Ryan was taken aback at the question, his face contorted into an expression of confusion as he tilted his head.
"I'm sorry, what?" He beckoned softly, seeking clarification.
The innkeeper sighed, turning his gaze to a group of people sitting at a distance. They stood out, weirdly fully clad in armor in a tavern, and they seemed to laugh the loudest at everything that came out of their mouths.
"They claim to be like you," the man muttered, turning away from them to look at Ryan. "But they aren't," he continued before turning away and grabbing a small rag to clean the inside of some glasses.
"I can tell, at first glance at you—the eyes of a killer, of a man who's broken, not one pretending to be," the innkeeper looked up at Ryan, his dark eyes giving him just that much more certainty in what he said.
"I'm not a killer," Ryan responded, his tone measured and his expression blank. He gripped the glass and took another sip of the gin.
"Of course you aren't. You'd be a terrible one if you went around saying you were," the innkeeper chuckled. "You know they come in here and tell loud stories, tales of their heroic acts in the legion, how many enemies they've slain in the name of justice," the man stared into nothingness, a painful gaze.
"What do they know about justice, such cowards cannot kill a man," he spat.
"What they can do however, is-"
"You two seem to be deep in conversation," Ruck approached them with a bowl of food, placing it down in front of Ryan.
Chunks of tender, spice-rubbed pork belly, browned to a golden crisp, nestled amongst the grains. A tangle of crisp forest onions and sweet, sun-dried tomatoes added a burst of color and texture. A dollop of creamy goat cheese, laced with wild herbs, melted into the warmth.
Ryan couldn't even remember the last time he had been able to eat something this good.
"Adrian, this is Ruck, our main chef, and Ruck, this is Adrian, a new friend of mine," the innkeeper introduced both men as they exchanged a handshake.
Ruck had fiery red hair, as if his head had been set on fire, and his ruby eyes seemed to mirror the flaming essence as well—a burning red gaze that seemed less fitting for a chef and more for a seasoned warrior.
"Well, I'm getting loaded with orders back there, so I gotta get back to work," Ruck said, excusing himself with a nod.
Ryan picked up the fork, pierced a chunk of pork, then put it in his mouth. An explosion of flavor flooded his taste buds; this was easily one of the best bites of food he'd had in years.
"So, I ask again... How good of a murderer are you?" The innkeeper met Ryan's gaze as he paused to look up from his food. Ryan looked back down, stabbing another chunk of pork. "I'm decent," he said, putting the fork to his mouth. He wanted to see where this goes.
He was definitely stronger than an average human by a lot; at this point, he would only be challenged by mana users. So, in truth, he was very capable of killing normal humans. The only thing stopping him were morals; however, a broken man does not possess such a thing.
"They cannot be touched by the province as they are foot guards from the legion. Even if they are manaless, they still have connections to become legion guards. Doing anything to them will be problematic, so the province leader can't act," the innkeeper's voice was low.
"Act on what?" Ryan turned to the table the innkeeper talked about, four armored men among one equally armoured woman who laughed loudly and drank like there was no tomorrow. "What did they do aside from seeming like a terribly annoying bunch?" Ryan asked, filling his mouth with more bites of his food.
"Well, they harass the townsfolk, steal, and vandalize under their facade of authority, but those are things we've tolerated, always have... Until they gang-raped my daughter, eventually leading to her taking her own life."
Ryan's hands paused in the air, a momentary shock from the man's words as he dropped the fork back into the bowl. He glanced at the group before turning back and sighing. "I'm sorry to hear that, and I understand you must be trying to appeal to whatever heroic tendencies you might assume I have... But I am not the type of man you think I am," Ryan looked at the man, his expression one of anticipation.
"I know exactly what kind of man you are. I knew the moment I saw you, from your bloody clothes to your dead eyes and hopeless expression. You'll do anything for your own goals, and I'm sure not having to worry about food and a place to stay might aid those goals," the man's voice echoed with the wisdom of a thousand lessons learned and even more stories heard.
Ryan sat up on the stool, looking at the man for a moment. "You mentioned the province leader, can you set me up a private meeting with him?" Ryan questioned.
"I can't set up a meeting, however, I can get you a way to meet him in private," the innkeeper responded.
Ryan sighed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Painful deaths... all of them," the innkeeper's scruffy voice low and determined.
"How strong are they?"