you earned quite a bit on this trip. Could you do me a favor?"

"Huh? Doesn't the tavern already have you, Jumili, Sarah, and Nina? Why hire someone new?"

"Nina went home to get married last month. She won't be coming back. This girl from my village plans to work here for two or three years, too, save up some money, then go home and marry. I promised to find her a handsome, generous young man for her first time. Little Locke, will you help me out?"

Thoroughly embarrassed, Lorist gave a vague answer. "Let's talk about it later..."

Then he sank back under the water.