Chapter 325: The Dwarven Tavern

The town of Gien within the Earldom of Glamorgan is different from other Bretonnian cities; it's more prosperous and orderly than typical human cities. Merchants with their carts come and go, and the streets are lined with shops overflowing with sacks of grain, spices, sugar, and cloth. This town doesn't reek like other Bretonnian cities and is relatively cleaner. Many errant knights come to this town looking for opportunities, drawn by the fame of Ryan Macado, the Lady of the Lake's chosen champion.

At the town entrance, the family crest of Ryan hangs above the gate. The local residents bustle about, and nearby, vast fields are planted with wheat and various other crops. The number of freemen is increasing, and armed patrols frequently pass along the town walls and streets. These soldiers, wearing chainmail and armed with swords, shields, and hand crossbows, exude an aura of experienced warriors. Occasionally, knights accompanied by soldiers patrol the area. Having just returned from a victorious campaign, everyone in Earl Ryan's troops has acquired their share of spoils.

Raymond is also part of a patrol team. After signing up and undergoing extensive training, he was finally admitted to the Halberdier Corps. It's said that he only made it into the corps because it had suffered losses at the Battle of Lyonaisse Plains and needed to recruit thirty new members. Raymond made it just in time.

Joining the Halberdier Corps and becoming a soldier under the Earl pays well, with wages nearly reaching a gold krona per month. Raymond also earns extra money by working part-time in shops and workshops. The diet is decent, with regular meals twice a day and meat every three days, sometimes roast and sometimes stew.

As the group patrols the streets, Raymond, wielding his well-crafted halberd—a testament to dwarven craftsmanship—has grown strong enough to manage its weight after extensive training. According to the knightly lords, he still has a long way to go before becoming a qualified recruit.

"Back then, those terrifying barbarians charged at us like a black river. Their faces covered in pustules, clad in heavy armor, many cursed barbarians even had horns or extra heads... I saw young Ricardo piss himself, embarrassing!" During a break in the patrol, one of the halberdiers boasted about his experiences in the Battle of Lyonaisse.

He was promoted to sergeant and awarded five gold krona by Ryan for killing a Chaos champion in the battle, a complete turnaround from his previous life as a desperate runaway slave. Now not only a sergeant, he had married a tailor's daughter, truly a success story among serfs.

"Was it really that frightening?" Raymond and a few new recruits listened intently to the veteran's tale, feeling a mix of awe and fear: "Didn't you think of running away?"

"Run? Why would we run?" the sergeant boasted proudly. "Our Lord Earl was right near us, with over a hundred knights fighting alongside us in our ranks. We had no intention of fleeing. We stood our ground in the face of the barbarian onslaught and protected the Earl!"

"Come off it, you were just scared of being hanged for desertion," another veteran interjected, his face marked by a scar from a barbarian weapon, looking quite fearsome: "We only held out for a few minutes before the knights came to support us from the flanks."

"Is that so?"

"I tell you, those barbarians were fierce. One of them could take on five or ten of us. If it wasn't for the knight lords keeping our formations tight, we might have been overrun on the first wave," another old soldier said. "Also, the dwarven artillery was impressive. Those quad cannons mounted on iron carts decimated hundreds of barbarians with each volley!"

Regardless, having stood against a barbarian charge for even a few minutes without breaking was enough to earn these veterans bragging rights.

Continuing their patrol, the group turned a street corner where an old-fashioned dwarven tavern stood at the end of the street.

The exterior of the Dwarven Tavern was adorned with a statue of a dwarven ancestor and a large beer mug. The tavern was large, about five or six meters high, and built of stone, making it a landmark building in the town and a paradise for dwarves. Inside, dwarves sold malt beer brewed by themselves, as well as top-quality malt beer imported from other dwarven kingdoms. The Hinon River along the riverbanks now had numerous workshops and factories operating full tilt, with orders backed up until the next year.

The patrol noticed a sign at the tavern's entrance stating, "No pointy ears,

 cats, dogs, or pigs allowed inside. Human friends welcome (no pants, no service)."

"It's the Longbeard Tavern! Wow, I'd love to go inside." A recruit expressed envy. "What's a dwarven tavern like?"

