Tavern Brawl

Lightning deep in the clouds tore through the storm-tossed night, while a curtain of rain spilling from the eaves separated the tavern from the world outside.

The tavern was nearly empty—only one drunken customer sat at a corner table crowded with cups and a plate of salted peas.

Mr. Faster fastened the buttons on his chest that he never bothered with and picked up his umbrella.

"I'm going out for a while. The tavern's yours tonight."

"Should we close if there are no customers?" Evelyn asked.

Faster paused, then took an oil lamp and walked to the door. "No. Wait until I get back."

The door closed. The three youngsters watched his hazy but resolute figure pass the window and vanish into the rain.

Annan had just returned to the counter when the door was thrown open. Seven or eight uninvited men with clubs burst into the tavern, bringing the howling wind and rain with them.

What timing.

Annan eyed the thugs who had barged in the moment Mr. Faster left.

"Where's that bastard?"

"Mr. Faster's gone out. He won't be back for a while," Evelyn replied smoothly, as though she had seen this sort of thing before. "You can wait for him."

"If he's not here, we'll smash up his tavern!"

Bang!

The leader, whose scar ran from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his mouth, slammed his club against the counter. The noise made Evelyn flinch, her eyes filling with tears.

Evelyn was only fifteen or sixteen, and the sight had frightened her badly. Soluman Copperbeard wasn't in the tavern. Martin had shrunk back like a quail at how vicious the men looked. As for the customer in the corner, he seemed to think it was a drunken hallucination.

Annan, who aspired to be a mage, had no choice but to step forward like a warrior. "Mr. Faster is an elite warrior who helps people in need and hates injustice. If you're in trouble, he'll help once he knows. But if you damage his property, you may find the town and an elite warrior coming after you."

Behind his back, Annan pointed toward the door, signaling that they should make a run for it when they had the chance. Did they stand any hope of beating a gang of thugs?

I can only hope Martin understood.

"Smash it!"

The scarred man's sudden roar was Annan's answer.

The thugs scattered like hyenas and began wrecking the tavern.

"He only left a moment ago! He went that way! You can still catch him!"

Annan's shout was drowned out by the destruction and the scarred man's orders: "Trash this place! Take those three back with us!"

The customer in the corner stared, dumbfounded.

"Damn it, I've had too much again..."

He couldn't help taking a long swig of wine, then cheered at the top of his lungs. "Smash it good! The wine here's expensive and tastes awful! Put your backs into it!"

A thug charged at Martin. Martin took a few blows, but the fight soon turned into a brawl, and before long he somehow gained the upper hand.

"Boss! Help!" cried the thug, who was getting pummeled so hard he could barely breathe.

"Useless!"

The scarred man strode toward Martin. Annan grabbed a Wooden Chair to stop him, but another thug seized him from behind and clamped a rough hand over his mouth.

Annan opened his mouth and bit down hard, but rainwater on the thug's hand made his teeth slip off the filthy skin. The thug screamed and shoved him away. Annan used the push to lunge forward, snatched up the Wooden Chair, and smashed it against the scarred man's back—

Crack!

Just like a chair in a movie, it shattered as easily as porcelain. The Wooden Chair that customers had complained about several times fell completely apart, sending the scarred man stumbling into Martin.

Annan was about to press the attack when another thug grabbed him from behind.

Meanwhile, the scarred man and Martin had collided face-to-face. Martin could even see his own reflection in the man's eyes—and the "scar" peeling away. He rubbed his eyes in a daze. The scarred man hurriedly pressed the "scar" back into place, but he had barely finished when a fist rapidly filled his vision.

"Aaagh—"

With a dull thud, the scarred man dropped to his knees, clutching his crooked nose and howling in pain. The thug holding Annan froze. Annan seized the chance to struggle, and the two spun around the room like dancers.

"Aaah!!!"

Evelyn's scream suddenly came from behind the counter. A thug sprawled across it, reaching for her as she cowered in front of the wine cabinet.

Annan wanted to help, but he was held fast. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Martin just behind him, free of the scarred man, and shouted, "Martin, kick!"

Trust and teamwork prompted Martin to kick the wooden table in front of him without hesitation. He yelped.

"Kick me!"

As soon as Annan said it, Martin lowered his head and charged, sending both Annan and the thug holding him into the counter. They piled on top of the thug in front of it like a sandwich.

Evelyn stopped screaming. She snatched a heavy bottle from the wine cabinet and brought it down on the back of the head of the thug sprawled across the counter.

Crack!

The unconscious thug slid to the floor. While the other thug was stunned, Annan twisted around and pinned him against the counter.

"One more!"

Crack!

The second thug slid down the counter. Annan nodded to the flushed Evelyn and looked across the room—

The tavern was still in chaos. Thugs shouted and smashed things all around him, while Martin climbed onto tables and leaped from one to another.

Amid the swaying shadows, Annan spotted the customer in the corner, excitedly shouting for them to keep smashing. He suddenly realized the man was the one behind it all.

Annan pulled off his apron and rushed toward the customer. When a thug blocked his path, he pointed at Martin and shouted, "I'm with you... He's getting away!"

The moment the thug turned his head, Annan grabbed a bottle from the table and smashed it down. The thug dropped.

"Hey! You! You've broken the knights' code!" the drunken customer cried, pointing at Annan.

Taking a cue from Martin, Annan stepped onto a table and dodged a lunging thug. He rushed up to the customer, grabbed him by the collar, and held him captive.

"Stop!"

His shout rang out, and the fighting ground to a halt. The leader and his thugs all looked at Annan.

"If you don't stop, I'll..." Annan stumbled over a word he didn't know and forced himself to use the one with two meanings. "...'finish off' your boss!"

For a few seconds, nobody moved. Then one thug eagerly snatched up his club and began swinging it at Martin.

Meanwhile.

A pair of eyes watching the room through a gap in the attic floorboards pulled away. It was time to end this farce.

"That's enough testing."

An oil lamp lit up, revealing the figures in the attic: Faster, the gray-robed mage, Soluman Copperbeard, the bard—and even Lady Fine Wine.

Faster winced at the sight of the shattered bottles, the broken Wooden Chair, and the medical bills he would have to pay... He regretted bringing his suspicions to Pinglin Town.

As for whether Annan was the missing new lord of Breeze City, he no longer cared. Probably not, anyway... No noble would let himself end up in such a sorry state, especially one from an old family that had once been wealthy. Such families valued their reputation above all else.

Now it was time for the hero to make his entrance. Faster circled back to the front door and drove off the thugs with acting the bard rated "above average."

Annan and Evelyn, both unhurt, stood beside a bruised and battered Martin. All three wore triumphant smiles.

It was Annan's first fight in another world.

It hadn't been pretty, but they had won.

As for all the trouble Faster and the others had gone to, it had earned them a pile of tables and chairs to repair or replace, along with the wine they had lost.

And that customer probably would never come to the tavern again.