Chapter 12. The Precarious Guarantor
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"Meliodas, you're truly a mysterious boy... no, not quite a boy, but not exactly an adult either."
In the bustling tavern, the Kingdom's Holy Knight Commander was heavily drunk, sprawled across the table, loudly grumbling. Only when he was drinking could Zaratras complain about his job like an ordinary man. Once sober, he would again become the reliable Holy Knight Commander everyone depended on.
"Speaking of which, why is your face red? It's rare for you, someone who doesn't get drunk, to blush from drinking."
Cyd glanced at the oversized barrel of ale, which was several times larger than Meliodas. No matter how much he drank, it seemed Meliodas could still get drunk—yet it was Cyd who had to foot the bill.
"Well, it's been three thousand years... I'm just overjoyed, that's why I'm drunk." Meliodas looked intoxicated, his face flushed, and his eyes dazed. "I've waited three thousand years to break the curse."
"Three thousand years!? That's impossible! Even the Fairy Clan or the Giant Clan, even the legendary Goddess Clan or the Demon Clan, can't live for three thousand years."
Zaratras, demonstrating poor drinking etiquette, tousled Meliodas's hair as if praising a child. "If that's true, Meliodas, you're truly incredible. If it were me, I would've committed suicide long ago."
"I tried~ but the curse won't let me." Meliodas's voice was light, as if joking, and Zaratras took it as one.
"I don't see [her] tonight." Cyd leaned against the window, gazing at the sky. Perhaps due to the incoming storm, the moon was barely visible.
"What are you looking at~?" Meliodas wobbled over to the window. For Cyd, the windowsill was at a perfect height, but for Meliodas, it was a bit too tall. He had to stand on tiptoe to rest his chin on the ledge.
"Just musing... A long life lets you wait forever, but those waiting for you can't wait that long."
"Huh~ maybe we're really the same kind of people." Meliodas let out a soft breath and handed his wine cup to Cyd. "Living long has its perks. Bad things keep happening, but the good ones you're waiting for will eventually come."
"True enough." Cyd shrugged and downed his drink in one gulp, then sighed. "But bad things always come first."
"Yeah, the storm is coming."
"You're not referring to it in terms of your age, are you?"
"That's right." Meliodas nodded seriously, gesturing with his thumb and index finger. "Maybe... in about twenty years?"
"Please let it happen while Bartra is still in power, okay? Visions can help us gain a lot of support."
"It won't help. Our enemies... might not be the kind that visions can easily deal with." Meliodas grabbed another barrel of ale to sit on, tipping his empty glass behind him.
Cyd didn't even care anymore how much tonight's drinking spree was going to cost. If he and Zaratras weren't Holy Knights, the tavern owner would have already called the guards to arrest them.
"You're talking about the Ten Commandments, right?"
Cyd pulled up a chair and sat across from Meliodas. In the past three years, he had learned a lot about the ancient Holy War from the Kingdom's secret archives, especially about the powerful Demon Clan and the Goddess Clan. The most fearsome were the Demon Clan's Ten Commandments and the Goddess Clan's Four Archangels—both groups were monsters capable of changing the tide of battle.
And the little drunkard sitting in front of him was the leader of the Ten Commandments, once known as the most terrifying Demon, or so Meliodas had said. He wasn't lying.
"I hope not, because the key to releasing them is with me." Meliodas touched the dragon-shaped hilt on his back, his dazed eyes suddenly becoming razor-sharp. "I won't give it to anyone."
"Yet not long ago, you gave it to a blacksmith to attach a broken sword blade."
"That was... an accident! Yeah, couldn't be helped." Meliodas awkwardly scratched the back of his head, trying to play it off.
"Yesterday, I saw you give it to Lady Elizabeth as a toy. How could you let a three-year-old play with something so dangerous?"
"Sorry, my bad, I won't do it again."
Meliodas quickly apologized in a series of earnest confessions, which worked like a charm, and Cyd decided to drop the matter.
"By the way, that woman named Merlin..."
"Ah~ she's trustworthy. That's all I can say right now." Meliodas patted his chest with confidence.
"No, I was just curious why she's called the Sin of Gluttony. Is it because she eats a lot?"
Cyd had been wondering about this for a while. After the formation of the group known as the "Seven Deadly Sins", Merlin had insisted on that title. Though Merlin had a figure that didn't suggest any issues with overeating, didn't women generally dislike being called gluttons?
"I'm not sure, maybe she just likes roast pig." Meliodas pointed to the Wrathful Dragon tattoo on his shoulder. According to Bartra, all members of the "Seven Deadly Sins" needed a tattoo representing their respective sins.
"This is the symbol of your atonement!"
Bartra had said that, but Cyd suspected he might just have been caught up in some sort of grandiose fantasy, thinking it was cool.
"You can't just assume she likes roast pig because her symbol is a red pig. Maybe she's just filling the numbers."
"It's rather impolite for two grown men to gossip about a woman behind her back. Be careful, or you'll end up lonely for life."
Using teleportation magic to appear anywhere she pleased, Merlin suddenly materialized behind Cyd and Meliodas. By now, the tavern had only the three of them left, along with the passed-out Zaratras.
"Mm~ the owner of this tavern is quite nice, not throwing us out even this late."
"Of course not! I booked the entire tavern in the name of the Pure White Hero!" Meliodas raised his glass proudly, as if he were the one who paid for it.
"Pfft—" Cyd spat out his drink, coughing violently. His face twitched as he asked, "Then what about all those other patrons?"
"A tavern should be lively! Depriving others of the right to drink is a crime, so I treated everyone!"
"But I'm the one paying the bill!"
"That's okay, you're my guarantor!" Meliodas smiled innocently, twisting the knife a little deeper into Cyd's already fragile heart.
"You're three thousand years old and still need a guardian?! Take responsibility for your actions, you bastard!"
"If Lord Cyd can't afford this massive bill, I wouldn't mind paying it." Merlin, producing a massive money pouch from who-knows-where, set it on the table and leaned in predatorily. "But in exchange, let me study you."
And thus began the first step of the "Seven Deadly Sins"—one person drained the guarantor's wallet, and another wanted to put him on the research table.
The worst possible first step.