Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Dinner Time

By the time he’d registered his party at the Adventurer Guild and said goodbye to Hulk, night had completely fallen.

He had arrived in Rose Town at noon in Annis’s carriage, and since then, he’d been completely wrapped up in business at the Adventurer Guild.

All he’d eaten the entire day was a single Dragon Breath Roasted Skewer at noon. Now, his stomach was completely empty, and he was starving.

Bruce gave him an especially mournful look. For the dog, eating was the single most important thing in life—everything else had to make way for it.

Hesia had originally planned to use the cover of night to explore the quaint little town—before he’d been transported to this world, it had been his favorite pastime in any new city.

But he decided against it for today.

He didn’t have anything he needed to buy at the moment. He already had a waterskin and a bedroll, and when he’d asked Hulk about a rain tarp, his companion had promised to bring one.

’I’ll skip it. First, I need to fill my stomach and find a place to stay for the night. Getting enough rest for tomorrow’s mission is what’s important.’

Instead of heading back down the main road he’d taken at noon, he randomly turned into an alley that seemed to have a decent amount of foot traffic and was fairly well-lit.

The shop signs on either side flickered in and out of view under the dim yellow glow of Magic Lamps.

”Delicious Rose”—that looked like a restaurant.

”Black Cat Tavern”—a mysterious-looking tavern?

”Beastmen and the Lute?” This name successfully caught Hesia’s attention.

He stopped in his tracks, curiously studying the sign, which was carved from a rough plank of wood.

How could an instrument like the Lute, known for its delicate and sweet tones, possibly be associated with gruff Beastmen?

’Is the owner a Beastman Minstrel?’

The combination was just too bizarre.

But the rich aroma of food wafting from the entrance confirmed that it was, in fact, a restaurant.

He walked up and pushed open the heavy oak door.

”TING-A-LING—”

The door struck a brass bell behind it, letting out a crisp ring.

The moment he stepped into the tavern, he was hit by a thick wave of aromas—a mixture of charred roasted meat, rich malt beer, and some sort of exotic spice.

The main hall was spacious, with a low ceiling. Several smoke-blackened tin lanterns hung from thick wooden beams, casting flickering, dim yellow shadows across the room.

The walls were made of rough, unplastered stone, with bits of moss peeking out from the cracks.

A few faded family banners and a massive cloven-hoofed bull skull decorated the main wall.

The tables and chairs were made of thick, solid wood. The arms of countless patrons had worn the edges smooth, but the tabletops were covered in knife scars and the deep white rings left by mugs.

The bar was fashioned from a single, enormous ancient log that had been split in half. Its surface, coated in a thick layer of resin, was both smooth and uneven.

Behind the bar, wooden shelves lining the entire wall were packed with barrels and clay pots of all sizes. Labels written in both Common Language and a rough script—which Hesia guessed was the Beastman tongue—indicated their names and prices.

A particularly eye-catching black barrel had a wooden sign hanging from it, on which was scrawled in red paint: ”Grim’s Private Brew—Drink at Your Own Risk.”

Against the right wall stood a massive stone fireplace where half a small, skinned, and gutted cloven-hoofed bull was slowly turning on a spit. Grease dripped into the flames, making a SIZZLING sound.

A huge, double-bladed battle-axe was propped casually against the side of the fireplace.

In that spot, it almost looked like a handy cooking implement, but Hesia had no doubt it could be snatched up and used as a weapon in an instant.

The room wasn’t crowded.

In one corner, a few older Adventurers sat huddled together, their armor clinking, apparently in the middle of a card game.

At another table, two hooded figures sat silently carving the meat on their plates.

And in a dim corner, a gray-robed figure was muttering to a wall, tiny orange-red sparks occasionally CRACKLING from their fingertips.

’A Fire Element Caster?’

A voice cut through Hesia’s thoughts.

”A new face.”

The voice was low and gravelly, coming from the towering figure behind the bar.

”What are you standing there gawking for? Either come in and find a seat, or get out and close the door. Don’t let the cold in.”

A figure nearly two meters tall stepped out of the shadows behind the bar.

He had grayish-green skin and thick tusks that jutted up from his lower lip. A vicious scar sliced across his left eye, and his knotted, muscular arms were covered in ancient battle markings. He was currently wiping a horn cup with a coarse cloth.

”What can I get for you? Dwarf Malt Beer, Elf Wine, or... a real Beastman’s Strong Alcohol?” He grinned, his tusks rising with the motion. ”Just don’t order the mead. That stuff’s for babes who ain’t been weaned.”

Hesia looked at the proprietor before him with some surprise.

’A Half-Beastman?’

’That would explain the tavern’s name,’ he thought.

”I’ll take your recommendation,” Hesia said calmly, walking up to the bar. ”A real Beastman’s Strong Alcohol.”

The Half-Beastman proprietor paused his wiping. His good eye carefully sized up Hesia’s seemingly slender frame. ”You sure?”

Hesia smiled. ”Of course.”

He wasn’t actually a huge fan of hard liquor. He was mostly ordering it to get closer to the proprietor, who looked like he had a few stories to tell. It would be a good chance to raise his Affinity and see if he could extract a trait.

As for the risk of getting drunk? He wasn’t worried at all. No matter how advanced this world’s brewing techniques were, the strongest alcohol would be, at best, on par with the high-proof spirits from his past life. Besides, he had the [Refined Gold Gastrointestinal Tract] ability.

”What’s there to eat?”

While drawing the alcohol from the Black Iron barrel, the Half-Beastman owner replied, ”For main courses, we’ve got our signature roasted cloven-hoofed bull ribs and stone-jaw meat pie. Stew’s sold out for the day. For snacks, there’s smoked jerky with hard cheese, or roasted Woodland giant mushrooms.”

”One order of the roasted cloven-hoofed bull ribs, and...” Hesia started, eyeing the massive spit and trying to gauge the portion size.

The Half-Beastman proprietor cut him off, slamming the cup of pungent liquor down in front of Hesia with a THUD. ”Listen to me, kid. Just order the ribs for now.

One order of my cloven-hoofed bull ribs is enough to fill the belly of a Warrior who’s been starving all day. If you’re still hungry after you finish, you can order more.”

Hesia picked up the cup, which reeked of strong alcohol, and nodded. ”One order of that, then. And if you could, please throw in some extra bones.”

He pointed to Bruce at his feet, who was staring longingly at the roasting meat in the fireplace. ”This guy loves to chew on bones.”

”No problem.” The Half-Beastman proprietor turned to head toward the fireplace.

Just then, Hesia noticed a yellowed sheet of parchment nailed to a corner of the bar. A few rules were written on it in a scrawled yet forceful hand:

Rules:

1. Pay first.

2. Don’t touch the servers (unless you can beat me in a fight).

3. Take your fights outside.

4. Debts will be paid with teeth.

He quickly called out to the proprietor. ”Wait! Boss, I forgot to ask, how much is it all together?”

As he spoke, he pulled his Money Bag from his pocket.

[Half-Beastman Grim’s Affinity toward you has increased. Decryption Points +5]