The next morning, after finding Regan and his three brothers in the bathhouse, Roy obtained a barrel of Mahakam Firewater from the chamberlain Sanchez.
He was unfamiliar with Carbon Mountain, so he could use the free liquor to build rapport with the locals and pry out some information.
Regan Dalberg had not flown into a rage after Roy took his beloved crossbow. He had a remarkably good temper and was worth cultivating.
The group arrived at Regan's cave dwelling.
The home of this Carbon Mountain archery champion was exceedingly bare. Apart from a bed, table, chairs, and kerosene lamp, there was not even an iron pot in sight. It was obvious he never lit a fire or cooked for himself.
Roy came to a realization. No matter the world, men without girlfriends were mostly this sloppy and dispirited.
The dwarf roughly wiped the square table with his sleeve, clearing away the thick dust, then set out more than a dozen cylindrical wooden cups, each the length of a forearm and holding two ounces, which he had prepared beforehand. He filled every last one with liquor.
As the fragrance of alcohol spread through the room, the four dwarf brothers twitched their noses, their eyes turning intoxicated. They were not much better than Faywen's drunkard father.
Roy had never understood what magic the stuff in those cups possessed that could make everyone lose their minds over it.
"Little brother, you and I will compete this round." The corners of Regan Dalberg's mouth and eyes involuntarily curled upward. Staring at the fine liquor, he could not stop smiling. "No tricks when it comes to drinking... The rules are simple and brutal. We start drinking at the same time. Before either of us passes out, whoever drinks more wins."
"B-Boss, you competed yesterday... You