Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 77 - Interview
🕑 Added 2025-08-15 20:10:15 +0000 UTCNear the bar was a table with a small sign on it that said ‘reserved’. That was my little corner of solitude. While it had four of the comfy new chairs placed around the circular drinking platform, only one of them had the impression left in the cushion that suggested regular use. I settled my buttocks into the familiar grooves and pulled a bottle of Golden Jack out of my storage space, along with a glass that I filled before taking a sip of the spicy liquor.
A small stage was set up along one wall, just six feet long and perhaps four wide. Just enough that the avatar of the God of Music that inhabited one of Totally-Sane Simeon’s creations could do his thing in style. The show wasn’t due to start for half an hour, but the bar was already crowded with fans, and more and more travellers were wandering in from other towns to trade and sit a while, just so they had an excuse to listen to Jacko-Bunnies tunes.
“You hungry, big guy?” asked my hirsute baker as she plopped a tray of pastries on the table next to my glass and lowered herself into the seat opposite me.
“Thanks, Jenny. How’s tricks?” I asked as I picked up one of the delicacies and popped it into my mouth to chew slowly. The girl was talented, and it tasted divine.
“Can you deliver this?” she asked, ignoring my question and sliding a piece of folded paper across the table.
“Your dad?” I asked, storing the message away.
“Yeah. Just to let him know I’m doing ok. And this.” She slid a gold piece across the table. “Get me a pair of twinned orbs and leave one with him.”
“Do you want to come with me? The portal can get the two of us there. It will only take a couple of days to recharge the portals, and we can fly over to Baginton before we come back,” I offered.
“No thanks. I just want to talk to him every now and then. Maybe I’ll take a holiday and go home in a couple of months. Esme is a good student, but she isn’t at the point where I’d be happy to leave her in charge of the kitchen.”
“I heard that!” Esme appeared beside me. “But you’re right. I’m a long way from matching you in terms of cooking. I’m a Sultry Gin Slinger, not a pure cookery class like Baker. Seeing as we’re passing on shopping lists, here you go, my lovely.” She placed another note on the table and leaned forward, gracing my eyes with her generous assets. My lust-monkey once again assaulted my greed-demon.
I picked it up and opened the note, scanning it quickly. More booze, more spices, and rare ingredients. Then down at the bottom…
“What’s Kelbrooks' Kinky Costume?” I asked, looking up into her smiling face. She leant down and kissed me.
“It will be worth every silver!” she whispered in my ear, her lips catching the lobe and pulling at it briefly as she rose back upright. Lust-monkey landed a solid uppercut on greed-demon’s chin, and I resolved to locate this item for my lady love.
“Hey, pretty lady! Some of us are thirsty over here!” called a voice from a nearby table. I leaned back so I could see around Esme’s curving hips and glared at the source of the voice.
“Well, I’d best get back to the kitchen!” said Jenny quickly as she rose and hurried behind the bar, disappearing into the backrooms of the pub.
“That’s no way to ask for service! You can order at the bar!” Esme called over her shoulder. She ran a finger down the side of my face to my chin, then pulled upwards to force me to look at her. “The joys of working a bar! Don’t eat him, lover!” She winked and then sashayed behind the counter to serve the next customer in line.
I no longer bothered to shift my eyes back to the human norm. The purple iris with slitted pupils served as an excellent reminder to any casuals that I bumped into that this was my territory. This fellow was perhaps rather more drunk than he should be and didn’t seem to notice the details; all he knew was that I’d been the recipient of the pretty barmaid's affection, and that I was now glaring at him. He rose to his feet unsteadily and shook off the hand of his compatriot to stagger over toward me.
“Think yer a big shot, eh?” he grumbled, settling into the seat opposite me. “Think you’re better than me?” he put his elbows on the table and leaned forward to flex his biceps. It vaguely reminded me of when Esme positioned herself to enhance her frontal assets.
“Currently, you’re not on the menu, mate. Why don’t you bugger off?” I growled.
“Menu? Ah, an eating competition, is it? Fine! Wench–urk!” I’d snapped forward and gripped both his wrists tightly, gradually increasing the pressure until bones creaked. “Barmaid! Fetch stew, lots of it!” My grip increased ever so slightly. “Please!” he added.
“Manners maketh the meat.” I smiled and allowed my teeth to become slightly more pointed than usual before releasing his wrists. No longer having to conceal what I was gave me the freedom to intimidate idiots.
“You file those teeth?” He turned to look back at his table. “Lockso, Nimbra, come join us!” Sometimes, as the saying goes, 'stupid is as stupid does,' I guessed.
“Who’s paying for the food?” I asked.
“The loser, of course! The winner buys the drinks. Sounds fair? My name's Handock.”
“I’m the dragon called Bob.” I gave him another pointed and pointy grin.
