Hila leaned closer to the bartender, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Just what these people usually buy," he murmured, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.
He wanted to blend in, to observe and learn their habits before making his move. The bartender, oblivious to the demon king's true intentions, simply grunted in acknowledgment and reached for a dusty flagon of ale, its contents a murky, unappetizing brown.
As the bartender filled the mug, Hila couldn't help but let out a silent scoff.
Hila settled onto the stool with a grimace, the rough wood digging into his backside. The ale the bartender slammed in front of him looked less than appealing, but he took a tentative sip, forcing a grimace at the bitter taste.
This human "drink" was barely fit for a goblin, yet here he was, forced to endure it all in the name of his twisted mission.
Just then, a shadow fell across him.
