Chapter 94: Chapter 93 - To the Black Hounds!

The road back to Lupos felt shorter than the road toward the dungeon, probably because everyone was relaxed and merrily chatting among themselves.

Once the Black Hounds reached the eastern gate, they looked like survivors crawling out of a battlefield, with their torn clothes and dried blood.

The guards at the gate straightened the moment they saw them.

One of them lowered his spear and spoke.

"Halt! Identify yourselves."

Derrick lifted his head weakly from the wagon.

"Your mother."

The guard blinked, shocked.

Garren stepped forward quickly before the situation got worse.

"We were part of the dungeon expedition sent out this morning," he said, his voice tired but steady. "It failed."

The guard’s expression changed at once.

He looked past Garren toward the wagon and the lack of people. Those who did return all appeared to be wounded as well, and more than half of the cargo from the morning was gone too.

"What happened?"

Milo spat to the side, then wiped dust from his mouth.

"A fucking dragon."

The guard stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"You know, a giant lizard that usually spits out fire... only this one crushed us with earth," Pete repeated helpfully. "Big one. Angry and very unfriendly."

The guard looked between them, clearly unsure whether this was some drunken joke.

Wallace sighed and stepped forward. Of all of them, he looked the least like a criminal, which helped.

"The dungeon was far beyond the report. The expedition broke apart inside. The commander, Cassian Fyr, is dead. Most of his knights are dead. The city guards who stayed at the camp were killed as well."

The guard’s face hardened.

"Killed by what?" 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

For a moment, no one answered.

Then Garren said, "The dungeon was overrun when the dragon’s attack reached the upper levels. We barely escaped with our lives. If it weren’t for the horses, we’d be dead too..."

The guard narrowed his eyes. "And you survived?"

Derrick raised one hand from the wagon. "Because we’re better than the shitty knights."

Vera slapped him on the back of the head. "Because our pride and loot didn’t stop us from running."

"That too," Derrick muttered, caressing his head.

The guard ignored him and turned toward Wallace again.

"You understand I have to report this further up. House Renwick had men in that expedition. So did the city. If their commander is dead, the nobles involved will want answers."

Wallace nodded.

"Then give them this answer. The dungeon had an earth dragon inside. Everyone who stayed died. And anyone who wants more details can go ask the dragon himself."

Pete raised his flask slightly. "I recommend knocking first. He’s very irritable, that fella."

The guard gave him a flat look, and after mulling it over for a few seconds, he said,

"Go. But this will be reported. When the nobles call for witnesses, you’ll be summoned, so don’t leave the city."

Derrick gave a weak thumbs-up.

"Tell them I fought the dragon head-on."

The guard shook his head.

The horses pulled the wagon forward, and Wallace laughed at Derrick.

"More like got slapped unconscious by it."

"Sure, talk more if you want to get beaten up later."

The guards let them pass.

The Black Hounds entered Lupos battered, bloody, and carrying enough hidden loot to make the pain almost worthwhile.

—

Falcon and Teclos reached the gate nearly an hour later.

They had tidied themselves up as best they could, mending their clothes enough to look somewhat presentable.

The same guards stopped them.

"Halt! Where did you two come from?"

Falcon acted confused, as if he didn’t understand why the guard was asking them this. "Huh? Why does that matter?"

The guard looked him over. "Just answer the question."

"We were clearing the northern forest of pests, if you must know."

Teclos coughed into his fist to hide a smile.

The guard looked skeptical.

"Without bringing any loot back?"

Falcon exhaled slowly, as if even speaking was too much work.

"Haaah," he sighed. "Kid, take it out. They are suddenly way more nosy than usual."

Teclos rolled his eyes and scowled, as if the guard had offended him. Then he summoned his dark dimension and took out the hide of a dire wolf.

"Here. Can we go inside now?"

The guard looked between them for a moment, then stepped aside.

"You can go..."

Falcon nodded and walked past him.

Teclos followed.

Only once they were deeper into the city did Falcon mutter, "That went better than expected."

Teclos kept his voice low and smiled. "Great acting skills, good sir."

"It got us through."

That was true.

The streets were dim by then, lanterns glowing along the corners and taverns slowly filling with noise.

By the time they reached the Broken Crown, the noise inside could already be heard from the street.

Singing.

Laughter.

The heavy slam of mugs against wooden tables.

Falcon stopped outside the door and sighed.

"Looks like there won’t be any rest for us today."

Teclos pushed the door open, and the pub exploded with cheering and shouting once they saw them.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

Someone shouted from a table. Several people raised their mugs. Several men banged their fists against the wood until the whole place shook.

The Broken Crown was a drunken storm.

Mercenaries sang off-key near the counter. A group in the corner gambled over a pile of coins, knives, and what looked like some sort of key. Marek moved behind the bar with the tired expression of a man who had given up on controlling these damn lunatics. Kira stood near the back with folded arms, looking like she would rather be anywhere else.

And in the middle of it all sat Zamas.

The fat blob himself lounged in his chair with a cup in one hand, cheeks red from ale and eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

The moment he saw them, he spread his arms wide.

"My boys!"

Falcon grimaced. "I already hate this night..."

"Come here, come here!" Zamas beckoned them closer. "The heroes of the night finally arrive!"

Teclos and Falcon walked forward through the crowd.

Hands clapped Teclos on the back from every side.

"Good work, kid!"

"Damn nightmare!"

"Heard you cleaned out a whole camp!"

"Someone give him ale!"

Before Teclos could refuse, a mug was shoved into his hand.

Then another.

Then someone wrapped an arm around his shoulders and nearly spilled half a drink down his chest.

Falcon was treated slightly more carefully because of his wound, though not by much. Vera glared at anyone who got too close to him, which helped.

