Chapter 66: Two Glasses of Wine

The tavern owner looked up, his face weathered, etched with patterns and white scars visible everywhere. "It's not a difficult question, but everything comes at a price," he said in a deep tone, his expression indifferent, seemingly unconcerned with the Inquisitor's identity and appearance.

Jeanne smiled, a twisted smile that Salser felt she carried with her wherever she went. She sized up the Barghast man for a moment, her fingers lightly tapping the counter, and then said in a clear voice, "A glass of red wine."

The noisy tavern erupted in jeers as local soldiers and drunkards gathered around, laughing and placing shiny Ensolari silver coins on the table as bets. Their discussions shifted from 'mocking the spineless guys who tried to hit on her but chickened out' to 'whether this beautiful lady is truly an inquisitor,' and—how her petite build would likely pass out after just a few sips, unconscious and carried back by some fortunate bloke—perhaps leading to a wonderful romantic encounter!

Before the Barghast tavern owner had even served the wine, the drunkards had already started arguing and bickering over the bets, loudly hurling insults at each other.

Beside the grill hung a tantalizing wild boar, its fat dripping onto the coals with a sizzling sound. The cook, bare-chested with well-defined muscles, wielded a kitchen knife to slice off a large chunk of meat and shouted loudly. He was betting that the lady claiming to be an inquisitor wouldn't be able to handle even a single glass of wine.

Several men who looked like bandits began pounding the table with their fists, causing it to wobble due to its uneven legs. They tossed a few Rabia silver coins onto the table, betting that the lady could definitely handle three glasses of wine, and perhaps even an entire bottle.

THUD!

In a blink, the lady slammed her half-empty wine glass onto the counter with force, the loud sound instantly reverberating throughout the entire tavern.

"Oi! You barbarian fraud, you uncouth lout! Get over here! What the hell is this swill, pig slop!?"

She grabbed the tavern owner's sleeveless linen tunic and glared fiercely at him with her beautiful golden eyes. With one hand, she pulled the owner's burly head towards the wine glass—

"You lowlife, look at this crap! Is this some piss-poor sour vinegar!? Can't you see the thick, nasty gunk in this bottle of vinegar!?"

A moment of silence, followed by a roar of cheers. A few charcoal workers first laughed at their boss, and then everyone else joined in the uproarious laughter. Several thunderous voices shouted, "WELL DONE! HIT HIM!"

"You broke my glass," the Barghast man said, expressionless, staring at his wine glass.

Salser reached out and pried Jeanne's hand off the tavern owner's shirt, tossing him a common Imperial gold coin.

"If available, please serve us some Imperial Fallon wine from your selection."

The Barghast man gave Salser an unexpected glance, weighed the gold coin in his hand, and without saying anything more, turned and descended into the cellar.

He returned shortly, carrying a bottle with great solemnity—unusual in appearance, with a wide and flat bottom, a slender neck, and a slightly whitened body due to its age. The bottle was made of frosted glass, faintly revealing hints of iridescent hues. A small wooden tag hung from the slender neck, bearing faded Latin letters that could be discerned as "annorum centum."

"Is it the black one?" Salser asked him.

"As black as tar," the Barghast man replied, revealing an unattractive smile that contorted the patterns on his face.

Salser slapped away Jeanne's right hand, which she couldn't restrain from reaching out, and ignored her fierce glare.

"To drink this wine, you need crystal glasses used in the summer," Salser said.

The tavern owner nodded and signaled to a young girl working there—she had long flaxen hair and a few freckles on her face. She brought over two tall crystal glasses. Her complexion was healthy, with a yellowish tinge beneath her pale skin, exuding a fresh, rustic scent, clearly indicating she was not a native of this city.

"And we also need some pure snow, my friend," the Barghast man said. "Vina, fetch us some pure snow from the ice cellar, taken from Edlos Mountain."

After the girl returned, the tavern owner sighed with a hint of sentimentality. He kissed the neck of the bottle and then passed it over—handing it to the dark wizard.

"It should have been me who opened it, but I think it would be more fitting for you to do it."

Salser didn't say much, simply carefully removed the wax seal and opened the bottle. He placed some snow into the crystal glasses and then poured the aromatic, thick black wine into the glasses layered with snow. Jeanne observed as the snow immediately melted upon contact with the wine, and the crystal walls of the glasses became cloudy, exuding cold, tiny droplets of water.

The jeering drunkards behind her fell into an eerie silence, staring intently without a word. They had forgotten their bets, and all eyes converged on this spectacle.

Salser once again slapped away Jeanne's right hand, which she couldn't restrain from reaching out.

"You wait a moment for me," he said.

Jeanne wore a disgruntled expression.

Salser glanced around the owner's counter. He took down a small bottle carved from a single piece of agate from the wooden shelf.

"Can I?" he asked the Barghast tavern owner.

"Please feel free to use it, my friend."

He removed the cork and carefully added a drop of cinnamon essence to the wine. The drop fell into the black liquid like a milky white pearl. The pearl dissolved, and a strange, sweet fragrance filled the tavern. 

Salser picked up the wine glass, tapped it with his knuckles, and then handed it to Jeanne, whose eyes were wide with anticipation.

The same wide-eyed anticipation was shared by the group of drinkers behind them.

"Would you mind pouring me a bit as well, boss?"

"Just one glass each," the owner said, "and you can call me Gahar."

Jeanne savored the wine slowly, making a purring sound with her tongue in her mouth, reminiscent of a cat.

"What's the point of Mariwahija wine, Bras wine, Ikaly wine, or Rafa wine—they're all worthless compared to this!" At this moment, she truly resembled a drunk middle-aged man.

Jeanne reluctantly set down the wine glass and then snatched away the other glass of Fallon wine that Salser had just poured—he hadn't even had a chance to take a sip—and turned around to gulp it down directly.

"You should reconsider your morals."

"Good stuffs should be offered to your boss," Jeanne said naturally. 

"Well said! Offer it to the boss!"

The drunkards burst into laughter together. Numerous silver coins were thrown up to the ceiling, then clattered and bounced wildly on the wooden floor. Empty glasses pounded on the tables with a thunderous sound, and a dozen feet stomped on the floor simultaneously. The cacophony of cheers filled the tavern for a moment, with many hoarse voices shouting in unison, "LET'S CHEER FOR THIS LADY!"

"Fatalon, bring us the roasted pork you've prepared!"

Salser shook his head, while Jeanne was still savoring the second glass of wine—the one he had intended to drink. "Where is Caren Hortensia?" he asked.

Gahar slowly took back his wine bottle, signaling Vina to return it to the cellar, and then said, "Francis Academy."

"What? What would a nun be doing at a mage school?" Salser exclaimed in astonishment.

"Because of that demon-releasing incident, the Cast City Council gave her two choices: either go to jail or teach demonology and be the school nurse at Francis Academy," Gahar explained. "With it being registration time at the school, she's not going back to the church anytime soon."

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