Chapter 13 - 13. Hangover

"You know, I'm not entirely sure living like this is very healthy." A mocking voice made Glenn's head ring. Last night was one of the biggest parties he had ever since he began going to the university. His headache was a testament to how much he drank. Between the beer pongs, the drinking games, the challenges, the number of drinks he accepted from god knows how many girls...He had no idea how much he drank, but it was easily ten times more than what he should have drank.He was lying in a bed, sheets thrown everywhere. Judging from the smell, it seemed like he didn't puke during his sleep, a true miracle in his books. He turned his head to his left toward the direction the voice came from. Sitting at a desk, working on a computer was a beautiful girl, only dressed in a white shirt too big for her."You look pretty good in my stuff." He said aloud, his tongue pasty. His breath was smelling horribly, the alcohol scent overwhelming him. He struggled, sitting himself up. The girl laughed, making a sound soothing to Glenn's ears."Don't dream, it was a one-time thing. Complimenting me won't do you much good, nasty boy."The young man rubbed his face, trying to put his ideas into place. He stood up from the bed, wearing nothing but his birthday suit, and headed for the bathroom. He quickly took a cold shower, washing any signs of ebriety away. After making sure that he had gotten rid of any smell of alcohol on his body, he got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. The girl was gone, a small post-it stuck on the closed computer."It was fun. See you around!"The young man shook his head dejectedly, a small smile on his face. He looked around, taking in the literal mess they had made of the room last night."Now, the important question is...Where the hell are my clothes...?"Glenn found himself sprawled on the ground, his head pounding and thoughts foggy. His brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton, making even basic thinking a challenge. Even that night back then wasn't as hard on him as this one. What were they putting in their drinks, those madmen? 'Well, that's a good lesson for you. Always drink in moderation!' 'Shu' up, you—'A weird movement in his guts interrupted him in the middle of his thoughts. Glenn fell on his knees, barfing a preferably non-identified mixture. It would probably be best for it to stay unidentified, judging from the smell coming from it. "Ughhh…"Glenn felt relief washing over him after emptying his stomach from whatever that was and trying to stand back up. Sadly, he only manages to slip on his vomit and fall on his rear end. The sudden movement didn't help with his already fragile stomach, sending it into a tailspin again. What was meant to happen, happened, and he retched once more, getting rid of any remains that might have been left. With a sluggish motion, Glenn wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He then noticed bloodstains on the fabric. His dizziness began to clear away, and he became painfully aware of multiple parts of his body aching, with his face throbbing the most.'Just…What the hell happened?' Struggling to take in his surroundings, Glenn saw other people lying on the ground, some familiar from the previous night's party, and others strangers that he never met before. 'They're probably as groggy as me; I'll check on them later,' He decided, his legs wobbly. Satisfied that his belongings were still intact, Glenn breathed a sigh of relief. Apart from his useless, corroded sword, everything seemed to be where he left it. Well, the weapon wasn't that big of a loss, and he still had the backup one in his dimensional pouch.The night was dark, the moons hidden behind black clouds that cast little to no moonlight. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was behind the inn, likely thrown out after the chaos. He walked with unsteady steps toward one of the unconscious figures he recognized. Kneeling beside him, he gently attempted to wake him up, before slapping him in the face. His efforts were in vain, and the man remained plunged in deep sleep, his face battered and his body bruised, testaments to a brutal beating. At least, he wasn't dead. No one seemed like they were, just badly beaten up. 'What in the world happened?' 'I could tell you, but it would ruin the fun.' Glenn ignored Diamanes' taunts, turning toward the inn, and left the unconscious fellows where they were. They were big boys and girls, they should be able to take care of themselves. He dusted off his shoulders and decided to go ask the bartender what happened. When he arrived in front of the entrance, he noticed that one of the doors was hanging off its hinges, the other swinging slowly in the breeze. Glenn stepped inside and was met with a messy scene of absolute chaos.The inn had been transformed into a battlefield overnight. Of the dozen tables from the previous night, only four remained standing, blood and alcohol spilled over them. The rest were wrecked in various, creative ways, making him wonder who was imaginative enough to break those this way. A chair even dangled oddly from the ceiling, its feet stuck in the wood like a nail.Whistling in awe, Glenn approached the bartender, who was wearily sweeping the debris with a disheartened expression. When the bartender's gaze met Glenn's, it turned dark, and he hurried behind the counter, bending down under it to retrieve something. Lost in thought, Glenn didn't think any of it and rubbed his chin, surveying the mess. "What exactly went down last night? I can't remember a thing, not even a fight." He said aloud, hoping that the bartender would provide some clarity or at least some explanation. He pulled the dangling chair from the ceiling and brought it to the counter."Ah!" An exclamation came from under the counter, before the bartender stood back up, producing a staff-like object with a large red crystal embedded on top of it. He looked at Glenn, looked at the staff, looked at Glenn, and without another second of hesitation, aimed the staff at his client. A bolt of fire was conjured at the tip of the staff, flying toward Glenn. The suddenness of the attack made Glenn fall off his chair, narrowly avoiding the fiery projectile.A sharp bang echoed from behind Glenn, and he turned his head just in time