The scent of cheap beer and rare meat permeated the air. Not that I cared. After a few hundred years, you get used to ignoring that sort of thing.
The table under my fingers was damp. I ran my index finger along the cuts left by former patrons... warriors, mercenaries, thieves. People who come and go, disappearing like dust in the wind.
But not me. I'm always here. Unfortunately, only mortals have the privilege of leaving.
I grabbed the glass mug and took another sip. The sour taste burned my throat. Honestly, I didn't even know why I kept drinking. Perhaps because it's one of the few things that still makes me feel... well, anything.
Or maybe because getting high on something numbs my mind against the voices and disturbing images that 3,000 years of pure torment can plant in a human's head.
My head was already spinning. I rested it against the cold window, with raindrops softly tapping on the glass, and stared for a few minutes at the tavern's water-damaged wooden ceiling. Then I closed my eyes.
I was exhausted. I can hardly remember the last good night's sleep I had.
The voices from the tavern were a distant hum. They laughed, shouted, and fought. Always the same ritual, like a repeating and boring cycle.
And then, like a whisper from forgotten memories...
"I was there on my knees, my sword stuck in the Demon Queen's chest, as she took her last breath. Her curiously golden blood flowed like a cascade down the stairs and through the gaps in the bricks. The Alliance army's roar of victory was deafening, but for me, it wasn't a victory.
Tears burned my face, my numb hands rubbed my eyes as I remembered my dead companions. My weak voice could only manage a few words:
"We did it. She's dead... Micah, Josephine..."
A stab of pain made me open my eyes. My head was starting to show signs that this would be another sleepless night... or one of endless nightmares.
However, a peculiarly disturbing feeling told me that this night would not be like any other.
Perhaps it was my mind showing signs of insanity, or just the effect of the alcohol intensifying. After all, three glasses of Bajo and ten mugs of beer can make even a dwarf feel a few sleepy.
I was about to take another sip when the tavern door opened.
The smell of rain and the cold of the night hit me hard.
I looked up and saw two hooded figures. One was tall and lanky, but with a rigid posture. Their hands were clad in leather gloves, and their boots were made of some kind of dull metal.
I couldn't see a sword, but from their clothing and the way he held the door open for the other to pass, he could be a bodyguard.
The smaller figure walked with long, pompous strides, as if he didn't want to hide the fact that he didn't belong there.
She walked straight to the bar and stopped with her hands resting on it. Her face was hidden in shadow by her hood and the poorly lit tavern. I squinted a little and saw the golden sparkle of her eyes.
Elves.
Great. As if my night wasn't shitty enough already.
My instincts told me to leave, but then I heard the name that constantly causes me serious headaches.
"We're looking for the man of the rumors. The one who knows where the Mad Hero's sword is."
The mug groaned under my grip.
For a second, the whole tavern fell silent.
I felt a tingling sensation in the back of my neck that spread throughout my body, as if all my instincts were screaming at me to get up and leave.
But before I could do that, someone slammed their fist on the table.
"Hey, sweetie." The drunken, husky voice came from the table next to me. "Isn't it dangerous to go asking around about myths?
The girl turned around, her bodyguard already in position.
The entire tavern was now paying attention to them.
And if there's one thing I've learned in these long centuries of life, it's that when an entire tavern pays attention to you, something very bad is about to happen.
The drunk stood up. He was big, bald, and as ugly as he was muscular. From a distance, you could smell the alcohol and the stench of something that hadn't bathed in years. Three others around him also stood up.
"You know, I like stories," he smiled, revealing extremely dirty teeth. "And I also know where the Mad Hero's sword is."
The others laughed.
The girl crossed her arms, bored.
"Really?"
The brute laughed. He scratched the counter with his finger as he slowly approached.
"Yeah, really. Why don't you come to my room? There I can show you the... Legendary Sword."
The tavern erupted in laughter.
Idiots.
The girl sighed, seemingly accustomed to dealing with this type of people whose intelligence could compete with a troll.
Then she straightened up and replied.
"I'm sorry, but I think the only thing your... sword... should be legendary is in bowing down to the ladies.
Louder than the first time, the tavern filled with laughs. Some pounded on the table, even some of the henchmen tried to hide their chuckles.
The bully turned red with rage, then lunged toward the girl. His bodyguard moved like an arrow in front of him, and that's when I made the first stupid mistake of the night.
In some stupid reflex, I raised my glass and downed the rest of my beer. Then, without ceremony, I threw the mug right in the big guy's face.
The glass shattered in the middle of the bully's nose, who recoiled slightly and groaned in pain. The silence was so deep that if there had been a fly in the rain, you could have heard it.
Staggering and with blood running from his nose, he blinked, confused, trying to process what had happened. He saw me with my hand raised and then roared.
"YOU SON OF A—
Before he could finish, he was already lunging at me.
He tried to punch me, but I dodged and he hit the empty table he was standing on, breaking the wood with a crack.
I spun around quickly and aimed a weak kick at the side of his knee. The bully grunted and fell onto one of the tables, knocking over mugs and plates.
His friends pulled out knives.
"Are you serious?" I muttered.
The first one attacked.
I just stepped aside, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it. He groaned in pain. I turned him around and kicked him in the butt, sending him face-first to the floor.
The second one tried to grab me from behind. Bad idea.
I took a step forward, crouched slightly, and elbowed him in the nose. Instinctively, as he bent down to touch his nose, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and kneed him. The crack of his nose breaking was dizzying.
The third hesitated for a moment. I took a step forward, threatening to go after him, but he ran out the door.
The brute was still struggling to get up. I walked towards him and kicked him hard in the ribs. He fell, rolling away from my table.
The two who were lying on the floor got up and went to their leader and helped him up. They walked towards the door and left in the rain and cold of the night.
The entire tavern watched in absolute silence.
I sighed and looked at the girl.
She was staring at me in a strange way.
"What is it?" I asked.
She smiled.
"Nothing. I just... found it interesting. Could I buy my savior a drink?"
I headed for my seat.
"No, thank you very much."
She let out an awkward laugh under her hood:
"Please, I insist."
And she came walking toward me. Behind her, her bodyguard, like a puppy wagging its tail...
My head started to hurt again, and an inner voice told me that this girl was going to cause me serious trouble.