"It's not much different, really. Just fancier decor, bigger and nicer tables, chairs, and utensils, and lots of different kinds of drinks," the newly promoted sergeant said proudly. "I was there last time, just sat for a bit, had two pints of Bagman beer, and it cost me fifty silver coins!"

"Bagman beer!" Several veterans salivated at the mention. This top-quality dark beer, produced by the dwarf Bagman family from the Black Mountains, was renowned throughout the Old World. A single pint of Bagman beer could substitute for several black bread loaves and immunize against fear for ten hours. Rich and refreshing, it was a sought-after luxury for these serfs.

After returning from the campaign, Ryan was pleased that his Halberdier Corps had held against the fierce Chaos warriors for a few minutes without breaking. He rewarded the surviving halberdiers with a pint of Bagman beer each, a taste they savored for days. Unfortunately, this beer was expensive, costing several gold krona per barrel, translating to about twenty to thirty silver coins per pint, with prices fluctuating. The serfs clearly couldn't afford it regularly.

Outside the tavern, several dwarves, likely just off work from the workshops, chattered non-stop, planning to have a drink after work.

The dwarves were also boasting, "Those barbarian bastards were about to charge, and those new halberdiers trained by Earl Ryan were so scared they pissed themselves. It was us mighty dwarves who held the line, letting those barbarians taste a round of our cannons and muskets. We even blasted a mammoth's head off with one shot. If it weren't for us, Earl Ryan might not have won."

"That's right, dwarves are the best!"

The dwarves continued their banter as they pushed open the doors of the tavern. Inside, they paused for a moment.

Inside the tavern, neat wooden tables and chairs and a large bar stocked with various beer barrels filled the space. About a dozen dwarves were enjoying malt beer and dark beer, complaining about the poor quality of Bretonnian ale. The tavern was well-lit by many candles and specially made dwarven oil lamps, which were popular in noble households due to their excellent illumination, low smoke, and bright flame.

What caught the dwarves off guard was the corner of the tavern, where Earl Ryan and his brother Anglon were enjoying Bagman beer, with dwarven rune craftsman Delron Feinsen and dwarven engineer Dugan Ironhand sitting across from them, focusing on some blueprints.

Ryan's maid, Emilia, also sat next to Ryan, clearly uncomfortable in this setting, carefully clinging to his arm and leaning against him, curiously observing the tavern's interior.

"Lord Ryan, Mister Anglon, Miss Emilia, would you like more beer? I'll fill you up!" the dwarven bartender, belly shaking, reached for Ryan's glass.

"Please, and thank you," Ryan and Anglon nodded. The bartender, stroking his white beard, added, "No, Lord Ryan, it's us who should thank you. We've found a new home here, all thanks to your help."

After that, the bartender poured two pints of Bagman beer and placed them in front of Ryan, along with a plate of roast lamb. "On the house, Lord Ryan. May your beard grow long and handsome! Ha ha~ And may mine stay long and smooth."

"Thank you!" Ryan accepted the beer. "Brother! Cheers!"

"Cheers~" Anglon, in high spirits, gulped down a meat pie and a pint of dark beer, then eagerly turned to the rune craftsman Delron. "How about it, Mister Delron? Can it be done?"

Rune craftsman Delron Feinsen was still studying the blueprints. Shock was evident on his face. "I don't even know what to say... The axe you want made is really something. I'm not sure I can do it, Mister Anglon."

"We have plenty of materials, Mister Delron. I really need a handy weapon, and so does Ryan!" Anglon's voice was full of anticipation.

"I understand, I understand. I've made vibranium weapons before," Delron continued, still eyeing the blueprints, which included one for Anglon's own design, a dual-wielding axe—Meat Cleaver, and another that Ryan had obtained from the emperor, a long-handled warhammer—Thor's Hammer. The long-bearded dwarf added, "But what you're asking for isn't just a vibranium weapon. You also want enchantments for energy absorption and energy cutting.

 That's tricky."

"Can you do it?" Anglon still sounded hopeful.

"If it's just a plain vibranium weapon, of course, I can make it. But this blueprint, I can't guarantee it'll come out as you want. However, I know someone who can," Delron finally shook his head to Anglon's disappointment. "Because if it's made to your specifications, it will surely rival the Emperor's warhammer, 'Ghal Maraz.'"

"Who is it?"

Updated! Second update today! Votes, please!

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT