Chapter 20
At the boisterous declaration of the wizard, Riftan slammed his glass roughly against the table. However, Ruth was so unfazed and delighted that he was even carelessly handing out glasses of ales to the people around the bar.
Riftan stared with narrowed eyes at him, then sighed standing up. As he tried to go up to his room, a drunken man placed a hand on his shoulder out of nowhere and burst into laughter.
"You duel so skillfully! Right now, Balbon is going crazy. The whole city is buzzing over the possibility that a commoner will be the winner after several decades. How does it feel like to be so famous?"
Riftan just frowned at the man and tried to coldly pry his arm away. At that moment, an aggressive voice resounded from the tavern's corner.
"What a bunch of idiots! A mongrel with a pagan blood will be taking our treasure from us, what's so good about that?!"
Suddenly, the room became still and quiet, like someone had poured iced water all over everyone's heads. Riftan's head turned to the voice's direction. Three men dressed like guards sat around a small table, drinking. One of them was red-drunken and pointed at him.
"The prize for the competition is the sword of one of the twelve knights of Darian! How can I stay still when a heroic treasure of the western continent falls into the hands of someone who worships some kind of a desert god or a pagan?"
"What did you just say?!" Ruth leapt to his feet, huffing in anger.
"Sir Calypse is not a pagan! I've been following him around for over a year and I have never seen him do anything against the doctrine! What are your reasons for saying that?"
"Why would I need proof? It's already written all over that guy's face!" The man gestured a hand towards Riftan and snorted loudly. "How does someone who did something evil, such as hunting and selling monster parts, dare stand in front of the Pope?"
"Hey, do you have a problem with people who do that for a living?"
The mercenaries, who had been drinking on one side of the tavern, roared and revealed their gritted teeth. The guard, who was trying to make a point with his arguments, shrugged his shoulders and raised his head again to speak.
"Did I say anything wrong?"
"What a fucking lowlife bastard, are you trying to piss us off?"
A ragged groggy mercenary slammed down his glass of ale and wheezed. As the atmosphere grew more aggressive, the other guards sitting by elbowed their comrade as if to discourage him.
Only then did the man who caused the commotion looked around like he had suddenly come to his senses. Riftan, who was silently watching the scene unravel, opened his lips to speak.
"You seem uncomfortable with me winning the competition, so I'll give you a chance to keep me from winning. If you are able to inflict even a small wound on my body, I will withdraw from tomorrow's matches. Are you up for the challenge?"
The man shrugged his shoulders visibly and glanced at the sword strapped to his waist. But he kept his mouth shut. Riftan observed him as he wondered if he had the courage to confront him head-on after the publicly announced insults.
Riftan scoffed at the coward man, then turned to climb up the stairs. Ruth hesitated and tried to chase after him, but he shook him off with a bitter gaze: he would only feel more insulted if the wizard tried to comfort him. It was embarrassing enough for him that he had reacted angrily because of the bullshit that spilled out of the guard's mouth.
He slammed the door behind him and took off his armor, throwing it to the corner. The blue rays of the moonlight poured into his room through the open window. Riftan gazed at the full moon and then collapsed on the bed.
