The night in Miragliano was as noisy as the day, though with a different colour palette. When the sun sank below the glittering horizon of the Tilean Sea, the city's vitality did not ebb, but rather seemed to be fuelled by something more primal and untamed. Oil lamps and torches cast flickering shadows on the narrow streets. Taverns, gambling dens, and some tightly shut, suspicious establishments lit their signs, attracting those who had worked hard or lay hidden during the day.
Vanguard Vintner was no exception.
The tavern was now a hubbub of noise. Mercenaries, having finished a day of drilling or idle waiting, gathered here to pass the time with cheap ale and even cheaper jokes; sailors, just off their pitching ships, eagerly sought the solidity of the land and the numbing relief of alcohol to banish the loneliness of the sea; occasionally, a few local minor nobles or bankrupt merchants, dressed somewhat decently but with a hint of ruin in their eyes, would seek momentary oblivion in the bottom of a glass.
Li Yiming was expertly busy behind the bar. Dressed in his slightly bleached apron, his movements were quick and precise. His hair was still tied in the Eastern style, but in a melting pot like Tilea, as long as you weren't a Greenskin or a horned monstrosity, people didn't pay too much attention to your appearance, especially when the drink you served was palatable.
"Hey, Cathayan lad! Another 'Emerald Wilds'!" roared a burly mercenary captain, a ferocious sea serpent tattooed on his thick arm.
"Coming right up, Captain Marco," Li Yiming answered, picking up a clean clay mug. He tapped half a mug of his improved ale from the special keg, cleverly added a few drops of extract from a certain wormwood, and finished with a mint leaf swiped across the rim. The mixed scent of malt and herbal freshness immediately diffused.
"Cathayan lad, your drink is good, but the name's a bit girly," Captain Marco took the mug, gulped down a large mouthful, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. "But it definitely beats Old Basso's piss-water from before!"
Li Yiming merely smiled, not arguing. He knew the temperament of these mercenaries—they were rude but not malicious. Besides, the name "Emerald Wilds" truly reflected his deep-seated yearning for a quiet, peaceful life, something utterly out of place in this environment.
Old Basso sat on a high stool in the corner of the bar, eyes narrowed like a dozing old cat. But Li Yiming knew he was keenly aware; no slightest disturbance in the tavern escaped his notice. Ever since Li Yiming's mixing skills gained the approval of more and more patrons, Old Basso was happy to take it easy, handing over most bar duties to him, while he focused on gathering intelligence and dealing with the truly "valuable" guests.
Just then, the tavern's weathered oak door creaked open.
A gust of chilly night wind rushed in, and the already noisy tavern fell silent for a second or two. The light at the doorway was dim, and against the backlighting, only two vague figures could be seen. One was unusually stocky and solid, the other relatively tall.
Li Yiming's gaze instinctively darted over. After working in the tavern for a while, he was highly sensitive to sudden silence, which often signalled trouble or unusual patrons.
The shorter, stout figure entered first.
When he stepped fully into the light, a faint gasp went through the tavern, and even the most garrulous mercenary subconsciously lowered his voice.
It was a Dwarf. But certainly not the common Dwarf Engineers or merchants seen in Miragliano.
He was nearly as tall as the bar, but his width was astonishing, as if he were a compressed block of granite. He was bare-chested, his bronze skin covered in intersecting scars, new and old, deep and shallow, each one seeming to narrate a bloody history. More striking were the blue tattoos on his body, complex and ancient runic patterns that stretched from his neck to his wrists, exuding a primal, mysterious aura.
His hair and beard were a fiery orange-red, braided into thick plaits and secured with polished metal rings. But the most chilling sight was the tall, crest-like shock of stiff, orange hair on his head—the mark of a Dwarf Slayer. He had only one eye; the other socket was a hideous scar, as if clawed out. That single eye gleamed with a near-mad determination and a boundless sorrow.
