Scroll 57: A Night of Temptation, A Night of Agony

The group walked along the uneven dirt roads at a slow pace. The lanterns lining the path were their main source of light; while Alaster could see perfectly well in the dark, the same couldn't be said for his companions. It was chilly, and the night breeze carried away the elf’s warm breath.

“So,” Alaster asked, “where is this tavern supposed to be?”

“Near the center of town,” Syrus answered.

“From what I heard, some of the girls here have extremely low standards,” Tagard chimed in.

Syrus snorted.

“No girl is desperate enough to spend the night with you.”

Alaster was caught off guard by the sheer coldness of the remark.

“Ahem. You’d probably be better off finding yourself a nice woman, Tagard,” the elf stepped in.

The man laughed.

“Easier said than done, Al. Girls don’t pay any attention to me—there are no 'nice girls' out there for me. Some guys are just born under a lucky star that lights their path to love, and others...” Tagard paused, “...like me, have a shooting star that plummets from the sky and sterilizes the whole trail with a blast.”

Alaster burst into laughter.

“It can’t be that bad.”

He glanced at the warrior. The guy wasn’t ugly, and he was in great physical shape; if you set aside his problematic, weirdly timid personality, he shouldn't have had any trouble.

“Tagard is way too rude,” Syrus pointed out. “He says inappropriate stuff constantly, which is why girls run away from him. You know what he said when he first met Elise?”

Tagard grumbled:

“Here we go...”

“What? Was he rude to her?” Alaster asked.

“Rude is putting it lightly,” Syrus replied. “He introduced himself and then told her she was cute even though her chest was flat. What kind of creep says that?”

Alaster looked sideways at the red-haired warrior. Tagard just shrugged.

“I don’t get it. What’s so wrong with that?”

The elf sighed.

“That’s not just wrong, man, that’s terrible. That explains why Elise barely speaks to you.”

“One tiny slip-up and people treat you like you don’t have feelings,” Tagard protested with a shrug. “Frankly, if that’s how they are, I’d rather stay single than spend my life monitoring every single word out of my mouth.”

«What Tagard says are flat-out insults; there’s no way any girl would put up with that,» Alaster thought, though he kept it to himself. It wasn’t his place, and he had no plans to start giving relationship advice. «I have my hands full with Feralt as it is.»

Walking past several closed shops, they arrived at a large four-story building made of timber and stone. The entrance and surrounding area were well-lit. Stepping inside, the quiet of the night faded away, replaced by a bustling atmosphere. A string instrument—which Alaster recognized as a lute—was playing, accompanied by rhythmic drumming.

Syrus headed straight toward an empty table on the right, well away from the foot traffic. Alaster followed him through the crowd. Before even sitting down, he could feel the beat vibrating in the air. Realizing Tagard wasn't with them, he glanced back over his shoulder.

The redhead was a few yards behind, stopped by a girl holding onto his arm. Sitting in a chair, the young woman had brown hair, big blue eyes, and thin eyebrows. For a town girl, she was quite dolled up, wearing her hair loose and wearing a white dress with a blue bodice. She looked up at him with a smile, radiating an unabashedly flirtatious vibe.

The music and chatter kept Alaster from hearing the conversation, but he clearly saw Tagard, dressed in his light brown jacket and white shirt, stare directly at the girl's chest before answering her.

The young woman's hand instantly dropped from Tagard’s arm, and her face crumpled into a sharp scowl. Her tablemates gasped in surprise, a few of them bursting out laughing. Judging by the brown-haired girl's reaction, things had gone downhill fast.

Tagard stopped smiling like an idiot and started walking toward the elf, while the girl remained in her seat, talking intently with her friends.

As Tagard drew near, Alaster couldn't contain his curiosity:

“Hey, what happened with that girl? What did she say?”

“Nothing. She just told me her name was Lissy.”

“Then why’d she get mad? What did you say to her?”

Tagard walked past toward Syrus’s table without answering, with Alaster right on his heels.

“Come on, man, it couldn’t have been that bad,” the elf pressed as he took a seat.

“Drop it, elf,” the warrior muttered.