“Bob, ye say? Say, you don’t want to be using that name. Local lordling might take offence!”
“I reckon he’ll be ok with it,” muttered his female companion as she settled in the chair to my left. “I’m Nimbra. We’re here to run the dungeon, sir. I’m sorry about Hand.” She gave me an apologetic smile at the same time as her left hand pushed Handock back to an upright position. Her robes were purest white, lined with golden sigils that I recognised.
“You’re a devotee of Bulb?”
“Ten years now. The dark floors in your dungeon are why Lockso picked me for the team.”
“He won’t be joining us?”
“He’s not very talkative,” she replied. I glanced over, and the heavyset, dark skinned man simply nodded at me and picked up his ale to take a drink. His eyes were flat and cold and never left my face as he drained his tankard.
“What’s all this jibber jabber? Why aren’t we eating? WEN– Server, please could we get some stew?” bellowed Hand. He had flinched at my glare as he began to call Esme wench again and self-corrected.
“Esme, can you bring out a few bowls of stew, please? I want to see how long before this guy pukes!”
“You won’t have to clean it, Bob!” she snapped. “No way. That buffoon is already too pissed to know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.” I turned back to Hand and shrugged. “No eating competition. You’d have lost anyway.”
“Then arm wrestelingdom it is!” he replied happily.
“What now?”
“He wants an arm wrestling competition. He does this all the bloody time. Hand.” She took his face between her palms and turned his head until he was staring into her faintly golden eyes, “This is the local lord, the one with the scales, and the claws, and who owns the dungeon. Just calm down a bit, ok?” A flicker of light passed from her eyes into his, and he recoiled, both hands moving to clasp his head.
“Fuck, Nim. You know I hate it when you do that! Why the hell did you sober me up… oh.” His eyes met my own again just as my tongue flicked in and out to taste the air. He smelled of beer and arrogance, but Nim smelled delicious, and I had to fight down a sudden urge to eat her. Unfortunately, my ascot had not reappeared, and I could only bring myself to sieve through my poop for so many days before giving up on it. Some women just smelled like they would be delicious if eaten raw.
“Oh. I’m guessing I was being an obnoxious drunk?” he asked slowly.
“You challenged him to an eating competition, called his girlfriend a wench repeatedly, and then wanted to armwrestle. You could say that Hand. I’m sorry about him.” Nim said, turning to me with a rueful expression on her pretty face.
“No. I’m sorry. We won the last auction, so we’re due to run the Unnamed Dungeon in a few days. We were celebrating,” Hand added.
“How much did the ticket cost?” Auctioning tickets to run the dungeon after each reset had been Kat’s idea. Some cultivator bullshit about how awesome and exciting auctions are. I had not been impressed, but when the first two tickets had been bought for over a hundred and fifty gold a piece, I was willing to stop complaining about how stupid the system was.
“Three hundred gold and eight silver. Lockso picked up the tab on that one,” Hand muttered as he picked up his ale and sniffed at it before putting it back down with a queasy expression.
“And you expect to make it back in loot and kills?” I asked in surprise. I was also very pleased with this news. I’d have to kill a level thirty human or monster to make that much gold in one go, and while the auction house, which had replaced Lord Pratnip’s barracks, took a cut for staff and time and whatnot, I’d still get the dragon's share of the proceeds.
“Should do. More importantly, it’s an easy way to grind XP and level. That is worth more than gold. Hand here might hit level twenty-eight if he manages to get some finishing blows. Lockso is looking for thirty, and I’m aiming for twenty-five. Enough for our team to be entered into the rolls of the Adventurers Guild as full members and start picking up some decent jobs,” Nim said quietly.
“Any of you guys Outremondes?” I asked, producing three more glasses and pouring a measure of Golden Jack into each of them. I passed two to the pair seated at my table and set one aside.
“Lockso is. We’re Helstatian through and through,” Hand declared proudly. He lifted his new glass, took a sniff, and threw it back in one gulp. “Gods, rapid sobering is a killer, and the hair of the dog is the only solution!”
“Enjoy you’re drinks.” I refilled Hand’s glass as Nim sipped at her own. “I’d like to have a quick chat with Lockso.” I rose and moved across, carrying the glass of expensive liquor in one hand. I sat and slid the drink in front of the dour man. He eyed it suspiciously before looking up at me.
“Didn’t ask fer company,” he growled.
“And yet here I am. Where are you from?” I replied as he sniffed at his glass and took a sip.
“Don’t matter, dragon. I had to learn how to control my bladder again. Wasn’t lucky like you.”
I tasted the air. There was no fear in this man. If I transformed right now and loomed over him like a draconic henge, he’d just shrug and either walk away or try to kill me.
“After you run my dungeon, how would you like a job?”
