Strongest Grimoire Of The Gods

Chapter 172: Asking For Directions

The first place Tyr entered was a tavern deeper inside of the town. It was the largest one he had seen, so naturally, it caught his attention.

The half-doors swung open as he stepped inside the dimly lit bar.

The establishment was lively with chatter, as expected. Many men and women sat around tables spread across the floor, most boasting in a drunken state.

The bar was large, with close to 50 large tables and several dozen duplet seating arrangements as well.

Four large wooden pillars stuck out near the center of the room.

At the very back was a long bar table with tall barstools and a marble counter.

Behind the counter were shelves filled with high-grade spirits, fine wine, and barrels of booze.

Noticing a bartender working the table alone, Tyr decided to head straight over and ask for directions to the Ten High Peak Faction.

'Should be pretty straightforward...' Tyr said to himself as he began to move toward the back.

As he made it halfway to the bar table, a few wooden floorboards below him creaked loudly, and a few rough-looking men cast wary glances his way.

Tyr made eye contact with the men for less than a second before moving on. 'They've been making the most noise since I've entered this place...' He thought for a moment, exhaling.

'I'll just get my directions and be on my way.'

He arrived at the bar table, barely able to focus on the bartender due to the chaotic noise all around him.

The bartender was a middle-aged man with weary eyes and a nervous demeanor, constantly juggling orders from what Tyr could see.

He cast a slight glance at Tyr before being ordered by a person at the bar table.

"Oi!" A woman yelled from across the long counter, "Give me another pint of the ginger!"

"O-oh, yes!" The bartender rushed to serve the woman, when a man from the opposite end called out again:

"Hey! A refill on this end as well!" He shouted, prompting the bartender to urgently turn around with sweat trickling from his brow.

The man looked to his friend before they both had a chuckle at the situation.

Finally, the bartender rushed toward Tyr, "How can I help you, sir?" he said, wiping the sweat from his face with a rag.

Leaning against the table, Tyr calmly spoke, "Hey, do you by chance know the fastest way I can get to the Ten High Peaks Faction?"

The bartender glanced up, startled by what he had just heard.

After a short pause, he vaguely gestured toward a certain direction in one of the corners of the tavern.

Without turning his head, Tyr's eyes glanced in that direction, noticing that same group of rough-looking adventurers from before who were making a scene.

Tyr's eyes returned to the bartender's, as the man behind the counter awkwardly gulped and coughed out:

"Uh... I'll see what I can do. But... you might want to wait until those guys in particular are out of here first. They... don't take kindly to outsiders, you know?"

Tyr raised a brow, "Outsiders? How did you know I was--"

Tyr paused as the bartender poured a shot of clear spirit in a glass, filled it up with ice, and slid it across the table to the young man in front of him.

"My lucky charm?" The bartender winked, only to be met with an unimpressed look from Tyr.

He harrumphed, quickly adjusting his response: "No one from Eldraemar would ask such a question, as you have asked today."

'Huh... that makes sense.' Tyr mused for a split second before saying, "Look... I'll be able to handle myself. Put yourself at ease."

The bartender frowned, but noticed that Tyr's straight expression didn't seem to be disappearing any time soon.

'He's serious...' the bartender thought, finding a bit of safety in Tyr's confidence, if only just for a moment.

'Still... it's natural for an outsider I suppose. I won't be the reason this young man loses his life...' the bartender said to himself in a determined tone.

"I wish I could help you... but those men are not from any old gangster group. They are members of the Bruther Clan. Guards of the noble family that rules this city..."

Before Tyr could respond to this, a voice barked from the corner: "Oi, Yusef! Come over 'ere and pour us a drink!"

The bartender instantly responded to this order, as if he was a robot programmed by that command: "Y-yes!"

He seemed to forget about Tyr's existence, instantly moving toward the loud table in the corner.

Tyr sighed, sitting down as he took a sip of the spirit he received.

He made a slightly sour face, 'Bleh... tastes like pure hand sanitizer.' He placed the glass down, glancing at the group of noisy men one last time.

They were visibly tough and were causing quite a scene with their incessant jeers and taunts to others in the bar.

They were dressed in a mix of worn-out and also brand new mismatched adventurer's gear.

It was pretty obvious that they had gotten these 'special' new pieces from a few unsuspecting victims recently.

Their weapons were slung over their chairs, and coins were scattered on their table.

As they continued to drink, their voices got louder and even more obnoxious.

What stood out to Tyr was the fact that they looked to have forced the bartender into a game of bets, taking turns tossing coins at him and mocking him every time he fumbled or missed. Continue reading at m|v-l'e -NovelBin.net

Each time he caught the coin, he was allowed to keep it, but each time he missed, they would ridicule him in front of everyone and take their coins back.

One of them flung a coin at the bartender's forehead, striking him right in the glabella and leaving a deep red mark.

"Hahaha!" The man burst out laughing, "Are you retarded or something? Can't you catch a simple coin!?"

As the table laughed, people from other tables also seemed to enjoy the show.

Tyr took another sip, observing the situation unfold in behind him.

The bartender's shoulders tensed up with humiliation as the men around him continued to harass him for being too slow.

A scar-faced man leaned forward, grabbing the bartender by the back of the neck and breathing stinking hot breath in his face as he said:

"Come on, my little bitch... catch the coins already. I'm losing my streak here... I bet you would catch at least ten by now."

The bartender remained frozen with fear, barely able to whimper a stuttering reply, "Y-yes sir..."

The group suddenly burst into laughter again on hearing this.

"Pahaha! Sir, he calls you!"

"This man has more politeness in his heart than cells in his brain!"

"What a boot licker..."

"Are ya' gonna drink my piss next!? Ahaha!"

The bartender had no clue what to do in this moment.

The many eyes piercing at him made him feel stunned with humiliation, and each insult that was flung his way hit him like a brick to the head.

It was horrible in every way, and he had no choice but to stand there and take it.

By this point, most of the bar had gathered around this table, laughing as they partook in watching the abuse of the bartender.

There were only a couple of others who still remained seated, and one of them was Tyr, who was patiently waiting for the bartender.

Noticing this, one of the men at the table, a burly guy with jagged teeth, stopped laughing and squinted at Tyr.

"Hey, you! The loner!" he yelled across the room, loud enough to draw attention. "You think you're better than us? Sitting there all high and mighty?"

...