A huge axe, disproportionate to his size, was tucked diagonally into the massive leather belt that seemed fused to his body. Its blade shimmered with a dark, cold gleam, stained with old, dried dark-brown blood. Merely looking at the axe transmitted a palpable sense of menace.
He scanned the tavern in silence. Wherever his single eye landed, people swiftly avoided his gaze. The entire atmosphere of the tavern solidified due to his presence, as if the air had thickened.
Trailing right behind the Dwarf was a Human.
He was a head taller than the Dwarf, slender, and wore a decent but road-worn set of traveller's clothes. His dark-brown hair was slightly dishevelled, but his face was handsome, bearing a certain scholarly refinement. He also wore a longsword at his hip; the scabbard was plain leather, but the hilt was finely crafted. His eyes were sharp and curious, surveying the tavern's décor and patrons with interest, contrasting starkly with the Dwarf's almost predatory aura. A thick leather satchel, which appeared heavy, was slung over his shoulder, likely filled with books or scrolls.
Li Yiming's heart involuntarily clenched. The aura of that Dwarf reminded him of the fighting pits in Har Ganeth, and the Dark Elf warriors who sought glory in blood and death. No, the Dwarf's aura was purer, more despairing, and more... tragic.
The two walked straight toward the bar. The Dwarf was in front, each step heavy as stone, making the wooden floor groan under the weight. The young Human followed, his steps lighter, but his eyes held a subtle wariness.
"Ale." The Dwarf spoke, his voice like two grinding stones, low and hoarse, carrying an undeniable command. He slammed one large, calloused, scarred hand onto the bar with a muffled thud.
Li Yiming steadied himself, maintaining a professionally calm smile. "Welcome to the Vanguard Vintner, gentlemen. What can I get for you?" His gaze swept past the Dwarf's terrifying single eye and massive axe, finally resting on the hand placed on the bar. It was a hand that could easily crush a skull.
"The strongest." The Dwarf spoke again, succinct and direct.
"We have a fine Dwarf Ale, Bugman's Ale, very potent," Li Yiming recommended, this being the strongest ale in the tavern and a Dwarf favourite.
The Dwarf's single eye stared at Li Yiming for a moment, as if trying to see through him. Li Yiming felt immense pressure, but he didn't flinch, holding his smile. He had dealt with too many dangerous patrons; although this Dwarf was the most terrifying he had ever seen, he knew that the more formidable the situation, the less he could show fear.
"Good." The Dwarf uttered one word.
"And for you, sir?" Li Yiming turned to the young Human.
The Human smiled slightly, his expression carrying a hint of weariness, but he was still polite. "I'll take the same, thank you. After a long journey, something strong is needed to warm the bones." His voice was gentle and magnetic, a stark contrast to the Dwarf's roughness.
"Very well, please wait a moment." Li Yiming turned to prepare the drinks. He could feel the Dwarf's single-eyed gaze on his back, a tangible weight.
He took two of the largest tankards, wiped them clean, and went to the special keg marked with Dwarf Runes, skillfully drawing two large tankards of foamy, dark-coloured ale. This Bugman's Ale truly lived up to its reputation; merely smelling the rich malt aroma suggested its strength.
He placed the two tankards firmly in front of them.
The Dwarf snatched his tankard, tilted his head back, and glug-glug-glugged down most of the ale, his thick orange beard covered in white foam. He slammed the tankard down hard on the bar with a satisfied exhale. His expression seemed to soften slightly, but his fierce aura was undiminished.
The young Human was much more reserved. He picked up his tankard, smelled it first, then took a small sip, nodding in approval. "Excellent ale, indeed. Felix Jaeger, I salute you, barkeep." He raised his tankard, introducing himself.
"Li Yiming, sir," Li Yiming inclined his head slightly. "Just call me Li." He noticed the name Felix Jaeger sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't recall where he had heard it.
"Li..." Felix repeated, a flicker of curiosity in his blue eyes. "That sounds like an Eastern name. Are you from Cathay?"
