After all, it was Fafner's first time going to a tavern, so Mil chose a proper one—the tavern run by the Adventurers' Association.
Arriving near the tavern, the vicinity was already starting to get lively.
When they reached the tavern entrance, Fafner stopped again, his face gloomy as he stared at the tavern's sign—
“Dragon Slayer Tavern”
Mil awkwardly cleared his throat and pushed him inside:
“It's talking about evil dragons! Let’s go, let’s go…”
As soon as the door was pushed open, the clamor hit them like a hot wave, the shouts and noise seeming to shatter one's eardrums.
The scent of alcohol filled the air, mingled with the aroma of roasted meat. Iron chandeliers hanging from the tavern's vaulted ceiling swayed, casting a dim, yellow glow.
Fafner had truly never seen such a scene before; he stood frozen in place, three parts disgust, six parts surprise, and one part excitement…
“It’s so noisy here…”
Noticing that he seemed somewhat resistant, Mil pushed his back, guiding him into the tavern.
And all eyes in the tavern turned towards Mil and his companions.
Everyone first saw Lilith's charming and captivating face, their eyes seemingly glued to her.
What kind of noble lady would come here?
Their gazes, after much effort, shifted, only to then see the delicate, small face beneath the black hood…
Soon, whistles and shouts erupted from around them.
As soon as Mil and his companions took their seats in a corner, someone approached them:
“Two beauties, care for a drink?”
“Are you blind? They already have plans.”
Mil glared at the man without politeness. In the Holy City, as long as one revealed the identity of a Cardinal Deacon, no matter how drunk the other person was, they would immediately sober up from fright…
Otherwise, what awaited him would be the Holy Knight's sobering service—tied behind a horse and dragged for six streets.
Looking at the man’s appearance and equipment, he seemed to be a berserker, leaning on the table with a fierce expression:
“Brother, you’re hogging two… Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Bang—!”
Just as Mil was about to speak, Fafner suddenly slammed his palm on the table and roared:
“I’m a man!”
His voice carried the unique tremor of the dragon race, making the bar's glass cups hum.
If he were wearing women's clothes, it would be understandable, but even with a cloak and hood, he was still mistaken for a woman…
The burly man was first startled, then a sinister smile spread across his face:
“A man… That works too! Come over and have a couple of drinks with me?”
Fafner’s face was flushed, and his teeth ground together.
A crimson blush spread from his porcelain-white neck to the corners of his eyes, and beads of sweat dripped down his silver hair onto his loosened lace necktie. Anger and shame made his pink-tinged knees tremble slightly.
But Mil wore a cunning smile:
“How about this, you two arm wrestle. If you can beat him, then we’ll talk?”
“Hahaha! Arm wrestle with me? Ask them! How many can beat me? Come on—!”
With that, the burly man plopped down, spat some saliva onto his palm, rubbed it back and forth, and then slammed his elbow onto the table with a thud.
Fafner’s face showed disdain; he gritted his teeth and recoiled slightly.
Mil, however, tossed him a pair of gloves:
“Alright, you can borrow the gloves!”
The onlookers grew excited, cheering and egging them on, applause ringing out continuously.
Fafner’s expression turned fierce. After putting on the gloves, he placed his elbow on the table—
“Thud—!”
The battle ended in just 0.1 seconds.
The surroundings instantly fell silent. By the time the burly man reacted, his palm was already pressed into the wooden surface of the table.
“I’ll say it again, I’m a man.”
The burly man winced in pain, pulled his hand from the wood, and slunk away, gritting his teeth.
Just then, a female voice came from a distance—
“What a bunch of short-sighted people, can’t you even recognize Lord Mirfak?”
Mil looked over at the sound; it was the beast-eared girl who had slept for over a thousand years.
Her attire was the same as that day: an dark red Attila jacket, with white bandages wrapping her chest.
Her slender waist and defined abs flowed into a black silk hip-hugging skirt. She was tall, her eyes sharp as a cold blade, and the silver rings on her beast ears trembled slightly with each step.
“Sister Alesia? You’ve come down?”
As she passed, people around her rose to greet her, and everyone in the tavern began to murmur…
“Is that Mil?”
“And the lady with her, could that be Lilith?”
“I heard she was beautiful, but no one told me she was *that* beautiful!”
Alesia walked up to Mil and bowed gracefully:
“Lord Mirfak, hello!”
“Oh? Miss Alesia? It’s so late, aren’t you resting yet?”
Mil smiled, but Alesia seemed surprised, her ears involuntarily twitching:
“You… know me?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of you.”
“It’s an honor. This must be Miss Lilith, correct?”
Alesia bowed again, then her gaze turned to Lilith, who also rose and said:
“Hello.”
“And this young man… If I’m not mistaken, he must be His Royal Highness Fafner?”
As she spoke, Alesia lowered her voice slightly. Fafner looked somewhat alarmed, but Mil patted his shoulder with a smile:
“As expected of Miss Alesia, you have eyes and ears everywhere, don’t you?”
“You flatter me. If you don’t mind, may I buy you a drink?”
After they were seated, Alesia reintroduced herself, extending the conversation amidst everyone’s surprised gazes.
After a few sentences, she asked with some surprise:
“I heard… His Royal Highness Fafner doesn’t usually go out casually?”
Fafner looked a bit nervous, but Mil took over to explain:
“Uh… To be honest, I secretly brought him out this time.”
“I see.”
Alesia had a steady demeanor, and her expression didn't change much; she merely nodded while stroking her chin.
However, Mil asked with interest:
“By the way, regarding the Mistletoe Arrow Magic Society, Miss Alesia, have you heard of them before?”
“I have. They… have done quite a few absurd things.”
Alesia paused mid-sentence, her gaze turning to Fafner, seemingly concerned that he might mind.
And indeed, Fafner incredulously slammed the table and said:
“How can this be? The leader of the Mistletoe Arrow Magic Society is a hero who saved the Dragon Race from dire straits!”
“I apologize…”
Alesia seemed unwilling to cause a dispute, so she shook her head and ended the topic.
Soon, four frothy beers were brought over, followed by sizzling, greasy roasted meat…
Lilith rested her chin in her hand, seemingly not very interested, and Alesia only tasted a couple of bites.
Only Fafner and Mil were eating with great relish…
For Fafner, roasted meat wasn't something he hadn't eaten before; he occasionally sampled red wine too.
But imitating those adventurers and mercenaries, drinking so unrestrainedly, was a first for him.
After one glass of beer, Fafner seemed a bit drunk. He hooked his arm around Mil's neck and began to talk about everything under the sun…
Mil, however, felt that something was off with the boy:
“Why are you biting me?”
But just as they were enjoying their meal, Lilith suddenly frowned and warned:
“Wait a moment, are those the Holy Dragon Mansion guards?”
