In the end, Lucian had no choice but to bring Patches along.
Leaving him behind wasn't an option.
He pulled out a rope and tied Patches' hands together. Then he mounted Torrent and rode ahead, forcing Patches to jog behind. Torrent slowed to little more than a walk, allowing Patches to keep up, but even so, the bald scoundrel was soon gasping for breath, stopping again and again to rest.
Fortunately, the destination wasn't far.
By the time Patches stopped for the last time, they could already see the derelict hut in the distance.
When he spotted it, Patches finally exhaled in relief. If they'd gone much farther, he might not have survived the trip.
He did briefly consider asking to ride with Lucian. It would have been far easier. But Lucian had flatly told him that Torrent didn't want Patches on his back.
Patches spat to the side. "What the hell? It's just a horse, and it dares look down on me?"
Still, he figured it was really Lucian who didn't want him to ride along. After all, what kind of nonsense was a horse saying it didn't like someone? Who in their right mind could talk with animals?
But this time, Patches had misjudged him. Torrent really had expressed as much to Lucian—not wanting such a filthy fellow to climb on its back. Lucian himself wasn't eager either, so Patches had no choice but to suffer.
And as an escaped prisoner, he really had brought it upon himself.
Lucian tugged the rope, prompting him onward. Patches followed begrudgingly; without prodding, he'd have happily collapsed in place.
The hut itself, among Liurnia's countless ruins, was in relatively good condition. It kept the rain out, and more importantly, it stood above the waterline rather than submerged.
As they approached, both men caught the scent of cooking. Following it, they came around to the front, where a massive pot sat unattended, steam curling upward.
Patches, curious as ever, strode up and lifted the lid.
Inside, bright-red crabs and prawns filled the pot. No spices, no sauces—just plain boiling water, yet the rich aroma was mouthwatering.
As always, the finest ingredients required only the simplest preparation.
Seeing the feast, Patches immediately sat down and began digging in without hesitation.
"Oh? Would you look at that—cooked prawn and crab, just waiting for me."
"Lucky, lucky. I was getting hungry."
"In that case, I won't be shy!"
Watching him make himself at home, Lucian couldn't help but sigh. "Obviously, someone lives here. How exactly is this something you 'found'?"
But Patches, cheeks bulging with lobster, kept prying open crab shells. "Doesn't matter. If I see it, it's mine," he mumbled through a full mouth.
Lucian only shrugged. It wasn't worth pulling food straight from Patches' mouth. He could settle things with the owner later and pay them properly.
Though tempted to taste the prawn and crab himself, he held back. Until he saw the cook, he refused to touch it. That was his principle. Who knew—eat the wrong thing, and he might end up turned into a pig. (Probably)
Sure enough, the commotion drew someone from inside.
Out strode a man wearing a full iron mask over his head, fists encased in heavy gauntlets—the infamous thug Raya Lucaria had spoken of. The so-called Prawn Dealer.
He raised a gauntleted fist at Patches' shiny head and bellowed, "Hey! Who the hell are you, eating my prawn and crabs!?"
But Patches ignored him, still chewing noisily. He even shot back with arrogance; "You should feel honored I'm eating your food, brat!"
The iron mask hid the man's expression, but his trembling body showed his fury. "Do you know who I am!? I'm the one they call the 'Ogre Trickster' a wanted criminal from Leyndell!"
Patches gave him a withering glance.
He'd seen plenty like this before. Nobodies, clinging to the smallest deeds to puff themselves up. And that prisoner's mask—he could've taken it off long ago. Keeping it on just for show.
And 'Ogre Trickster'? Really? What a pathetic moniker.
Against people like this, the only way forward was to bluff even harder—something Patches excelled at.
"Ha! You're the Ogre Trickster? Don't make me laugh! You should've heard of me—Patches!"
He flashed a crooked grin, voice rising as he launched into his self-made litany: "I am the Giant-Slayer! The Mysterious Merchant! The Scourge of the Undead! The Miner Who Can Strip a Shaft in a Day! Savior-for-Hire! And above all—'Mad' Patches!"
Lucian nearly lost composure. How Patches could rattle off such nonsense with a straight face was beyond him. Most of it had nothing to do with him at all—and "Giant-Slayer" was clearly invented on the spot.
Still, against all odds, the Prawn Dealer faltered. If he was just a "Trickster," then this bald bastard was a full-on "Slayer"!
"Y-you—doesn't matter! You still can't steal my prawn!"
