He gave it his best, he really did. If I had stayed human, I wouldn’t have made it past the second mug. However, quickly turning my insides to that of an elemental reset my tolerance after every mug, every sip if I wanted. He didn’t have a chance from the start. Howie doesn’t seem too upset about it. If anything, he seems quite pleased.

Once we got past the fifth round, he got into it, watching intently as he put stronger drinks in front of us. While we drank, he complained about people avoiding his bar because he used toxic ingredients and they couldn’t appreciate his art. I completely agree. The man’s a genius, even if I worry for the safety of anyone drinking here without quick access to a healer.

Any tension between him and my group is gone as we thoroughly enjoy his work. It takes four cups of Devil’s Brine, one of his strongest, non-lethal liquors, but Kierra’s finally starting to feel the effects, a heavy flush covering her face. She’s a loud drunk, which surprises no one. At least she isn’t breaking things for the hell of it, something I really worried about.

Geneva and Bell haven’t been drinking as consistently so they’re fine. Rather, they have been sharing the crunchy bread served in large baskets along with the drinks, sticks of warm bread that have a golden, crunchy outer layer and a soft center. There were two kinds. One sprinkled with salt, the other glazed with some kind of honey mixture. They enjoy them so much I ask for a few baskets to go, which sit on the bar.

One person does lose to Howie’s drinks. That is the crying merchant seated on my other side, having traded places with Geneva earlier in the evening.

“Hey, are you listening Lou?” she asks, leaning heavily against my shoulder. Her face is flushed, the mug in her hand hanging in weak fingers, threatening to fall any moment. Her eyes are glassy and wet.

“I’m listening.” I’ve been indulging her. After all, this is kind of my fault. I’m the one who egged her on, knowing she could hardly refuse as she still felt the need to make up for the assassin earlier. How was I supposed to know she’d be such a weakling? Howie never switched her off the Herbernacle and she only had three mugs. That were watered down. Sad.

I snatch the mug out of her hands as it tips precariously, setting it on the bar. “What’s the matter?”

“You got to believe me. I don’t know how tha, *hic*, man got into the hotel. The Golden Feathers has the best security. He couldn’t have snuck in.”

“So, there’s a traitor among your staff.”

“Th,*hic*, that!” She points at me but the finger is too close, almost jabbing me in the eye. I grab it and lower her hand. “That’s it. There’s a spy in the staff. And now I have to find them but no one really respects me, only humoring me because of my father.” She hangs her head like a kicked puppy. “I might not be able to find them. Then Father will send one of my siblings.”

“Guessing that’s bad?”

“It’s terrible! They’ll try to take over negotiations with you. Father originally wanted one of my older sisters to interact with you and Miss Kierra but took a chance because of our age…” Words pour out of her, the speed combined with her compromised motor skills making her impossible to understand.

I reach out, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Howie, water over here.” The barkeep looks up from his conversation with my wife, taking in Maxine’s condition. With a scoff, he fills a cup with water and slides it to me. I hand it to the merchant, helping her drink it. Why bother? Well, she took my little prank with good humor. I’d feel bad leaving her be. Also, she’s saying some rather important things. “What were you trying to say?” I ask once she sets the mug down.

“…what was I saying?”

I sigh. “Your older sister—”

“Why do you care about my older sister!?” she practically shrieks. “She’s not as good as everyone thinks. That stupid smile of hers is fake. You can’t do business with her, Lou!”

“I didn’t say anything about doing business with her. You’re the one who mentioned her.”

“…I did?”

“Yeah. You were the one telling me that your father wanted to replace you—”

“That stupid old man of mine!” she bursts out, teeth grit in anger. “One little mistake! It’s not, *hic*, fair. Even the cleanest hotel lets a rat in once in a while but he’s going to use this assassin thing to get rid of me!”

“Assassin?” Howie askes, raising his head but I wave for him to be quiet so he doesn’t interrupt.

“She’s not even a good merchant. Only products she knows are her textiles, the human dovebird. Don’t know why she hoards our company’s best spools, since she barely wears clothes. Let me tell *hic* you, Lou. Everyone says that the Guiness family appreciates gold the most, but that’s not it. It’s, *hic*, beauty. Father wants to be surrounded by beautiful things and only beautiful things. That just happens to take wealth.”

Maxine slams back the contents of her mug. She does realize that’s water, right? “I mean, just look at him! The man is nearly a century old and he has better skin than me! Don’t let that pretty face fool you, he’s a complete asshole. Did you know that he has disowned several children because they were too ugly?”

“No way,” I say with a laugh, leaning forward. This is hilarious.

She nods enthusiastically. “I’m not *hic* joking. One time, during one of the rare moments Father is home to eat with us, my brother tried to impress him with some new fashion from the capital. Father thought it was ugly. He banished my brother from the house the rest of the night and took away all the textile shops under his control, handing them to my sister. I swear, she has her position in the company because she has his same extreme aesthetic sense. And she might as well be a succubus for all the clients she’s slept with.”

“Whoa.” Reflexively, I look around the bar but it’s still as empty as it was when we came in. “You sure you should be saying that?” You don’t want to mess with a noble’s reputation. Might as well kill them as they’ll never forgive you.

One of the worst things to say about a noblewoman is that she ‘gets around’ and Maxine might as well have called her sister a whore out loud for anyone to hear. People die for less, much less.

“*Hic*, it’s nothing important. The whole capital knows how loose she is.” Ooh, and there’s the second blow.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to claim that as an insult.” From the corner of my eye, I see Geneva come to stand between us. She flashes me a wide grin, her tail whipping in amusement. “I heard an amusing conversation. This sister of yours sounds quite competent.”

Maxine eyes her and scoffs. Huh, seems the drink makes her both whiny and brave. “You’d say that. You’re just like her! Using your body to seal the deal. No, you’re better because you don’t pretend to be a merchant. She makes a mockery of the trade.”

“Really? I think she is quite good at what she does. You have to cater to your business partner and promise them all kinds of profits to secure a deal. From the sounds of it, she just needs one night to charm them. If you were both working for me, I’d promote her more as well. After all, such a strategy is incredibly effective. Take Lou for example.”

Hey, hold on. Don’t involve me in this! It’s too late for me to complain though as my elemental latches onto one of my arms. “You’ve tried bribing her with everything from gems to your very soul to secure her cooperation when she cares very little for material things. An approach like your sister’s would have worked far better.”

“Huh?”

“Look at her wife. Look at her contracted elemental. A merchant should be able to read people, to understand their desires. In that regard, your sister seems to have you outmatched.”

“You, you…” Maxine seems quite angry but her addled mind can’t make a good comeback. She turns to me and her anger fades away for a more calculating look. Whoa now, don’t get any ideas here.

I wave for Howie to refill her water, quickly stuffing it into her hands. “Drink this and don’t do anything you’ll regret when you’re sober.”

She takes the mug, murmuring over the edge. I don’t like the look in her eyes at all. Stupid Geneva. Why did you have to say something like that? I don’t need a Guiness princess making moves on me. There are too many ways that can go wrong.

I am not exaggerating when I call her princess. Her father may not wear a crown, but they have enough influence and capital to move the country. Sounds like a king to me. That’s one of Marquis Guiness’ titles amongst the commoners even, the ‘king of gold’. And she knows how much I hate dealing with royalty. Of any kind.

Thankfully, the door opens, providing a welcome distraction. Four men wearing armor step through, the one in the lead wearing a tight frown. Oh, that’s not just any kind of armor either. Those are artifacts. Very pricey and, for something of that quality, very expensive. Almost exclusively sold to successful manabeast hunters and nobles. Quite the customers have walked in.