“You’re staying here because you don’t have the money to move?”
“Yeah. But if I leave the city right now, then, what do you call it, my head’s probably going to be hanging by a thread. And if I try leaving with a merchant caravan, those people aren’t exactly coming and going freely either.”
“Come on, you should’ve said something. If the mage knew, they’d probably have given you a room in the Magic Tower.”
“I already got the offer. But what kind of shameless bastard would I be if I accepted that?”
Windhand, who had opened the window to let Deathbringer enter, pulled out the little flask of alcohol he always carried around.
Thanks to the god-awful weather, the liquor inside the metal container was extremely cold.
One of the North’s few advantages.
“If you put it that way, then that makes me shameless too.”
“No, you actually do a lot. I’m just some guy who tried to repay a favor once and ended up getting stuck here.”
He swallowed a mouthful of the cold liquor and let out an appreciative “Khh.”
Cold when it touched the tongue and hot as it slid down the throat.
Now that was alcohol.
“Still.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Besides, the Adventurer comes by every so often, so nobody around here bothers me.”
“Sir does?”
“Yeah.”
Maybe it was because someone built like a door and looking obviously like…