Li Yiming's heart stirred slightly. This man seemed knowledgeable. "Yes, sir. I grew up in Cathay when I was young."
"Cathay, ah..." Felix's eyes showed longing. "A remote and mysterious land, I hear. Legend says there are cities paved with gold, fire-breathing Dragons, and mystics who wield incredible power."
Li Yiming smiled: "Legends tend to be exaggerated, sir. But Cathay is certainly a unique place." He didn't elaborate; the true situation of Cathay was too complex to explain in a few words, and he didn't want to talk too much about his past.
Just then, the silent Dwarf suddenly spoke. "Felix, less talk. Drink." His voice was still gravelly, yet his tone seemed devoid of annoyance, carrying instead the familiarity of an old friend.
Felix shrugged, giving Li Yiming a slightly apologetic smile. "This is Gotrek Gurnisson. He doesn't much care for conversation, especially when he's drinking."
Gotrek Gurnisson. Li Yiming silently repeated the name. He vaguely sensed that this name carried a weight unimaginable to ordinary people. He noticed that when Gotrek heard Felix introduce him, he merely grunted through his nose before returning to his ale.
"Are you two new to Miragliano?" Li Yiming asked casually while wiping the bar. This was one of his ways of gathering information.
"More or less," Felix replied, his gaze sweeping over the mercenaries in the tavern. "We just came from the south and plan to rest here for a few days to resupply."
"The south?" Li Yiming's heart picked up. "The Araby desert region?"
Felix shook his head: "Further south. Through the Badlands of the World's Edge Mountains. It was not a pleasant place, full of Greenskins and worse things." His brow furrowed as he spoke, indicating the experience was clearly not a good one.
Gotrek suddenly looked up, his single eye flashing fiercely: "Greenskin scum, not enough dead!" His voice was filled with deep-seated hatred.
Li Yiming noticed that as Gotrek spat out the words "Greenskin scum," the veins on the hand gripping his tankard bulged, as if he meant to crush the sturdy clay mug. The air around him seemed to drop a few degrees because of it.
A strange familiarity washed over Li Yiming. This level of burning hatred for a certain race was something he had seen far too much of among the Dark Elves. Yet, Dark Elf hatred was often accompanied by pleasure in torture and sadism, while this Dwarf Slayer's hatred was more like a burning, despairing flame, intent on consuming himself and his enemy together.
"Gotrek, calm down," Felix gently patted the Dwarf's arm, his tone gentle yet firm. "This is a tavern, not a battlefield."
Gotrek gave a heavy grunt, drained the last of his ale, and pushed the empty tankard toward Li Yiming: "Another one!"
Li Yiming quickly refilled it. He could sense that this Dwarf Slayer named Gotrek was like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment, and Felix was the person trying to put a lid on the crater. They were truly an odd combination.
Felix seemed to notice the probing in Li Yiming's eyes. He gave a wry smile, raised his own cup, and said to Li Yiming: "Gotrek... he has many stories. Most of them are just not suitable for sharing in a tavern."
"I understand," Li Yiming nodded. He himself had many stories he preferred not to touch upon. Everyone had their secrets and pain, especially in these chaotic times.
"Your drinks are good, Li," Felix changed the subject, pointing to the light green liquid in another patron's cup. "Is that something you mixed? It looks quite unique."
Li Yiming followed his gaze. It was his "Emerald Wilds." "Yes, sir. I prepared that with local ale and some herbs. Perhaps you'd like a change of pace?"
Felix's eyes brightened: "Oh? I'd be delighted to try it. Gotrek, would you like one too?"
Gotrek just shook his head, mumbling: "Dwarfs only drink Dwarf ale."
Felix chuckled helplessly: "Fine, then I'll enjoy it myself."
Li Yiming quickly mixed a glass of "Emerald Wilds" for Felix. He deliberately added a few crushed dried osmanthus flowers he had brought from Cathay, which would make the aroma richer—a small, personal touch.