“What happened?” Syrus asked.

“No idea,” Alaster said. “A girl stopped Tagard, flirted with him, but apparently he said something to set her off. And now he won’t spill.”

Syrus raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Well?”

“According to him, she gave him her name, Lissy, and now he’s keeping his mouth shut,” the elf explained with a shrug.

“What did you say to her?” Syrus pressed.

Tagard stared down at the table.

“I don’t get why she got mad. I just said she had a nice name.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! I don’t get it either,” Alaster said.

Syrus narrowed his eyes at the warrior.

“That’s not all of it, is it?”

Tagard shook his head.

“I told her it was a nice name—just like my eighty-five-year-old maternal grandmother, who’s also named Lissy.”

Alaster dragged a hand down his face, mostly to smother a laugh. Syrus, grinning, raised a hand to catch the attention of a waitress with a plunging neckline.

«They sure take their nightlife seriously in this town,» Alaster thought. «I never saw the waitresses in Sibar wear anything like that—least of all Jinneth, or at least not that I ever saw.»

The waitress walked over. She was remarkably well-endowed up front—perhaps a bit too much for the elf’s taste. Tagard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, while Syrus’s gaze drifted every few seconds. The girl seemed to thoroughly enjoy the attention.

Looking straight at the elf, she said:

“Evening, boys. What can I get you handsome gentlemen to drink tonight?”

“Mead,” Syrus ordered.

“Beer,” Tagard answered.

“Mead for me as well, and some bread rolls,” Alaster added.

The blonde waitress gave him a flirtatious look and leaned in close.

“Did you say rolls?”

She leaned in so far that her neckline dipped completely open, giving the elf a clear view of her nipples beneath the thin fabric. Alaster shifted his gaze up to meet the girl’s green eyes, her pupils noticeably dilated. She was barely eight inches from his face, allowing him to catch every subtle flicker of her expression—including the moment she licked her lips.

“Yes, some bread rolls if you have any. I haven't had dinner, and I’d rather not drink on an empty stomach.”

The girl bit her lip hard.

“Alright, boys, I’ll be right back. The town heroes get special treatment tonight.”

She turned around with a quick swivel in her comfortable flats and walked off. Her waitress uniform was ridiculously short.

The elf suddenly felt a bit flushed. «I think that waitress outfit actually got to me. Looks like the hangover effect from that brutal beating by Mila has completely worn off.»

In under five minutes, at least three other girls approached their table to chat. Not with Alaster—who would have turned them down anyway—but with Tagard; yet after a few of his bizarre replies, they ended up rushing off.

Alaster looked around. The place was packed with women. Not just the gorgeous dancers entertaining the crowd with suggestive moves to the beat of the drum and lute, but also female patrons grabbing drinks after work.

«Why are there so many women here? They completely outnumber the men...» he noted, spotting the obvious imbalance. They made up roughly seventy percent of the crowd. Looking closer, he picked up on the dynamic: the girls kept walking up to the men to strike up conversation, but most of the guys didn't seem all that interested.

«The culture in this town is wild. Is this one of those places that lost most of its male population?»

Off in the distance, the waitress—whose name turned out to be Inary—was talking to two of her coworkers and Jess, the leader of the dance troupe.

“Did you see who’s sitting at table fourteen?” the waitress asked with a grin.

“No,” Jess replied.

Jess was a tall woman with an athletic, sculpted figure, dressed in a sheer skirt split high on both legs. The garment was short enough to display the lace straps of her underwear at her hips without a shred of subtlety. Two crossed bands of fabric covered her firm chest. Her black hair fell loose, with long bangs grazing feline eyes of a blue so pale they looked almost white. Her exotic appearance stood in stark contrast to the more rustic look of the other local girls.

“Is it one of those rugged, bulky soldiers you’re into?” Jess continued. “You should stop picking men based purely on looks, Inary—you’re just going to end up with arrogant jerks.”

“No, you’re just blind. Look over at those three.”

Jess’s light eyes—accentuated with Egyptian-style makeup that gave her a distinctly feminine charm—locked onto the elf. She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, is that the elven mage I heard fought in the battle today?”

