Chapter 213 - 208: Dolores of Basti
Chapter 213: Chapter 208: Dolores of Basti
Amidst the roaring cheers, two figures slammed into each other!
The Scarface Mercenary from "The Anvil" moved like a phantom. He ducked under the burly man’s powerful bench swing, his reverse-gripped dagger striking like a venomous snake toward his opponent’s ribs. The angle was both vicious and cunning.
The burly man from "Gray Fang," however, was not clumsy despite his massive frame. With a furious roar, his other hand—as large as a fan—shot out with surprising agility, grabbing for Halls’s dagger-wielding wrist in an attempt to pin down his slippery opponent.
The vicious gust from the bench and the cold glint of the dagger intertwined. Both men were clearly hardened veterans, their every move aimed at a vital point, showing no mercy.
"Yeah!"
"Nice one!"
"Kill him!"
Seeing how exciting the fight was, the crowd of onlookers erupted into even louder cheers and roars. The reek of alcohol, mixed with the frenzied atmosphere, nearly blew the roof off the tavern.
Jon, however, only frowned more deeply.
’It’s clearly impossible to talk to anyone about recruitment in this situation. Staying here is just a waste of time.’
’What rotten luck. I’ll check out the Cyan Rattan Leaf Tavern and the Golden Tower’s Slumber...’
Recruiting Adventurers didn’t have to be done at the Adventurer’s Guild. Plenty of Adventurers who preferred peace and quiet could be found in smaller taverns, and their quality might even be higher.
So, he turned and began to push his way toward the exit.
Some people, annoyed at having their view of the spectacle disturbed, were about to shout curses. But when they saw Jon’s tall, powerful frame and his cold, indifferent ice-blue eyes, the words died in their throats. They could only resentfully rub their jostled shoulders and mutter under their breath.
However, just as Jon was about to push his way to the tavern door, the situation took a sudden turn!
A slender figure, almost blending into the light and shadows, appeared like a leaf caught in the wind, cutting in between the two combatants in the center of the tavern without any warning.
The figure was unbelievably fast!
One moment, they were at the edge of the crowd; the next, they stood in the eye of the storm created by the bench and the dagger.
"Agh!"
"Tch!"
As the two combatants cried out in a mixture of annoyance and surprise, the dagger and bench flew from their hands. The weapons spun through the air before crashing to the floor with a loud CLATTER.
Now disarmed and with someone interfering, the fight obviously couldn’t continue.
Most of the onlookers had no idea what had just happened.
All they saw was a gray-cloaked figure cut in like a phantom. Then, after two sharp sounds, the weapons of the two men—who had been locked in a dead heat just moments before—were suddenly on the ground!
The tavern, deafeningly noisy just a second before, instantly fell into a dead silence.
All eyes were locked on the figure who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.
It was a slender, agile young woman.
Her hood had slipped down, revealing a head of short, dark purple hair and a delicate, somewhat boyish face. In the tavern’s dim light, her amber eyes glinted with a sly light.
Her tight, brown leather armor outlined the fluid lines of her body, sleek as a panther’s. A stylish Short Bow was slung across her back, and the quiver at her waist swayed as she landed lightly—the typical garb of a Ranger.
Facing the crowd’s stares, she showed no fear. Instead, she just grinned and twirled her wrists. Two light Short Swords, no longer than her forearms, flipped and spun between her slender fingers as if they were alive.
"I say, you two—"
"No need to be so hot-headed. Security in the city is tight right now, and Count Trulane’s guards are eager to make an impression. They don’t care if you’re ’The Anvil’ or ’Gray Fang.’ If they catch you, it’s straight to the dungeons for a free meal—"
The girl’s voice was clear and melodious, tinged with a teasing smile.
"Jail time is one thing, but missing out on jobs is a much bigger problem, isn’t it?"
The burly man from Gray Fang and the Scarface Mercenary from The Anvil both stiffened. The fierce expressions on their faces froze as they subconsciously glanced toward the tavern entrance.
They knew, of course, that the Count had raised the alert level. But as Mercenaries, they lived and died by their pride and reputation. When the situation escalated, they had no choice but to fight.
Being interrupted by this girl now wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The burly man subtly rubbed his wrist, which was still tingling from the deft strike that had disarmed him. He couldn’t help but wince.
"Kid... you’ve got fast hands."
The burly man’s voice was rough, but it now held a note of admiration.
"What’s your name?"
With a flick of her wrist, the purple-haired girl sent the two Short Swords sliding back into their leather sheaths at her waist with a clean SWISH, like swallows returning to their nest.
She stood up straight, her amber eyes curving into crescents as she gave a bright, cheerful smile.
"Dolores from Pestide! Just a traveler who likes to stick her nose in other people’s business!"
"Pestide..."
The burly man repeated the name in a low voice, as if trying to recall something, then nodded.
"Alright. I’ll remember that."
He gave the young woman a long look, shot a warning glare at the Scarface Mercenary across from him, and then waved to his own companions, who were still standing there dazed.
"Let’s go! Are you going to stand here and wait for the guards to buy you a drink?"
With that, he and his companions pushed through the crowd and strode out of the tavern.
The Scarface Mercenary from The Anvil’s face was livid, but he didn’t say a word. He silently picked up his dagger and, with a dark expression, led his men away, quickly disappearing in the opposite direction.
Only after both groups had completely left did the frozen tavern come back to life with a BUZZ, as discussions spread like a rising tide.
"My gods, did you see that? How did that girl do it?"
"N-no! It was just a WHOOSH, and Halls’s dagger went flying!"
"Pestide? You mean the Pestide Duchy in the Eastern Empire? I’ve heard humans and Elves live together there. A lot of Rangers learn Elven techniques..."
"Tsk, tsk. With skills like that, she has to be at the peak of the Soldier Level, at least, right?"
The clamor filled the hall once more, but the topic of conversation had quietly shifted.
Waitresses carefully came out to clean up the mess. The bartender watched the purple-haired girl thoughtfully, then whispered something to the person beside him.
Dolores, meanwhile, acted as if nothing had happened. She dusted off her leather armor, walked up to the bar, and cheerfully ordered another ale, as if she had just swatted away a couple of buzzing flies.
Standing in the shadows by the door, Jon watched what the young woman had done. A flicker of interest flashed in his ice-blue eyes, sweeping away his earlier frustration at having his time wasted.
Even with his current agility, he hadn’t been able to follow her movements clearly. However, the effect of the skill she had just used perfectly matched a Ranger Skill he knew.
’Mobile Disarming. A Rare Level Skill. Requires a level 15 Ranger and over 40 agility... ’
’And judging by the results, her Skill is at least level 4. Otherwise, she couldn’t have disarmed them without causing injury... To have trained a Skill to this level at her age... impressive...’
’Perhaps... I should talk to her.’