Chapter 3 (part 2)

It was dusk.

Both Noirxus and I (actually just me) are having trouble finding a good place to spar in. The town didn’t have any open areas where we could destroy the place in peace because I assure you, after we’re done sparring, the area will look like it’s been passed by a very selective storm. We can’t go outside because the town gates close at night which would lock us out.

After searching for a while in vain, I decided to give up, much to Noirxus' relief (he gets to live another day). I simply said to him in an icy voice, "I'm going to the bar to vent." He just nodded in response and I left, stomping.

I asked someone for directions and ended up in this rowdy, dirty, house of smelly old men type of place typically called a booze-house or bar (either works). Before I walked in, I made sure I had my hood up otherwise I’d be mistaken as one of the uncivilized. I entered with dignity and passed a few tables of fat, drunk men and sat in an empty table on the very far, isolated end of the house. And then I ordered wine.

I like alcohol yes, but I hate beer which is what people usually order in these bars. Beer is bitter and disgusting that I had to wonder sometimes how people can even stomach that stuff. It even looked like urine (I’m trying to be civilized). I shuddered as I watched men gulp that nasty stuff by the gallon.

A flagon accompanied by a wine glass arrived at my table. I smiled at the waitress who brought it and she weakly smiled back.

Poor waitress. She must have suffered much harassment in this pig house establishment.   

While I was taking my sweet time enjoying my glass of drink, I heard something very interesting, even pleasing.

“Those pansies in the tournament, especially the black one, never had the chance to stand against me!” a rough, drunk voice hollered.

He’s definitely talking about Noirxus. But the insult is very… undeniable. Even if he said it like that, it is accurate. Noirxus is a real pansy in my opinion and I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking it. I chuckled softly.  

“There’s even a girl in the tournament! The prize is as good as mine!” the man continued.

I stopped laughing at once. Correct me if I’m wrong but this guy is definitely talking about me. Now in my opinion, he can insult Noirxus or anyone I don’t care about like there’s no tomorrow but he should never attack me if he cares for his life.

I immediately emptied my glass of wine in one swift motion and walked towards the boasting piece of slug. I grabbed his beer mug from behind and poured the contents all over his head. Yeah that’s right, take that!

He turned to look behind him and I realized he was the Dragon Slayer.

Even better.

“Oops. Sorry I did it on purpose,” I said with a calm voice and even smiled my most menacing smile.

He cocked an arrogant eyebrow like he didn’t mind. He even took his finger to wipe his face and lick the yellow liquid. Ugh.

“Oh you’re that girl,” he said feigning ignorance. “You know girls shouldn’t make noises on a fighting stage. They should only make noises in my bed.”

The whole tavern burst into boisterous laughter. Haha, very funny.

“Oh, at least I have fought and won and everybody knows it. What about you?” I cocked the same arrogant eyebrow back at him. “You can’t even prove you killed a dragon. You won’t even participate in that tournament fairly, hah. Are you afraid, big baby?”

Now the whole house made a long ‘ooh’ noise.

He stood up. I never noticed that he was actually a head taller than me. “I don’t fight those weaker than me,” he said in a raspy, threatening voice.

“Oh what coincidence,” I replied, faking surprise. “I don’t fight weaklings like you too.”

“Whoa. You’re losing, man!” a man dared to say.

“Shut up!” The Dragon Slayer roared. There was silence. “Alright girl, you’re asking for it. Just don’t cry when I beat you and carry you to my bed. I like my women feisty,” he licked his lips.

I tried not to shudder in disgust. “Fine! Let’s do this here and now,” I challenged.

“Um,” the sweating barkeep interrupted rubbing his hands nervously. “Can you take this outside?”

“Here take this,” I said tossing him a pouch of money. If you thought that pouch was mine, then you don’t know me. I don’t pay. I make, force, or use others to pay. If you must know, I got the pouch by swiping it from the table. By the intricate embroidery, it might have belonged to the Dragon Slayer. And I don’t call it stealing though because steal is such a strong word. I call it picking up stuff from the ground. The Dragon Slayer didn’t notice it because one, he was drunk and two, he wasn’t looking at the pouch or where I got it. His focus was on me.

“Then please continue,” the barkeeper said after peering inside the pouch.

Everyone in the room rushed towards the walls, giving us enough space as possible to fight. Now this is what I call venting.