The Perfect Heir [ONC 2024]

Chapter One

"Bleugh, this tastes like fish piss!"

"I'm more worried about how you were able to identify fish piss."

"Ha, you're very funny, mop hair." Lan frowned for a moment, the mug halfway to his lips. "Think I might just have water," he muttered as he got up from the table he shared with Bon.

The Salient Mango was filled that late afternoon with honest folks and the working people. Men gambling on several tables were loud with their wins and losses alike. The serving girls were practically sliding through the cramped space, all the while carrying a tray of drinks! A cat would take lessons on elegance from Jarro's girls.

Lan returned with a mug of water. Bon didn't bother concealing his smirk.
"You alright up there?"

"I'm fine," Lan replied not so sullenly, sipping his oh-so-cold water.

A commotion broke out at the other end of the common room. The shoving and yelling kind of commotion. It had all the ingredients to become a proper nasty brawl. Not something Jarro would like that evening. There had been too much of that recently. Especially now that the war was over.

Bon excused himself before slowly making his way to the commotion centre. The men at the back who saw him went quiet and frantically tapped those in front of them. By the time he got to the table, everyone had hushed as they formed a cordon around him.

"What's all the racket for?" Bon asked casually.

"Who in Mudfell are you?" A big fellow with a nasty scar on the bridge of his nose said. He folded his arms, a nasty sneer painted on his hard blocky features. Bon decided he didn't like him.

Bon cocked his head at him. "You must be new here. My name is Bon, and I'm a priest."

The big fellow still had on his sneer. "Aren't you too young to be a priest? Well, priest, your friends are sore losers."

"Oh?" Bon turned to inspect the faces around him. More than a few were familiar. An arched eyebrow was the only prompt they needed before words of grievance were born from their lips.

More yelling and incoherent ramblings. The shoving was about to begin anew. However, he could make out words like 'weighted dice' and 'cheating' key ingredients for a brawl.

He turned back to the grinning big man. "How about a game?" Bon asked, gesturing at the table with dice on it.

Before then, he hadn't thought a sneer could grow wider and more irritating. I'm going to wipe that sneer off your face.

A grunt was the reply he got. They sat and although everyone around the table had been about to beat the demon out of each other, Bon could see coins exchanging hands. They'd bet on the end of the world, these honest folks.

"One game. I'll put in a crown."

"I'll take your crown, boy."

The big man shook and dropped his dice cup on the table. They stared at each other.