If it came to that, they had to be ready. Under Charlotte’s tutelage, the surviving apprentice priests were undergoing intense training. Even among the City Guard, there was no shortage of men who had sworn revenge against the demons and trained themselves to the bone in pursuit of greater heights—to awaken new talent as Swordmasters.
Seeing the determination those around him carried as he went through his daily training, Tafman couldn’t bring himself to give up on his own leadership training either. If they just surrendered and did as they were told, they’d be no better than slaves. And the difference between slaves and the citizens of Evaloti was enormous. In order to protect the transient peace they had here in Evaloti, they needed to fight and win a future for themselves. He needed to show that he was still fighting.
Though with his new education, and with all he had learned about the demons from the prince, he was starting to see that the reality they lived and the dream they desired were on opposite sides of a vast valley. That realization tormented him every day. All that stress was too much for a simple rank-and-file soldier like Tafman. And so twice a week, he found himself at the local pub, where he left his problems at the door in the best way he knew how.
“Welcome!”
As he opened the door to a pub facing the main street, loud voices and the heat of the crowd spilled out. The smell of spices in the air stimulated the appetite. Human waiters and waitresses raced across the floor, while a nervous-looking green-skinned humanoid stood behind the counter, scribbling industriously away in his notebook.
This restaurant was called Bistro Three, the highest class establishment here in the autonomous zone. Though it was run by a hobgoblin, the chefs were all skilled humans hired from within Evaloti. There were other restaurants and watering holes run entirely by the citizens of Evaloti, but as this one had been set up by a citizen of the demonic kingdom, it was a cut above the rest. The food was delicious and the drinks were incredible. They had high-end alcohol! Here, in Evaloti!
It was no exaggeration to say that Tafman’s salary existed to be burned at this restaurant. For the record, his salary as vice captain was effectively the same as that of the other members of the City Guard. He was only given a small additional allowance as compensation for the extra burden placed on him by his leadership training. And the whole thing disappeared in a flash, bonus and all, right into Bistro Three’s pockets.
“Oh, you again? You sure seem to like it here.” The hobgoblin owner gave a toothy grin as he noticed the entering Tafman. “Rejoice. Today, we have some alcohol in stock that’s far more high-end than even this place deserves. Granted, no one has ordered it since it’s so expensive...”
“What?! What is it?!” Tafman couldn’t help but lean forward over the counter.
The hobgoblin chuckled. “Warlito Bimi.”
Warlito Bimi was a distilled liquor produced in the eastern reaches of Deftelos. It wasn’t quite the legend that Arien Bimi was, but its mellow flavor and affordability to the common people made it an especially beloved brand.
“How much?!” Tafman gulped...and the owner raised four fingers. Tafman grunted like he had taken a punch to the gut. That was a lot. Viciously expensive even. But...!!! “Give me a glass!”
“Any food to go with it?”
“Just the usual!”
The hobgoblin bobbed his head, scratching something happily into his notebook. As a combination of excitement and defeat overwhelmed him, Tafman made his way to his favorite seat.
At first, he had been pretty prejudiced against the hobgoblin owner of the restaurant.
But despite their looks, hobgoblins might be the best the demonic kingdom has to offer...
Recently, his opinions had started to shift. The smug looks the night elves always had made you want to punch them in the face. Demons and devils were obviously out of the question. The cat beastfolk made no effort to hide their distaste for humans, and their open hostility toward the dog beastfolk was too much to bear. There weren’t that many ogres around, but Tafman wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to get near one.
That left the hobgoblins who were, for lack of a better word, pretty normal. Though they typically carried themselves with a detached and overly businesslike air, for better or for worse, they had a dryness in their attitude that well suited merchants. Plus, they could even smile, as insincere as those smiles appeared. With no critical flaws to their name, they were extremely well positioned, relatively speaking. And while the prices this particular hobgoblin charged were exorbitant, the quality of his services very much matched them. Many refused to step foot in the restaurant, loudly declaring they’d never be caught dead drinking a goblin’s swill. But those who overcame that prejudice and became regulars were all people with good taste in alcohol.
As he waited, Tafman looked around at the civilians of Evaloti happily sharing drinks. He happened to notice that right beside him, seated right in the corner of the restaurant, was an unfamiliar face.
Their small and slender frame made him think it was a woman. Despite the majority of new arrivals being women and children, there were still slightly more men than women currently in the autonomous zone. Even so, seeing a woman all by herself in an establishment such as this was quite the rare sight. She had a cup of the cheapest ale the restaurant had to offer, but it had hardly been touched. Instead, she was making her way through one of Bistro Three’s flagship dishes, one renowned for its extraordinary spiciness.
“You waiting for someone, miss?” Normally he’d leave someone like this alone, but there was almost a sense of loneliness in her demeanor, so he tried striking up a conversation.
“No,” she replied after some hesitation. “It’s just me.” Getting this attention seemed to take her by surprise, but she nevertheless responded rather calmly. Her voice was confirmation enough that she was a woman, and quite a young one at that.
“I see. You’re making quick work of that plate. I heard it’s got quite the kick.”
“I like spicy stuff. So I eat here every once in a while,” she replied, gobbling up another spoonful of mustard. Any normal person would have been chugging their drink to ward off the spiciness of that dish, but she didn’t so much as twitch. She really must have loved spicy food.
“Wow... Oh sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. The name’s Tafman. Nice to meet you,” he shook off his amazement to introduce himself properly.
“My, how polite.” The woman pulled down her hood. Her tied up flaxen hair, her refined features, made her look almost like a doll... “I’m Claire. Nice to meet you.” And she smiled, in a way that seemed almost too perfect.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire.”
She was rather cute, so he was sure she’d leave a strong impression on anyone who crossed paths with her, but Tafman had no recollection of ever meeting her. That must have meant she was one of the recent arrivals to the autonomous zone.