“Is there another elf in this town?” Inary shot back haughtily.

Jess gave her a dismissive look for a second and began walking toward the table.

“Are you really gonna try and hit on him? I saw him first!” Inary protested.

Jess glanced back over her shoulder:

“Are you insane? I have no desire to publicly humiliate myself. Besides, if you think you’re sleeping with that elf, you deserve to be humiliated for being so naive.”

The waitress glared at her angrily:

“Shut up, prude. Look at you, strutting over to those guys pretending you don’t care.”

Jess rolled her eyes.

“Talking to that group is the most interesting thing happening in this town right now—way better than listening to those rough farmers exaggerate their stories.”

With that, the dancer turned back around, her hips swaying provocatively in strappy sandals that wrapped high up her legs. The other girls burst out laughing, while a furious Inary went off to fetch the drinks.

Over at the table, Tagard was already leaving with a short girl who had invited him to sit with her and her friend a short distance away.

“That piece of advice you gave him was surprisingly effective for how simple it was,” Syrus commented.

“I literally just told him to keep his mouth shut, nod, and answer direct questions without saying anything sexual or mentioning anyone’s body or age. I’m pretty sure that covered ninety-nine percent of the stupid stuff he says.”

Syrus burst out laughing:

“You basically told him not to speak unless spoken to.”

“He’s not a bad guy, he just doesn’t know how to behave. That’s all.”

Their conversation was cut short as a silky female voice drifted between them:

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

Looking up at the source of the voice, the elf was momentarily taken aback. A tall, gorgeous woman with an exotic look was standing before them. Most striking of all were her pale eyes and the heavy makeup accentuating her features.

“I’m Jess, leader of 'The Fairies of the Southern Lake.'”

She delicately extended her hand to Syrus, who took it gently. Her hand looked like a petal inside the large palm of his hand. Alaster shook her hand for a brief second as well, offering a polite smile.

“So you’re the heroes who saved the town today?”

“That’s us,” Syrus grinned. “We put a stop to that nasty golem. My friend Alaster here finally blew its head off with his magic.”

The elf nodded:

“He’s Syrus, and as you heard, my name is Alaster.”

The woman smiled radiantly:

“Manners first, Lord Alaster.”

“Just call me Al, no need for formalities.”

Syrus, who for some reason wasn't wearing his wedding ring, chimed in:

“Why don’t you sit down and keep us company for a bit, Miss Jess?”

“I shouldn’t...” she started to say, but she glanced at Alaster for a split second and continued: “Actually, I won't decline. Truth is, I’m a little curious to hear how you two ended up here.”

“Just a standard guild quest,” Syrus answered right away.

The woman’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“You’re brave adventurers.”

Syrus sat up straight in his chair while Alaster joked:

“He’s the brave one. I prefer staying alive as long as possible.”

Jess let out a throaty laugh.

“Then I’d better stay close to Syrus if anything happens,” she said, leaning toward the tank.

Syrus’s eyes locked onto her toned abdomen and exposed navel, drifting right up to her chest. The top section of her outfit pulled slightly away from her firm breasts, giving the tank a clear view down her top.

Alaster took in the scene. «This woman is playing cat-and-mouse with our libido. First Detrix, then the girls, Pina accidentally kissing me, Remis in her pajamas, Deinderatrix’s confession, a suggestive waitress, and now a man-eating dancer. Has life no mercy on me? I’m drinking my mead and heading straight home before someone else comes along and flashes their chest at me.»

The dancer slid her chair closer to Syrus and rested a hand on his arm.

“That elf would leave me behind for the goblins to eat, but you wouldn’t, right, Master Syrus?”

The tank grinned ear to ear as she ran her hand down his arm. Alaster glanced over at Tagard’s table nearby, where the redhead was in a similar situation with a young girl clinging to his arm. «Great, now I’m the third wheel.»

Just then, Inary arrived carrying a tray of drinks.

“Here’s your mead,” she said, placing a mug in front of Syrus. “And yours,” she added, setting another down for Alaster. “And this one is on the house,” she concluded, sliding a small clay glass toward the elf.

