Chapter 22: The Drunk Dog Tavern

Half an hour later, Juliet was finally clean.

Walpurgis collapsed on the bench, looking utterly defeated.

“I never want to wash someone else’s tail again.”

Bathing required washing both forms to get clean. In her fox-kin form, that big blue tail was fluffy and smooth, but it had been soaked in blood and water. Just combing and grooming it took twenty minutes. Switching back to human form and washing again added another ten.

Now, with her fox ears and tail retracted, she looked like a short, blue-haired maid.

Aurora leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“You’re a bard, well-traveled and connected to the guild, so you must know about Happy Water, right? Are you familiar with the smuggling channels?”

Juliet shook her head honestly.

“I really don’t know about that. I’m not involved in smuggling—I’ve just seen people drink it.”

She counted on her fingers, recounting where she had seen Happy Water.

Plenty of people drank it, from high-ranking officials to common vendors, everywhere.

“But! The guild master definitely knows about the smuggling. There isn’t any shady business in the royal capital that the guild doesn’t know about.”

“Then I need to talk to the master.”

“No problem!” Juliet patted her chest. “I’ll find a contact to send word to the master and arrange a meeting place for you. Easy peasy!”

Aurora looked at her beaming face and felt a flicker of doubt.

To guarantee so readily—either she had real confidence or was just habitually boastful. Based on their brief experience together, the latter seemed more likely.

But she had no other options right now.

Almost everyone opposed Aurora investigating the Happy Water smuggling. She couldn’t possibly go back and use the corpse-talking spell to interrogate those dead merchants.

“Fine, take us to the contact.”

“Leave it to me!”

Aurora said no more. She smoothed her hair and pushed open the bathroom door.

In the hallway, six people stood neatly in two rows.

At the head was a man in his thirties, wearing a long chainmail coat under a dark blue surcoat. On his chest was embroidered the Olivia family crest—a white sword slanting into a golden balance scale, on a blue shield with a gold border.

Behind him stood a chainmail sergeant, three soldiers carrying short bows, and a young female attendant in blue.

The female attendant held a staff—likely a mage or priest specialized in buff magic. She was probably not very skilled, only fit to assist a knight.

Considering the gender issues, Aurora strongly suspected that this curvy and pretty attendant also offered other services to the knight.

This was the standard formation of a Frankish Royal Knight Squad: six people per lance team—a knight, a sergeant, three horse archers, and an attendant. A hundred such lance teams formed a knight order, the basic unit of the kingdom’s standing army.

When the knight captain saw Aurora, he immediately knelt on one knee, right fist to his chest.

“My lady.”

The five behind him bowed in unison.

Aurora glanced at them and nodded.

“Keep this operation confidential. Let’s go.”

The group crossed the stone bridge over the Seine and entered the bustling area on the right bank.

Shops and stalls lined both sides of the street, with vendors shouting over each other. Juliet led the way, familiarly ducking into a narrow alley, twisting and turning until they stopped before a three-story wooden building.

“We’re here!”

She slapped the door loudly and tilted her chin toward the others.

The sign showed a dog lying on its back with a bottle in its mouth, below which read “Dead Drunk Dog.”

“One of the guild’s contact points—the boss is one of us!”

Juliet said this without lowering her voice, full of energy.

Walpurgis quickly glanced around.

“Can you keep it down…”

“What’s there to fear? This whole area is our turf!”

Walpurgis’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing.

Aurora didn’t comment and pushed the door open.

A strong smell of ale and roasted meat hit them.

The tavern was lively. Dozens of mercenaries carrying various weapons crowded around long tables, drinking and eating heartily. Their shouts and curses made the chandelier above shake continuously.

In the corner, a bard strummed a lute, his fingers dancing over the strings to produce a lively, skipping melody.

It was “The Bard’s Dance.” As soon as Juliet entered, she hummed along.

Walpurgis’s attention had completely wandered.

Her eyes were fixed on a neighbor’s table piled high with roast lamb chops. Her blue eyes glistened, and her throat moved involuntarily.

Aurora noticed but didn’t call her out.

Pretty waitresses in bunny girl outfits carried trays between tables, smiling and chatting, their long legs in black stockings a pleasant sight.

Behind the bar sat an old one-eyed man.

He didn’t greet customers or shout, just quietly wiped a glass, a faint smile on his lips. His solitary eye was half-closed like an old cat basking in the sun.

But Aurora noticed that the moment she pushed the door, that eye swept over her precisely and then quickly looked away.

This must be the tavern owner and the so-called contact.

Then the entire hall fell silent.

The shouting stopped, the cursing stopped, even the clatter of knives and forks on plates diminished.

Dozens of wary eyes fixed on them.

The mercenaries’ hands instinctively went to their weapons.

The only sound remaining was the bard’s lute in the corner.

Now he played “The Old Wars.”

Walpurgis instinctively pulled out her staff and gripped it tightly.

Juliet hopped over to the bar, plopped onto a high stool, crossed her legs, and grinned at the one-eyed owner.

“Hey! Contact Nine-Fingered Keen for me, tell them someone’s looking for them!”

That sentence hit the room like shouting “Shorty!” in a room full of dwarves.

The tavern exploded.

Chairs scraped, glasses shattered, and swords left their sheaths almost simultaneously.

The nearest table of mercenaries flipped it over as cover, crossbows aimed at Aurora. Two burly men with scars drew curved blades and blocked the door. The one-eyed owner behind the bar suddenly held a short crossbow, his half-closed eye now wide open, pupils filled with murderous intent.

“Protect the young lady!”

The guard reacted swiftly.

The sergeant and knight raised shields and swords, shielding Aurora. Shield struck shield, forming an iron wall. The archers stepped back, bows drawn, arrowheads glinting in the firelight.

Aurora snatched a spare shortsword from the horse archer beside her, reversed her grip, and retreated into the center of the formation.

Walpurgis was already muttering a spell, blue light flickering at her fingertips. Her blue eyes scanned the surroundings, and she even held her breath in tension.

The two sides froze.

Blade to blade, arrow to arrow, less than three steps apart.

Finally, the bard stopped playing, crying out and clutching his lute as he shrank into the deepest corner.

Juliet remained on the high stool, head tilted, looking innocent.

“Huh? Did I say something wrong?”

Aurora prepared a Flame Ray with her free hand, aiming at Juliet’s back.

“Juliet, fall back!”

Hearing Aurora call her, a dazed Juliet finally realized how big a mess she had made. With a shriek, she ran back and hid behind Aurora.

Protected by her guards, Aurora called out to the tavern owner.

“Brave warrior, I came here to discuss business, not to fight. If you dare lay a hand on me, my family will make sure you regret it!”

“Business? The powerful Marquis Olivia wants to discuss business with me?”

Aurora was startled.

It wasn’t the owner who spoke, but a somewhat hoarse female voice.

The one-eyed owner respectfully lifted the curtain leading to the back kitchen, and a tall, slim woman with brown hair and black eyes emerged.

She wore a green robe and carried a pair of curved blades at her waist.

“I am Keen. Miss Aurora, what business do you want to discuss with me?”

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