The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193: Getting On Nerves

Inside a large tavern in downtown Nefer.

The group of men led by the King of Megaris entered the crowded building. As soon as they stepped foot inside, their presence was immediately felt. Heads turned, conversations faltered, and whispers of admiration filled the air. These were obviously not ordinary men, with their strong, muscular frames and their tall features handsome.

"A mercenary band?"

"Fool, do they look that poor to you?"

"From their attire, they must be foreigners."

"Indeed, Nefer has been flooded by people from all over the continent due to the summit."

"Aye, look at their pale skin. Probably friends from afar."

A lot of people observing them tacitly agreed they were a group of young masters who secretly came out to have fun.

Despite donning simple shirts and pants, it was impossible for Drayce, Arlan, Slayer and Imbert to blend among the commoners. Be it appearance or presence, or even the manner of sitting down, they were a class above everyone else.

They paid for a long table on the first floor, a good location overlooking the ground floor of the tavern. This time, Slayer didn’t have to be told what to do and sat down next to his friends, instead of standing guard or staying at a separate table.

Arlan looked at Slayer, "Good to see you are back to your normal self instead of acting like the haughty knight of the King of Megaris."

Slayer looked at him casually, "I saw my dear friend getting frustrated over small small things so I decided to join him for drinks," and raised a brow, "I was wondering what is troubling you so much when you are always the one to cause trouble for others and get on their nerves?"

Arlan sighed, not answering. He simply called for the server to get their orders.

"Lad, get us the strongest ale this place serves, and six flagons at that. A plate of each of your meat dishes as well—"

A single flagon could fill up three mugs. For their group, three flagons of strong ale would be more than sufficient for the first round.

Slayer threw a questioning gaze at Drayce. "Who got on his nerves now?"

"Someone who he cannot control."

"So there is finally someone to challenge this impossibly dominating prince, yet survived to tell the tale?"

"Looks like it and you might already know it."

Arlan threw a threatening glare their way. "You two can shut your mouths and only open them for your drinks."

"Didn’t you propose to play in a tavern so we can relax and have some heart-to-heart chat?" Slayer asked.

"You too are being unusually chatty today."

"Me too? Who else acts unusually chatty in front of you?"

"Be good and do not get on my nerves," Arlan threw a warning gaze at him.

"How can I let go of this rare chance of getting on your nerves?" Slayer spoke as if that warning didn’t affect even a bit. "You complain when I talk formally, you also complain when I talk casually. You are hard to please, aren’t you?"

"It is because you keep spouting nonsense."

"’Mine’ you say, but in what sense?" Slayer asked.

Arlan frowned, "You were better as a knight. Suddenly having you as a friend feels like such a pain in the ass."

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, a small fight had broken out, causing the tavern keeper and a handful of servers to deal with the incident. In order to help save time, Imbert and Azer were walking side by side, carrying their orders. Imbert got the six flagons of liquor on a huge tray, while Azer carried the plated dishes on his.

"Sir Loyset, let me carry some," Azer offered but the cold man merely glanced at him before ignoring him again.

Azer sighed and picked up one flagon from the tray. "I will carry this, so you can—"

Imbert increased his pace even before Azer could finish talking.

’Does he hate me? There’s no way, right?’ Azer followed him. ’I don’t know how exactly to communicate with him.’

As the knights served the ordered food and drinks on the table, Arlan immediately picked up a mug, filled it with dark ale and put it in front of Slayer. "You wanted to accompany me for drinks? Here you go."

Slayer stared at that frothy mug of ale. He was sure he would be done with one—no, just half a mug’s worth based on the strong scent alone. He had never been good with liquor, his tolerance even poorer than a skinny child.

"Are you scared now?" Arlan offered him a mocking smile. "Finish this one, and if you stay conscious even then, I will listen to whatever bullshit you say to me."

"Remember your words," Slayer spoke.

In response, Arlan poured himself another full mug, and in no time, he emptied it. As if he could not wait to drink, he refilled it and poured the second mug down his throat..

"Take it slow," Drayce commented, but the prince acted as if he didn’t hear it.