The only reason Wox came to this tavern was because it was quieter than most others in the town.
Unlike the crowded taverns near the market square, this place rarely had many customers. Most of the time, there were more empty tables than occupied ones.
That was exactly how Wox preferred it.
But it looked like today there were more people than usual, and the noise was louder than he liked. It put him in a bad mood.
“It’s been a while, Wox. Where have you been?”
The cheerful voice came from behind the counter. It belonged to the tavern owner, Clyde. He seemed to be in his forties, bald, with a long black beard. He had a rough appearance, but there was a certain warmth in the way he spoke. Over the years, he had grown fond of Wox.
Wox glanced over and walked toward him.
“I had to go out of town for work.”
“Work? I thought you were tight on mercenary work these days.”
Wox took a seat at the counter. “Yeah, I am. But a request came in a few days ago, and since I was low on money, I took it. Didn’t pay much, though.”
“That’s what happens when you keep working alone. Join a group already. Or better yet, work with the Templars. They pay well.”
Wox leaned slightly against the counter.
“You already know I prefer working alone.”
“You mean you don’t like people.”
“Same thing.”
“That’s why you still don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I don’t want one either.”
Clyde laughed under his breath. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still the same as the first time you walked in here.”
“Stop bothering me and just give me the usual.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Clyde grabbed the bottle and started filling a wooden glass.
Back when Wox had first started coming here, he had not spoken a single word. He would sit in a corner, drink in silence, and leave. That went on for a while.
Then Clyde started talking to him. At first, Wox ignored him. But Clyde kept at it, sitting with him, talking whether Wox responded or not. Eventually, Wox gave in. Answering was less annoying than sitting through Clyde’s one-sided conversations.
Clyde placed the mug in front of him. “Here you go, your one like always.”
Wox picked up the glass, but just before taking a sip, his reflection shimmered in the wine. His green eyes looked back at him, half hidden beneath the strands of black hair falling over his forehead. He stared at it for a second before finally taking a sip.
“…I’m telling you, it’s true. Someone spotted a werewolf.”
“A werewolf? You’re joking, right?”
Three men sat at a table near the wall, speaking casually among themselves.
“I’m serious. Some people spotted it near the eastern woods. And not long after that, four bodies were found in the same area. The knights said the victims are criminals they’d been chasing.”
“You know there haven’t been any werewolf sightings since the war, right? They don’t exist anymore.”
“Exactly. They’re supposed to be extinct.”
“Then what is this? Another story made up by the knights?”
“Of course. Whenever those knights want to hide something, they always create stories like this. I don’t believe them anymore.”
Everyone knew the knights had their own way of dealing with problems. A few bodies, a convenient explanation, and the matter was forgotten. People stopped trusting those stories a long time ago.
“I still remember how those knights blamed a vampire for slaughtering that whole village.”
“You mean the village that got wiped out fifteen years ago?”
“Yeah, that one. But do you really believe one vampire could massacre an entire village by himself? There wasn’t even a single witness.”
Comments (4)
See all