Asher was momentarily stunned by the sight before him. It was still only 11 a.m., yet these men were already gathered, drinking without a care in the world, as though they lived in a perpetual state of bliss.
Weapons could be seen resting on the tables, hanging at their waists, or strapped to their backs.
'It seems they've been here since last night,' Asher mused, glancing around at the shattered wooden cups strewn across the floor and a few left abandoned atop the tables.
'I wonder if they could outdrink dwarves,' he thought absently. But dwarves didn't exist in this world, so there was no way to truly know.
With that idle thought, he walked towards the counter with steady, composed steps. Behind it stood a bartender, wiping a wooden cup with a black towel in hand.