But the man wasn't completely witless. He soon realized Patches was bluffing just like him. "Wait a second. You've got a miner's script on you. You're nothing but a digger, aren't you?"
Patches tossed away a crab shell and sneered. "Oh? Then do you even know who this man beside me is!?"
He gestured toward Lucian, but Lucian quickly cut him off with a cough. "Ahem."
Cold sweat trickled down Patches' brow. He'd nearly gone too far.
The Prawn Dealer raised his fists again. "You bastard! Stealing my food—I'll beat you senseless!"
But Patches only stuffed more crab into his mouth, calm as ever. "Who said I was stealing? I clearly said 'I humbly partake.'"
"Damn you! I'll gut you!"
Their foreheads pressed together—iron mask to bald scalp—as they glared furiously.
Lucian simply watched. Sometimes it took a scoundrel to deal with another scoundrel, and Patches was clearly the superior one here.
At last, Lucian interjected; "Have you seen a girl? Blonde hair, green robe. Young."
The Prawn Dealer paused, recognizing the description. "So, you know her. Guess she didn't die by the roadside…"
He shrugged, dismissive. "Doesn't matter. If she got conned, that's her fault."
Lucian's silent gaze bore into him. Years of blood and battle radiated from his stillness. Against those calm eyes, the thug faltered. That look was more terrifying than ten thousand trolls.
He relented, blustering weakly, "Tch. If you want the necklace, cough up some runes!"
Lucian smiled faintly. At least he was talking now. "Fine. Name your price. The necklace is still with you, yes?"
The thug reached into his clothes to retrieve it—only to freeze. "What—where is it…?"
He searched frantically but found nothing.
From the side came mocking laughter. Patches dangled the necklace in his hand. "Looking for this?"
Both Lucian and the Prawn Dealer stared, stunned. Somehow, Patches had swiped it right under their noses.
"Give it back!" the thug lunged.
Patches pulled it away with a smirk. "Return it? Why would I return something I earned?"
"That's theft!"
Patches scoffed. "By rights of skill, it's mine. Why should I pay?"
That was the last straw. The thug roared. "Bastard! Let's settle this outside!"
"Ha! Who's afraid of a small-time thug like you?"
The two stormed behind the hut, fists swinging. Lucian didn't bother watching; their squabble held no interest. He sat down, cracked open a prawn, and finally tasted it.
The meat was firm, plentiful, and sweet even boiled in plain water. Exquisite.
He wondered how much flesh the colossal lobster they'd slain earlier might yield.
Before long, the two returned, arms around each other's shoulders, bruised but grinning like old friends.
"Ah, Brother Patches! I didn't expect to meet such a man today!"
"Hahaha! Say no more. From now on, I'll be under your protection!"
Lucian blinked in disbelief. "…It's over already?"
The thug beamed. "We fought, we bonded. A shame we met so late in life. From now on, I'll watch Patches' back—and together, we'll turn Liurnia into a seafood paradise!"
Then he turned to Lucian with surprising politeness. "And you must be Patches' boss. Please, eat as much prawn and crab as you like."
Lucian was speechless. Patches, what in the Lands Between did you say to him??
Still, he steered the matter back to the point. "Enough. Tell me why you stole that girl's necklace."
The Prawn Dealer scratched his iron mask. "Well, she came here, ate my prawn. Normally, I wouldn't care. But she ate a lot. You wouldn't believe her appetite. Since she had no runes, I took her necklace as payment and sent her off."
Patches immediately smacked the back of his head. "Idiot! Robbing a child's trinket won't get you anywhere. Go after wandering nobles if you want real loot!"
The thug blinked, as if enlightened. "Ah… you're right…"
Lucian held out his hand, and Patches reluctantly surrendered the necklace.
Lucian studied it closely. It was finely made, carved with the image of a beautiful foreign woman—Lady Tanith, mistress of Volcano Manor, consort of Rykard.
Even in relief, her elegance was undeniable. No wonder Rykard had taken a dancer for his consort.
Lucian tucked the necklace away. "That's enough. We're leaving. If you want to see Patches again, go to Stormveil Castle. Bring your prawn and crabs—people may even welcome you."
The Prawn Dealer was no true villain. In the game, his dying wish was to walk the righteous path. Lucian was willing to grant him the chance.
He left behind a Golden Rune [6], worth two thousand runes—more than enough to cover both the necklace and the food.
The thug stared at it in awe, sweat dampening his back as he watched them depart.
In that moment, he made a decision. Perhaps becoming a proper cook wasn't so bad after all. He could spread the joy of prawn and crab far and wide.