Chapter Twenty-Two: The Tavern

Late at night, snow was falling in a blizzard. The wild winds howling from the Odin Glacier swept over everything, and snowflakes, nearly the size of fists and packed into icy balls, tumbled from the heights above, striking the thick drifts with chaotic, muffled sounds.

At the edge of the dense clouds overhead, a dim red glow seeped through. Whenever this strange light appeared, people of the western continent knew that the true depths of winter were about to descend, heralding the hardest three months of the year. It was said that this layer of crimson in the sky came from the blood and fire stirred up by the evil god worshipped on the Odin Glacier clashing with the gods revered by the people of the continent, staining the heavens with its ominous hue.

In the northwest corner of the southern commercial district of Briley City, less than two miles from Briley University Town, a small tavern was ablaze with lights and filled with boisterous voices, the night life in full swing.

The tavern’s entrance was narrow, only wide enough for two or three people to walk through side by side. Above the door hung a sign depicting a flamboyant beauty reclining against a massive, rusted battle sword. The black ironwood sign swung wildly in the cold wind, occasionally banging against the wall with a dull thud.

This was the Sword and Beauty Tavern, the favorite haunt of Briley Military Academy’s students for their nightly revels.

Upon entering the tavern and passing through a narrow alley, one would find a small square, able to accommodate a dozen double-harnessed carriages. A row of two-story buildings stood to the north; the second floor served as an inn, while the first housed the tavern itself.

Behind the modest bar, Big Sword Joe—the tavern’s proprietor—a middle-aged man whose left cheek had been cleaved away by a sword, leaving half his face resembling a skull, polished a massive mug with a rag. He was a veteran who had clawed his way out alive from the meat grinder of the Island Wars thirty years ago. This tavern was his inheritance; after taking it over from his father and leveraging his military connections, it became the headquarters for the Military Academy students, and business flourished.

Behind the bar, several serving girls of middling looks but striking figures laughed uproariously, bantering with a dozen disheveled Military Academy students crowded at the counter.

Despite the late hour, these students paid no heed to the academy’s rules and regulations, carousing drunkenly. Many were members of the Round Table Knights, whose leader, Black Stallion House, presided over the tavern tonight. With him present, military discipline was the least of their concerns.

In an unusually quiet corner, the burly and powerful Black Stallion House sat at a round table, flanked by key members of the Round Table Knights. The timid and cowardly Rabbit Charlie was also at the table, but his status was clearly low; no one spared him a second glance.

Black Stallion House gulped down fiery spirits, the alcohol sending his blood surging through his veins, his eyes reddening. Born into a distinguished viscount family, with a father famed as a military commander, Black Stallion House was filled with exuberant bravado. Tonight—this very night—he was determined to crush the Iron Fist Brotherhood, his rivals for three years, in one decisive blow.

Three years ago, the Round Table Knights were the largest student group in Briley University Town, casting their shadow over all its students. Back then, Black Stallion House would extort nearly a hundred gold coins each month from timid, wealthy students, enjoying the proceeds as pure income.

He had just entered the Military Academy then, assuming leadership of the Knights from his graduated elder brother. For several months, the hundred gold coins per month brought him a life of debauchery and pleasure. He still remembered those days of glory and freedom; such a sum meant he could eat and drink whatever he wished, never lacked for the company of delicate heiresses from wealthy families.

But his good fortune ended abruptly when a student gang called the Iron Fist Brotherhood suddenly rose to prominence.

Led by Lin Qi, the Iron Fist Brotherhood was cunning and ruthless, always hatching new schemes. Within three months, the arrogant Round Table Knights were thoroughly subdued. Other student factions took advantage of the upheaval, and the era of the Knights’ unrivaled dominance was gone.

Inevitably, Black Stallion House’s monthly income plummeted from a hundred gold coins to barely making ends meet.

Deep hatred and bitter humiliation gnawed at him. Countless times, he imagined personally forcing Lin Qi to his knees in surrender and restoring the Knights’ supremacy. Yet Lin Qi was too sly, too devious, his machinations beyond Black Stallion House’s ability to counter. Three years had passed, and though he suffered setback after setback, Lin Qi’s Iron Fist Brotherhood only grew stronger.

Fortunately, tonight they had captured Vic!

As one of the Iron Fist Brotherhood’s core members, Lin Qi could not possibly ignore Vic’s fate.

Slamming his mug on the table, Black Stallion House called out loudly, “Tonight, right here, I want Lin Qi on his knees begging for mercy!”

Nearly a hundred Round Table Knights raised their mugs in unison, laughing and shouting. They vowed to defeat the Iron Fist Brotherhood utterly, to restore Briley University Town to the Knights’ glorious rule, and to have students’ gold, silver, and copper coins flow into their pockets like water.

Black Stallion House gave a contented belch, clapping Rabbit Charlie’s shoulder in approval. “Charlie, you’ve done well this time. You haven’t disgraced our Military Academy! Remember, we are the regular army—they’re just a bunch of thugs. We will defeat them, we surely will!”

Such was the pride of the Round Table Knights; all its members were students of the Military Academy, claiming for themselves the title of the regular army.

And what of Lin Qi’s Iron Fist Brotherhood? Its core members hailed from various universities, while hundreds of its outer ranks were real thugs and street toughs Lin Qi had recruited. In this, Black Stallion House had not misjudged Lin Qi.

Just as Black Stallion House boasted of defeating Lin Qi and his followers, shadows flickered outside the tavern—a group of unknown figures drew near.

A few low, muffled grunts sounded; several stable hands tending the horses outside were struck from behind and left unconscious.