Savior of a God (ErrInk)

Chapter 11 - Mug of Mead

Error's POV

  I entered Ink's bedroom, hoping that he was awake.

  A smile appeared on my face when I saw Ink sitting next to the fireplace.

  He was staring at the flames with what seemed like a expression filled with familiarity... yet confusion.

  Ink moved his head to me, giving a tiny smile before looking at the flames.

Me: Hey.

  I said in a quiet tone. He hummed to return my greeting.

Me: How are you feeling?

Ink: I have so many questions. Could I be thousands of years old? Why was I in that cocoon? How long was I in there?

  He said before curling into a ball. I placed my hand on his back. There was a silence between us.

  We listened to the crackles of the wood and watched the flames dance. A thought came to me.

Me: How about we go for a walk?

  Ink looked at me. His eyes looked magical, almost like a god. He looked at the floor and nodded.

(Time Skip)

  We walked throughout the village, letting Ink explore. People stared at the newcomer. Kids pointed at him.

  Ink gripped his arm in an anxious manner. I tried to comfort him.

Me: How about we go to the pub?

Ink: The pub? What's that?

Me: It's a place to get drunk and get punched in the face. Shall we go?

He thought for a second.

Ink: It sounds a bit concerning but yes.

He smiled at me, making me feel warm inside.

We walked to a large building that was located in the village square.

The pub was a lively place, filled with drinking mercenaries and singing bards. Beautiful women, pawlyns, and handsome men served both female and male warriors.

There was a large bonfire in the middle, surrounded by chairs and benches. The bar served alcohol, strong to get any man drunk.

I led Ink upstairs to get him away from most of the people. The upper floor was almost like a balcony, showing the bonfire and people below.

Ink and I sat in two chairs in the corner with a round table between us.

A pawlyn walked up to us, carrying two large wooden mugs filled to the brim with mead. Ink looked curiously as the cat walking on two legs.

She placed the mugs on the table, meowed, and then scampered off.

Ink: What creature was that?

Me: A pawlyn. They're a race of felines that mostly live in large forests. Some of them come here to fight or serve alongside us because they love the adventure.

  I took a sip from my mug of mead.

Me: There's a legend about them actually. They are send to be offsprings of a powerful female race that served the Creator. That's why they're depicted as cats in drawings of Egypt.

Ink: Wow.

He said with wonder at the legend.

There was silence between us as I had nothing else to talk about. I didn't want to bring up the cocoon as Ink was already confused about everything.

I looked at the mug, noticing that he hadn't touched it.

Me: You should drink your mead. It should help calm your mind.

Ink hesitantly gripped the handle.

Ink: Does it calm yours?

Me: Sadly no. For some reason, alcohol doesn't affect me in any way. It never did. I just drink it for the taste.

He hummed before putting his lips to the mug. He began to down the entire thing. My eyes widened in surprise.

  Ink placed the mug on the table after drinking the last of the mead. He grimaced at the strong taste of fermented honey.

Me: You're supposed to savor the taste.

  I said through small laughs. Ink looked down, almost ashamed of himself. I put my hand on his shoulder.

Me: Hey it's okay. You're not accustomed to our culture. It makes sense as I found you in a ruined civilization. You even have a different accent.

  I stopped when I finally realized it.

Me: But... you speak our language. How?

Ink went silent as I knew he didn't know the answer.

I went to speak again but I began to hear the loud rings of the castle bells...

The village was under attack