to see a smoldering hole in the previously untouched door. The bartender pointed his finger above the counter, aiming once again at Glenn, a crazed expression on his face and his eyes bloodshot. "YOU DAMNED BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE HERE?" With speed that could defy any athlete, Glenn fled, trying to go for the exit, but another fire projectile bolting above his head made him jump behind an overturned table. Taking a deep breath beneath the makeshift shelter, Glenn tried to collect his thoughts. What had he done to make the formerly friendly bartender turn this deadly? "YOU PIECE OF SHIT! FIRST, YOU DRAINED MY ENTIRE CELLAR! YOU MONSTER, HOW CAN YOU DRINK SO MUCH?!?" Another shot shattered the table next to Glenn, leaving a fiery hole just inches from his head. A few splinters planted themselves in his arms, making him wince in pain. He crouched low to the ground to avoid any incoming rounds. "THEN, YOU GOT INTO A FIGHT WITH THE OTHER BASTARDS!" 'Can you be of any assistance, Diamanes? Or are you as useless as I suspect?' A mocking laughter echoed in Glenn's mind. 'I can't help you right now; I've yet to be fed.' Feed him? What was he supposed to feed him? Another shot broke the table in half, interrupting his thoughts and exposing Glenn to the shooter. Diamanes seemed to have the time of his life, not worried for a second about his host's life. "AND TO TOP IT OFF, YOU SET THEIR ENTIRE MOONGRASS STASH ABLAZE!" Ah, now it made sense why the bartender was after him. Acting fast, Glenn raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, hoping to defuse the situation. Not like he had much of a choice, anyway. "Sir, I wholeheartedly apologize for the mess. I'll cover the damages, so let's call it even, alright?" The bartender lowered his staff, a forlorn expression replacing his anger. A single tear slipped down his cheek, creating a faint splattering sound as it hit the counter. "You...Do you even realize whose stash you destroyed?" The bartender spoke with a broken voice, almost to the point of crying. He hid his face in his hands, before taking out a bottle hidden somewhere behind the counter. He tried to pour himself a drink with shaking hands, his face paling even more when not even a drop fell from the bottle. "Shit, even this one is empty!" The bottle flew towards Glenn's feet, shattering into shards of glass. Filled with guilt, he dug into his pouch and retrieved half of the gold coins he possessed, hoping it would be enough to cover the extensive damage. He didn't know how much it was worth, but he hoped it would be enough to pay for all this mess. "Damn it, we're all screwed. We're all screwed…" The bartender was lamenting his misfortune when his eyes caught the golden glint emanating from Glenn's hands. Suddenly looking up, any signs of despair, sadness, or hopelessness disappeared, replaced with a wide grin. Even the traces of his tears had magically been erased.The bartender started rubbing his hands together, his eyes wide open, while looking at the five shining gold coins. He wiped the saliva dripping from his mouth and straightened himself. Finally, after coughing a few times, he bowed slightly, extending both hands to receive the money. "Yes, well, um, I suppose I can overlook it, Young Master, if you pay up." Young Master? Money spoke the same language no matter where you went. Glenn handed over the coins and took a look at the staff. The bartender appeared utterly flabbergasted, his gaze locked onto the glittering coins in his palms. "How much for your staff? I lost my sword." The bartender swiftly concealed the gold and fetched the staff, offering it with both hands. "For you, dear patron, my Fire Staff comes free of charge! You must be a Mage! And please, remember my name, Winston, when you rise through the Circles!" A Mage? Nope, but I would love to be! And what are the Circles?Glenn picked up the weapon, ignoring his current questions. Asking the bartender would make him look like a fool, so he wasn't going to do that. The staff was lighter than he thought it would be, and he already knew he'd have an easier time surviving with such a devastating weapon compared to a puny sword. He still had to figure out how it worked, but it probably won't be much of a problem. He did have his decorated sword safely waiting in his dimensional pouch, but since he paid five gold, he needed to get as much out of it, no matter what it was worth. And perhaps that, by taking this thing away, he saved another drunkard from a future death.Glenn smiled while putting the staff on his shoulder. "Thanks, Winston. I won't forget you." With how he almost got burned down by this man, he wouldn't forget his name anytime soon. Winston nodded multiple times, smiling with all his teeth—well, the ones that were left, which wasn't much. With a new weapon in his hand, Glenn stepped out of the inn, feeling like he had pretty well acted, and his guilt disappeared as quickly as it appeared.---Winston marveled at the five gold coins in his grasp. He couldn't believe his eyes and even went so far as to bite one, just to confirm they were genuine.He let out a relieved sigh, silently thanking Plutus, the god of his cherished Golden Church. Though he wasn't an Envoy, he faithfully donated to his faith, and now his devotion had yielded rewards far beyond his expectations.Having arrived from a distant land, Winston had set up his inn at one of King's Rise's entrances, aiming to earn enough to secure a place within the city for his family. Little did he imagine that he would soon amass a sum that could elevate him to the ranks of the bourgeoisie. For even a single gold coin, he would have gladly set his inn ablaze twice over.With renewed zeal, he resolved to become even more devout and to continue spreading the message of his faith. Gratefully stowing the coins in his secret compartment, he pondered about the weed stash. Memories of their "Eyes" being there during last night's brawl haunted his thoughts. News of the incident would undoubtedly reach their ears, and Winston knew he couldn't escape their notice.Gazing at the chaotic remnants of his inn, Winston wished Glenn the best, recognizing the young man as the instrument of his sudden fortune."Best of luck dealing with them, Young Master. I'll be there at your funerals."