Waynack

A Strange Foreigner

Camelot, the beautiful and glorious kingdom stands tall as the bright beaming light of the gods pours out onto the blessed empire. The castle towers over the many high-class buildings, all sculpted by expert magicians and the most expensive artists in all of Kosmos. 

Even the brothels and taverns draw nobles and aristocrats to even the filthy men who have nothing more than straw and saliva stuck in their pockets. 

Currently, a quite popular tavern has more than its fair share crowded within it.

"Barkeep!! Another drink!!" A man clothed in black yelled out, just loud and obnoxious enough so the rest of the tavern could hear him boast for another drink.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere by now?" The bartender asked.

"Don't worry... Just let me have—Another drink!!"

"You're just embarrassing yourself at this point..."

Alcohol was quite the drug, permeating deep into the soul of this individual who appeared to be of a rather high class. 

He wore a finely sewn black cloth shirt, along with cotton black pants and the shoes of a nobleman, shoes that speak volume just from a glance, quite the gothic set up for someone who appeared to be from a privileged background. He also accompanied his tasteful outfit with a necklace, an obscure one at the very least, a silver circular necklace with a symbol of darkness dangling from the spotless chain. Maybe it was just his own personal taste, but something that wasn't ordinary, to say the least. 

Even his finely cut hair spoke of a comfy cushion of loons (the currency within Kosmos). Quite glossy for black hair that was freshly cut, and a bit spiky, almost stubby but more than just that. The glasses that accompanied his clean face spoke of a scholar, maybe that was the source of his obvious privilege.

The man, quite embarrassed after forcefully acknowledging so from the barkeep's words, glances back, and notices that the flock within the tavern is all focused on him as if it were a theatrical premiere of King Arthur's life story. 

He carelessly looked back at the barkeep, the alcohol had more effect on his response than the shame of being intoxicated in public.

"I know... Another one for me—and everyone else!!!!"

The bar suddenly changed their tasteless judgment that they silently threw at the hopeless drunk into excitement, and displayed quite the charity for the gladiator who fought against them just a minute ago.

"YEAH!!!" The bar swiftly burst into a joyful ovation, similar to a crowd thirsty for blood in a sold-out colosseum.

"Fine, but this one isn't going on your tab..." The bartender said.

"Don't worry. I'll pay for all these drinks and more!!"

A few onlookers within the tavern began to converse as the boastful drunk demanded a full round of drinks for him and everyone else within the tavern.

"Wow, what a generous fella."

"Hm? This your first time here or something? He does this every time, you know."

The barkeep grew irritated from the boastful empty demands from the exclusive drunk, only ever showing up to this tavern every other phase of the moon.

"You better pay this time, Pierre."

"When have I ever left this place without paying?"

"Every damn time you cheap bastard!!"

"All I'm giving out is ale, take it or leave it!" the barkeep grouchily added.