Chapter 106

Like a…Goat

Cowbell roots. How curious. He must have the mind to brew Mist Hidden attribute beers. A rare ingredient for a particular beer. But why? It’s not something he could use in whatever city, or town, or village he lives in. Unless he’s built his own city and it’s for protection. Not unheard of, but that sort of thing is usually orchestrated by diamond ranked adventurers.

Either that, or he’s a vagabond. But there are better, easier attribute beers to brew when you’re trying to hide while traveling.

I was very much in my head this morning. What a mystery this quest had become. A mystery nearing its end because I felt so close to finding Hawkin.

There was a bounce in my step as I reached for the door to the Weeping Wisp Inn on Link road. It was quite early, but I planned to get a good breakfast, ask around for Horace, and organize my inventory until I talked to the man.

By late afternoon, the jolly bartender pointed out Horace as soon as the man barged in with a holler. I ran to him, inviting him down for a drink, hoping he would be a pleasant man to talk with.

He wasn’t.

“Pay for my beer?” Horace said, feigning shock. “An outrage! I shall pay for yours, sweet lady!”

That was only the start of things. We had different agendas. He wanted to flirt the rest of the time and thought his constant smile was winning when it just made him cocky. His winks were the worst. And just when I thought he was listening and we were getting somewhere, he said, “Tell me, Abigail. Did it hurt?”

“Oh my god,” I muttered and sank my head in my hands.

“When you fell from the heavens,” he said.

I massaged my temples. The bartender choked from across the bar. Someone winced in the background. Even the wood of the bar groaned. I gathered a deep breath.

“Listen, Horace. Can we please just talk about the man you went up against? I heard a man drank you into a stupor and gave you a beer that took you to another world. Is that true?”

The man’s mood soured.

“Oh fine,” he said. “Fine, fine, fine. What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know what happened to you. Is it true you met a man named Thrush? He gave you something to drink that brought you to another part of the world? A meadow?”

“You know what?” Horace said. “I’ve had enough of people taking advantage of me. If you want something from me, you’re going to have to pay for it.”

I cursed, then said, “What do you want? A silver? Two silver?”

He smiled mischievously. “You’ll have to out-drink me!”

“Deal,” I said, slamming a hand on the bar. “Bartender!”

“R-really?” Horace said, bemused.

“Just give me a moment to warm-up,” I said.

I whipped out 3 bottles of Drunk Defiance attribute beers. Pulled the corks. Chugged.

“Whoa now, girly,” Horace said. “You’re either stupid or over-confident.”

Horace’s gaze moved to meet the approaching bartender’s.

“Another game, Horace?” the bartender said dryly.

“Fetch us ten rounds of tavern ales,” Horace said with a sweep of an arm. He then stood and said, “gather round everyone! This fiery little woman thinks she can out-drink me!”

The patrons cheered Horace on as the bartender brought us the first few rounds and we drank. By the 10th round, I felt no effect. By the 15th round, it felt like I’d had only 1 beer. By the 31st beer, Horace was confused and had drastically slowed his pace.

“Im-n-possible,” he slurred. “This not-mn my lucky month. First the Thrush man. Now a pretty lady. Am I a-losing it? Losing-mn my touch?”

“Horace,” I said over the din of cheering patrons. “Can we please talk now? I’d say I’ve beaten you.”

His eyes showed the wound of an insult and he turned them on me.

“This isn’t mn-over!”

I chugged a tankard of beer. Slammed it on the table. Horace and I looked at each other and his hand quested for another tankard. I wasted no time and slammed another one. We looked at each other again. I slammed a third.

He looked past me with a faraway gaze.

Then, at last, “mk,” he said. “You-z winz. I’ve am defeated.”

“Horace,” I said, trying to guide his focus. “Can we please talk?”

The crowd went into an outrage before dispersing. Horace slumped against the bar. Spirit sunk.

“Horace,” I said. “Please. Are the rumors true? Did a man named Thrush give you a portal attribute beer?”

Horace looked at me and took the time to calibrate his focus.

“Beautiful hair,” he said, and reached.

I slapped his hand away.

“Horace,” I said and repeated the question.

He seemed to be looking for the answer in his mind like it was a gold carrot dangling just out of reach.

“I remember,” he said. “Lost fair-mn-square. Thrush gave me a message and a bottle of beer. Told me to say hello and to ask for mana beers.”

“Say hello to who?” I said. “To Hawkin? Did you meet Hawkin?”

“Hawkin,” he said. “Yea. That was the name. I had to fight a goblin—you know. A mean-faced goblin!”

“Goblins?” I said. “Hawkin is a goblin?”

Horace’s eyes wandered, seeing things in his mind’s eye instead. He burped and looked at me.

“Your hair is so…fluffy. Like a…goat.” He reached and I swatted his hand away.

“Horace,” I said. “Please.” Once again, I repeated myself. It took a moment for Horace to respond.

“Yep. Met Hawkin. Nice guy. Took me to the m-river. gave me a beer to take back. A bunch of mana beers for Thrush too-m.”

Horace reached for me once more. I slapped his hand away again.

“Do you know where you were?”

“A meadow. Beautiful meadow.”

“Was there a city nearby? A town? Did you recognize the place?”

“Hawkin said it was-m a plane-m. E-mthereally plane.” Horace paused, then continued between a fit of hiccups. “I sure miss ma goat. Matilda…she was a-m good goat.”

Horace was quickly fading, struggling to keep his eyes ajar.

I figured I didn’t have much time left with him, so I pressed on for more information about Thrush. All I received from him was absolute nonsense about a goat. Then he was out.

I spoke with the bartender and made sure Horace would be taken care of. Helped him out with the bill and then gathered my things. I left the stink of the inn behind me and I followed Link Road out of Omes Arbor, shaking my head.