Alaster looked at her with a clear question mark on his face. Next, the woman placed an unopened bottle of rum on the table—a sight that reminded him the port was only a five-hour wagon ride away. Rum had always been a classic drink in port towns, and apparently here as well.

“Is the bottle for us?” he asked.

“Yep,” the waitress smiled slyly.

She popped the cork out with a practiced flick, producing a sharp pop. The elf placed a hand over hers on the bottle.

“I’ll start with some mead first, then move on to the rum. The night is still young,” Alaster said, though mentally he was thinking: «I’m not drinking too much. I don’t know how this elven body handles alcohol; I’ll test the waters with the mead before touching the rum—wouldn’t want to end up crawling through the streets like a drunkard.»

The woman’s smile widened. Alaster pulled his hand back, realizing he had left it over hers a moment longer than intended.

“Mind if I join you for a bit?” she asked.

Alaster glanced over at Syrus and Jess, who were leaning close as she talked about wanting to be the lead dancer at a venue in Sibar while he showered her with compliments, assuring her she’d pull it off.

“Please, take a seat,” the elf replied, adding in his head: «Don't leave me alone with these two—they’re about to get a room any second now.»

The waitress sat beside him, though not as close as Jess was to Syrus, who was practically sitting in her lap. As if reading the elf’s mind, the dancer’s hands suddenly disappeared beneath the table, and Syrus’s face twitched slightly.

Alaster looked away, casually glancing toward Tagard’s table, but the warrior and his companions were already gone.

“So, elf... I know your name is Alaster—everyone in town knows our hero. I’m Inary, by the way,” she said, leaning forward and pulling her chair closer. “What’s a lonely elf doing in a town like this?” she asked, reaching her hands across the table toward his.

«I shouldn’t have come. This place is crawling with horny women and couples hooking up.»

“Actually, I’m seeing someone, so I wouldn’t call myself lonely,” Alaster answered, gently pulling his hand back.

Inary cared less about the rejection—which she expected from an elf—than the piece of news he’d just dropped.

“So you’re married to an elf?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Uh, no. I’m not married. She’s my girlfriend, but she’s human.”

Jess, who had been stroking Syrus’s leg, froze mid-motion upon hearing the conversation.

“Hold on,” the dancer interjected. “You’re dating a human?”

The girl shifted her light eyes down to the tank’s leg and slid her hand into Syrus’s pants pocket. He looked startled for a split second before relaxing, accepting his fate. Jess pulled her hand back out, holding the man's wedding ring between her fingers.

“Brave hero,” Jess said, tossing her black mane as she pushed her chair back from Syrus and dropped the ring onto the table.

She didn't leave; she simply slid back to her original spot, cast a side-eye at Syrus—one of disapproval mixed with a tinge of disappointment—and settled in. Alaster glanced at the tank too, who didn't seem bothered at all: he picked up his ring, slid it back on, stared at it for a moment, and took a long swig from his mug. Alaster followed suit with his own drink, which was already nearly empty.

“So you’re dating a girl?” Jess asked the elf, keeping her eyes on Syrus, curious about his lack of reaction.

Alaster smiled.

“It’s a pretty standard story. You know: new elf in town stays at an inn, meets the owner’s daughter, they hit it off... The usual.”

Both women stared at the elf with wide eyes. «The usual? Where on earth is THAT normal?» they both thought. Inary pondered: «The usual is walking up, hitting on the elf, and having him tell you to sod off—not falling in love with you.»

While the girls were processing that, Syrus—who had poured himself some rum into his empty mead mug—commented between sips:

“My friend Al here is the least elven neovan you’ll ever meet. He’s casual, jokey, has a human girlfriend, and on top of that, his hair is dyed because the Sibar guard is looking for him.”

Alaster’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at what the tank just blurted out. He glared daggers at him, screaming in his head: «Shut up! You big-mouthed idiot!»

The girls caught the fierce glare and exchanged a look. «These guys are way more interesting than those farmers,» they both thought, sharing a moment of silent agreement.