Chapter 115: A Polite Moranthal (2/2)

Ooooh…right right, that chump. It was said that the two greatest tragedies a person could suffer was the murder of their parents and having their spouse taken away. Today must’ve been a lucky day seeing as how we encountered two such cases in less than half a day.

I wonder what state of mind he is in right now, defiantly angry or perhaps he is drowning himself in alcohol as well. Probably the latter…

As if acting in accordance with my will, we found a young man who was definitely under the age of 25 sitting in the courtyard of Moranthal’s home, sullenly drowning himself in alcohol.

So this is rumored man who had his wife kidnapped. He seemed kind of handsome with his refined features, his faintly green hair that parted down the center flowed to his shoulders and most of all his fair complexion that would turn any woman green with envy.

While I did say that he was drowning in alcohol, his method of doing so was markedly more civilized that Io’s. At the very least, he wasn’t chugging at his wine bottles directly but instead used a small cup. Even so, his efficient drinking speed that seemed almost mechanical more than made up for the difference.

Somehow I have a bad feeling about this. A person who could give off that sort of impression while drinking wine from an almost teacup-like vessel would definitely be a much harder opponent to tackle than Io.

“Moranthal, do you need me to keep you company?” George asked, clearly not intending to use the violent method he used on Io. I bet it had something to do with his more civilized drinking style.

“…George?” Moranthal raised his head and looked at George with glazed eyes. After several seconds of staring, he finally verified the identity of that voice. With a faint hiccup at the start, he asked in a fairly lucid voce: “What are you doing here?”

“Naturally we have some matters to discuss with you.” As he said that, George walked into the courtyard and plopped himself down next to the man as if this was the natural thing to do. In a slightly teasing voice, he said: “So I heard you’ve been having some trouble lately.”

“*cough* What do you think?” Moranthal reached for a spare wine cup and filled it to the brim before gently pushing it before George. “So what are you here for? Don’t tell me you’re just here to make fun of me.”

“Hah, I don’t have that much free time to spare.” George picked up the cup and downed it in one gulp. He lowered the cup and waved his hand at us: “I’m sure you’re familiar with my brother and Kevin. Let me introduce these two to you.”

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After a short introduction, Moranthal signaled for us to sit, but as he did so, he discovered that there weren’t enough seats. He graciously went inside his house to retrieve a pair of chairs for us; unlike a certain someone who made us stand throughout the discussion.

Not bad…well-mannered, civilized…seems like he was raised well.

Moranthal swept his gaze over us; while it wasn’t a wary one, it wasn’t a curious one either. He asked in a fairly formal tone: “Ever since those bast*rds showed up, Plateau Village rarely has any visitors anymore, I’m sure these two have a story to tell.”

“Truth be told, this is what happened…” George picked up the question and roughly recounted our encounter with the bandits and their village.

Moranthal remained silent for some time, tapping the table with his fingers while he did so. A moment later, he slowly opened up his eyes and squinted at us. “You’re here to request for aid, aren’t you?” He said summarily.

“That’s right. If it hadn’t been for the time constraints, I would’ve hired some mercenaries instead.”

George answered in an unabashed tone, clearly not finding such a request to be embarrassing.

Having received such a definite answer, Moranthal took a sip of his wine and said in an extremely amiable fashion: “Alright then, you guys are free to recruit within this village. If anyone is willing to help, you’re free to take them with you.”

What an unambiguous stamp of approval. I wonder why I thought you would be more difficult than Io. I must’ve taken the wrong medicine today. So sorry about that, I’ve wronged you, you’re a really nice man.

Even though we had just received what was in my mind the best answer possible, George remained motionless in his seat and instead stared at Moranthal.

“Didn’t you say you were in a hurry? Why are you still sitting here?”

“You haven’t said that you’re joining us yet.”

“Oh me..” Moranthal picked up the cup with his right hand, and with a tilt of his head backwards, downed its contents. His left eye twitched as if something had gone in it. While maintaining his previous position of having the wine cup raised in his right hand, he rubbed his eye with his left.

After a period of rubbing, he casually threw out his answer under George’s withering gaze: “I’m not really interested in this.”

Me: “…”

Come to think of it, he did say we were free to recruit and not that he was willing to help us…which means…this bast*rd was toying with us from the start!! Damnit, how did I ever mistake him for a nice guy?!

This potato’s a tough nut to crack after all…

At the side, everyone had the same expression of having something stuck in one’s throat that couldn’t be removed.