Chapter 11 11: Kill the Hero (7)

The Dragon's Belly was hot with the stench of alcohol. "Buh-hic... b-bring me... an-hic... anotheeeerrrr...!" "Gahahaha...! Kala's gonna push even further, eh...? Go, go, our Hero...! You can do it! Fourteen-- no, fifteen! Go all the way...! We believe in youuu~!" "This guy... Oi, don't enable it, man. Even if he's the Hero, hasn't he had way too much already? Let's tone it down a few notches. Isn't that right, J-- w-woah, you okay...?" "The bet... My coins... They're all... gone... No... NOOO...!!" 'Ah. Rip...' Sipping on a mug of juice that tasted like blackcurrant, which I discovered to be quite a common drink in this place, I watched the spectacular scene in front of me with amusement and relative peace of mind, or at least as much as I could have in this situation. We've been in the tavern for a good number of hours now, and as is evident, some things have gone down in that time. Most notably, the Hero was in the midst of consuming his fourteenth pint of Challengers' Ale... or was it fifteen now? One of the two, anyway. To be honest, I was partly surprised that he hadn't already died or at least passed out, but that's the power of the Hero for you, I guess. In fact, I considered his state to be rather odd. Yesterday, the Hero had a total of six pints, and even then he was considerably tipsy. Bearing in mind he was drinking over two times that amount tonight, I thought it astonishing he hadn't blacked out completely. I entertained the theory that his divine power, or perhaps more precisely his resistance to toxins, might grow stronger the more intoxicated he grows, but I wasn't sure how accurate that exactly was. As for the rest of the party, well, a few tables were holding some drinking and betting games, and this is how it turned out―one of the seniors was also irrevocably drunk; one of them was holding off to be "the responsible one"; and the third was drowning in regret and lamentation over his participation in said betting games. Needless to say, I stayed well out of the way of it all. I wasn't particularly a stranger to drinking, but I also never liked the bitter taste of alcohol in the first place, and considering what it was I needed to do, I thought I should keep as clear a mind as possible. Well, I say that, but to be honest I didn't know if my drink had alcohol in it or not. Either way, it tasted just like juice, and I didn't feel like I was getting drunk, so it was fine. Although, depending on how you look at it, maybe having a bit of drunken empowerment was just the sort of thing necessary to get through this... or at least, to complete the Contract. In the end, I was hoping they would push further, but the collective decided to stop when the Hero had concluded his fifteenth drink... or maybe it was sixteen. In the eyes of the knights, we still had a day of training ahead of us tomorrow, so we couldn't completely inundate ourselves with this night of debauchery. Perhaps that was for the best. Most of all, the Hero really seemed like he might collapse at any moment, even beginning to stumble wildly as he rose from his seat, so the responsible senior heavily urged us to leave before it was too late. He didn't say it explicitly, but I had a feeling he didn't think the Hero would fall from just this much, merely using it as an excuse to get us back to the barracks. I was also doubtful, but looking at him now, I wasn't sure that anything could wake him up if he fell over. "Alright, I'll take these fools back to the quarters. Will you be alright alone with the Hero, Junior? He appears to be... struggling a bit." Flashing a smile, I nodded. "Yes. I'll be alright." "Good lad... Then, I'll see you for training tomorrow. 'Twas a merry night. Much gratitude." "Yes, thank you. See you tomorrow, Senior." Stepping outside, I and the Hero parted ways with the senior knights. For a brief moment, my gaze lingered on their swaying backs as they headed towards the barracks, the responsible one standing between the others with his arms hooked round their necks and shoulders to keep them on track. It didn't take long before they disappeared from view entirely. Thereafter, we headed towards the Hero's private quarters, which lay in another direction. With the Hero's arm wrapped around my shoulders, I supported his body as we hobbled through the narrow cobblestone streets, appearing dim beneath the overcast moonlight. Just like the night I observed before appearing here, the air was terribly cold. For some reason, however―perhaps due to the thickly-padded clothes I wore―it was just a little more bearable. "Ughhhhh... Li-little knight... Listen... to me... to my... words..." "Yes?" Perhaps thanks to that frigid, sharp air sobering him up slightly, the Hero surprisingly managed to squeeze his words out somewhat properly. Of course, he still couldn't stand on his own. "Youuu... You've been a rrrreeal, yes...? Real good to me, little knight... gah... seri-...ously..." "Have I? I feel like I've only been doing my duty. You're the Hero, aren't you?" One might wonder why I didn't just take the dagger out of my bag and take him on right here, but I can answer that curiosity with the fact that the Hero's blade is still firmly attached on his hip. There was no need to risk anything by attacking him here, even if he was debilitated with alcohol. Besides, it wasn't uncommon knowledge that being suddenly thrusted into an emergency situation is one of the best ways to sober you up in an instant. There was no need to be hasty, anyway. 'Just hold on a bit longer.' Fortifying my patience, the Hero's slurred, incredibly drunken voice emanated from beside me. "No one! Treats me like you do, little knight..." "Mhm." "Yeeesss... You are... a good one, the, uh, a... a good... Mmnm--eh..." With such incoherent mumbles―utterly reeking of alcohol―right next to my face, I subtly turned my head and crinkled nose to the side to replace the stench with fresh, albeit bitter, night-time air. "Little knight...! Little... Oh, my little! Littlessst of knightsss..." "..." "Little knight! The only one who... who understands me... truly..." "...Careful where you're walking. You need to rest." "Ye-yeahhh~ Let-- let us! Rest... that's right! However...? Little knight, little knight, why, I wonder, are you... you are, coming to where I sleep... Yes?? I apologise, but I'm not... not like that... you knowww...? I like women! Yes... big, voluptuous, buxom ladies! Stupid fool..." 'Jesus Christ...' For some reason, he was beginning to get on my nerves. "Let's stop speaking nonsense now. Look, we're almost there." Before long, we arrived at the Hero's private quarters, and the very first thing I did after shoving him through the door was lay him on his bed, which even at a glance was far superior in quality to my own. Collapsing into that evidently soft, pleasantly pliable mattress face first, he then addressed me from that awkward spot. "Oof... Little knight, would you put my... my precious sword... in its rightful place...? Place it by the hold there, yes... and make sure! Make sure you... you get no... absolutely! None! None at all! No scratches...! By the, uh... uh, di-divine Goddess' will... yes...?" After getting all that out, he unclipped the sheath of his sword from his waist and pushed it my way all without even raising his buried head from the sheets. Glancing at the eye-catching sheath, I gulped, reaching my hand quietly forth. "Sure I can. You get some rest now, alright?" "Yes yeeees, I get it, little doggy! Thank you, so, for your service, my little... little knight..." Immediately after that, the only sound to be heard was intermittent snoring. Gazing down at the Hero's sword which had entered my hands, stored in its distinctive white-and-gold sheath, I quietly attached it to my own waist before placing down the backpack I had carried with me all evening. Unzipping it, I withdrew the stolen dagger from within. For a moment, I considered using the Hero's sword instead, but quickly dismissed the idea; although it was surprisingly light when I held it, I didn't think something so ornate could possibly be of any greater use, not for what I was about to do. So, I just took that basic steel dagger, its hilt cold in my grasp, and I stared deeply into the sparsely-chipped surface of its blade―a grey, blurry reflection of my own face looked back at me through the mirror provided by the light of the pale moon peering through the window. Was that the expression of someone who was about to become a murderer? "..." In an effort to anchor my trembling, I gripped the hilt tightly with two hands and took a deep breath. ...This was it.