After five glasses of cocktails, Isabel's whole body relaxed, it's not surprising that her tongue was also the same, and her speech was now slurring. She danced to the beat in the middle of the flock. Inhibition gone.
The band sang Bruno Mars playlist, so she knew practically all the lyrics, at first, she sings along, but after three more bottles of Mule mix, she was not happy with just singing along with the crowd but went on the stage and grabbed the microphone and belted her heart out.
She made sure, though, that George had her fun recorded in her phone's camera for her parents to see.
Away in Raven's Cove, in the Novalian war zone. The hard training of Hash's men was so worth it.
Seeing them annihilate the enemies today was gratifying. Used the basic technique, simple, but deadly, he could relax and sip on a vial of wine, which he designed.
He was still putting the lid of the bottle on his lips when a group of young enemy warriors rushed towards him, all riding a horse, but he throws his head in the air, laughing.
"Who says they can't copy a technique or two?"
He took a couple of pebble grenades he made last two weeks ago in his makeshift laboratory.
Pulled the improvised pin and throw it to the roughly twenty men that are attacking him when they're just a few feet away from him.
He was not sure how huge the impact will be, it's homemade after all. So she rode as far away as he can.
His act encouraged the leader of the troop because he thought he was cowering away. A few seconds passed the pebbles exploded, and it severed the heads of the warriors that unfortunately catches it.
"Hm not bad."
The bomb injured six men and only over ten heads were running towards him. He admired their bravery.
"Stop!" He pretended to look annoyed.
Sipped from his clay bottle, then conducted a halt sign with his right hand. Everyone froze, naivete was clear in their eyes.
"I'll give you a chance to choose. You can die with your brains out or you can follow and learn the art from me." After he savored another sip, he drew three pebbled size grenades from the pouch tied in his garb.
Followed by bewilderment and puzzled, they exchanged looks. First, how the Prince of Novalia knows their language, second, what kind of trickery did he pull, he was testing their sovereignty?
"I'm going to count three."
He looked so serious, but he almost laughed at how they were confused.
"After that, tell me your decisions."
He again drank from his flask, this time half the content went in his mouth. He realized that the liquor and mini grenades occupied both his hands.
He put back the cap of his jug and flung it to an enemy, which was startled, and dropped it to the ground as soon.
"Don't worry, it won't kill you"
A laugh eventually escaped from his mouth.
"Three" He signaled three of his fingers on the air, for everyone to see.
"Two," Putting down one of his fingers.
"One." Then everyone raised their hands up, signaling surrender. These youths were really guileless. He knew they would surrender, but they just have to wait for him to finish counting.
"Very good. Now leave everything behind, including your clothes. This has to be your test, for me to know if you're really willing." He said, smirking. Everyone got off their horses and slowly, unwillingly stripped off their clothes.
Even if this was ancient, the civilization knew about the taboo of being naked in public.
Of course, they didn't have to be naked, but he wanted to make sure they're psychologically devastated and broken before building them up again.
He was brutal like this, but it's necessary. It's in the art of war, giving the former enemy a chance to prove himself that he was loyal. He would prove it to you over and over.
Once they're totally naked, their heads hung on their shoulders.
"Perfect! Now you have to wait for me here. I have to roll up this battle. I have to check if your former comrades are still alive so we can get going." He stirred his horse to the battlefield.
"Oh, you can drink, sip some of that wine, it'll make you numb and dumb for quite some time." It's his own brew, so he knew how strong it can be.
"Yo!" He called one of his men. Tell everyone to finish this up and that they've done a good job."
After half a day of battling, they moved the camp closer to the Byzen's capital. And, of course, while traveling, the former Byzen men are also naked, without a meal.
Also, the intoxication of Hash's wine was slowly fading away. They no longer had a choice because they can't go back. The surviving soldiers had seen them.
Their former fellows spatted and cursed on them. Their morale was totally obliterated.
It took them a couple of days to settle. Byzen's capital was near the Snake River. Yes, exactly, because its shape was like a snake. Ancient civilization always settles near the dominant water source.
Finally, the former Byzen soldiers, now clothed with a Novalian army uniform which was altered, more closely to twentieth-century fatigue, they're fed and oriented as sovereigns of Novalia.
It puzzled the assassins because this was the first time their prince took an enemy to be part of their killing spree team. They were all angry, but they didn't complain, at least not outspoken. Hash gave them instructions on how to profile the "refugees" as he calls them.
They have to undergo a series of tests, both psychological and physical, which have to be reported to them once done. He has to monitor these men, they'll be Novalia's future leaders.
They will have to suffer, but it's going to be their destiny. Of course, he was playing god, what else.