Zamas raised his cup.

"I heard everything from the others," he said, his voice carrying through the room. "House Renwick tried to rob me. Tried to use my people as bait. Tried to walk away with a dragon egg and leave my men buried in a dungeon."

The pub quieted slightly.

Zamas smiled.

"And what happened instead?"

Derrick, from somewhere near the counter, lifted his mug.

"Pretty boy got stomped!"

The room erupted.

Laughter shook the walls.

Zamas laughed so hard his belly bounced.

"Exactly! Renwick lost his precious knight, his guards, his supplies, and his reputation. And my Hounds came back alive with their pockets full."

He turned his gaze toward Teclos and Falcon.

"And you two..." His smile sharpened. "You two made sure no one at that camp brought word back before us."

Teclos and Falcon lifted their cups slightly.

Zamas also raised his drink high and toasted.

"To the Black Hounds!"

The whole pub roared back.

"To the Black Hounds!"

Ale splashed across tables. Cups clanked. Someone started singing again, even louder and worse than before.

Teclos barely had time to drink before Derrick appeared behind him like a drunk mountain.

"There he is!"

Teclos was too late to react.

Derrick hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him away from Falcon.

"Come here, you slippery little demon. You’re drinking with me."

"Oh no... not again..."

"Do I hear complaining?"

"...No."

"All right then!"

Derrick shoved another mug into his hand.

Teclos tried to protest, but Derrick had already raised his own cup.

"To Teclos!"

A few mercenaries nearby cheered.

Teclos blinked.

Derrick downed the ale and looked at him.

"This man right here! Saved us, killed all witnesses, and brought back all the loot in his spooky little black hole."

Teclos stared at him for a second and gave up on escaping. He smiled and started laughing with them.

’If you can’t beat them, join them.’

"To a job well done," he said.

That earned another round of cheering.

The ale was cheap, bitter, and strong. And with it, the night promised to be long.

No one looked at him like a poor slum kid here.

No one looked at him like a monster.

Or maybe they did.

But here, that was a compliment.

Someone slapped his back again. Someone else shoved roasted meat into his hand. Pete tried to explain how he had bravely "fought the dragon and carried Derrick out from the dungeon," while Vera called him a lying drunkard. Garren and Wallace argued about what they would say as witnesses. Derrick loudly claimed he had "nearly won the brawl with the beast" until Milo calmly reminded him that he had been unconscious for most of the return trip.

The whole pub laughed.

Teclos laughed too.

Genuinely.

At some point, Derrick kidnapped him again and dragged him into another drinking circle.

"No, no, no," Teclos said, already swaying slightly. "I need to breathe."

"You can breathe after the next cup."

"I think that is how people die."

"Only weak people. Besides, your liver is young and fresh."

That made no sense, but everyone cheered like Derrick had said something wise.

Teclos drank more, and the hours passed.

At some point, Zamas gave another speech. Teclos missed most of it because Pete had fallen asleep face-first into a bowl of stew, and everyone was betting on whether he would drown in it.

He did not.

Later that night, Teclos finally escaped the worst of the drinking and stumbled toward the corner where Falcon sat.

Falcon had claimed a quiet table near the wall, away from the loudest part of the pub. Vera had apparently forced him to stay seated and had wrapped his wound again at some point. He looked tired and mildly annoyed.

Teclos dropped into the chair across from him.

"I need a break from those drunkards," he muttered. "Or I’ll sleep here."

Falcon looked at him for a moment.

Then laughed.

"You are one of those drunkards now."

Teclos frowned. "I am not."

Falcon shook his head and lifted his cup.

Teclos raised his own, although he almost spilled it while lifting it.

Their cups clinked, and Falcon nodded faintly.

"To a job well done."

Teclos looked at him and nodded back.

"To surviving."

"Couldn’t agree more." Falcon drank.

The noise of the Broken Crown rolled around them, wild and rough and alive.

Teclos let himself enjoy it.

The warmth.

The laughter.

The feeling of belonging somewhere, even if that somewhere was a pub full of criminals, killers, drunkards, and broken people.

—

By the time Teclos left the Broken Crown, the night was almost over.

The streets of the slums were quiet, and Teclos slowly stumbled through them.

The world tilted slightly with every step, almost like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm, and he had to occasionally touch a wall to keep from falling over.

Still, he smiled faintly.

The job was done, and they had all survived. With how much loot they brought back, Zamas would surely give them a hefty bonus pay tomorrow.

Teclos speculated on how pleased Zamas was.

He passed through narrow alleys and broken paths that led to his home. The cold night air helped him clear his head a little.

He was almost home when he turned the last corner and saw something strange.

The door was open.

The smile vanished from his face, and a gut-wrenching feeling of dread washed over him.

That door was never left open by Saldia. She would make damn sure it was locked all the time, even if she was at home.

Teclos took one step forward, and without realizing it, reached the house in a flash.

His fingers moved toward his sword.

"Mom?"

There was no answer. He slowly pried the door open and stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the blood on the table and near it.

Then the broken furniture.

Then the herbs scattered across the damp and icy floor, crushed beneath boots.

Teclos’s breathing slowed to a halt, and he unfurled all of his senses, searching for any sign that she was still in the vicinity.

The alcohol vanished from his mind like it had never been there.

Mana surged through his body with violent, sharp pressure. The ale in his blood was expelled until his thoughts became painfully clear.

"Mom?!" he shouted, even though he could not feel any presence nearby.

Teclos stood in the ruined kitchen, staring at the blood on the floor.

One second the night was perfectly peacefull.

And the next second...Mana so sinister erupted from him that it cracked the very space around him with a pressure so heavy that anyone nearby would have fainted from the sheer bloodlust and fury.