Felix took the glass, first examining the clear, pale green liquid, then sniffing it close to his nose. A look of delighted surprise appeared on his face: "This aroma... it's very unique. The freshness of plant life, and a hint of faint floral fragrance? That's remarkable."
He took a small sip, closed his eyes, and savoured it. After a moment, he opened his eyes, his deep blue gaze full of admiration: "Splendid! The taste... crisp yet mellow. The sweetness of the ale is perfectly neutralized by the slight bitterness of the herbs, and the aftertaste has that elusive floral scent. Li, you are truly a talented mixologist!"
Li Yiming was slightly embarrassed by such direct praise: "You overpraise me, Mr. Felix. Just a few unrefined tricks."
"No, these are far more than tricks," Felix shook his head, taking another sip, looking pleased. "This is an art. I've never tasted such a distinctive drink in the finest taverns of The Empire. What is the name of this drink?"
"Emerald Wilds," Li Yiming replied.
"Emerald Wilds... A fine, poetic name," Felix complimented. "It's full of natural resonance. It reminds me of the rushing waters of the Reik, and those forgotten Elf ruins in the deep woods." He seemed lost in memory.
Gotrek, beside him, seemed impatient with Felix's fuss, but he didn't interrupt, simply concentrating on his Bugman's. However, Li Yiming noticed that the corner of Gotrek's single eye seemed to sweep toward the glass in Felix's hand, a hint of hard-to-miss curiosity in his gaze.
"Mr. Felix seems to have travelled many places," Li Yiming commented. He could tell from Felix's conversation and the knowledge he unconsciously revealed that he was no ordinary adventurer.
Felix gave a bitter smile: "Less travelling, more exile. I used to be a poet, somewhat famous in Altdorf. Unfortunately, due to certain... well, less-than-honourable incidents, I had to leave The Empire." His tone carried self-mockery and resignation.
"A poet?" Li Yiming was surprised. It was hard to link the armed traveler before him with the literary scholars who wrote of the moon and the wind. But he also knew that in this world, many people held complex identities.
"Yes, a poet," Felix raised his cup. "I once dreamed of using poetry to depict the beauty and ugliness of the world, to record the epics of heroes. Alas, reality is often far crueler than poetry, and much more... absurd." His gaze shifted to Gotrek, complex. "Now, I record a different kind of epic—a dirge forged in blood and steel."
Gotrek seemed to feel his gaze, looking up to meet his eyes. In the Dwarf Slayer's single eye, there was no glory, only endless battle and the yearning for oblivion.
A strange feeling arose in Li Yiming's heart. He felt as if he were witnessing two vastly different life trajectories interwoven by some unknown fate. A Dwarf Slayer seeking an honourable death, and an Exile Poet recording his tragic journey. This pairing, in itself, was an epic filled with tension and drama.
And he, Li Yiming, an orphan from the distant East, bearing a dark secret in his blood, now stood behind the bar, mixing their drinks and listening to fragments of their stories. The threads of fate, at this moment, seemed to be quietly linking him to these two unusual travelers.
"Your ale, and your listening, are both comforting, Li," Felix said sincerely, putting down his glass. "To find a tavern like this, and a mixologist like you, in this chaotic Miragliano, is a stroke of luck."
Li Yiming offered a faint smile: "It is my honor to serve you both. If you need anything during your stay in Miragliano, anything I know, I would be happy to help." His words were not entirely polite convention. He felt a strange affinity for these two; perhaps because of their unique temperament, perhaps because of Felix's kindness, or perhaps because of the tragic undertone in Gotrek that vaguely resonated with something deep inside him.
"Then we won't stand on ceremony," Felix laughed heartily. "Gotrek, it seems we've found a good place to anchor."
Gotrek didn't speak, simply pushing his empty tankard across the bar again.
Li Yiming understood, refilling it once more. He noticed that this time, as Gotrek drank, he no longer seemed to completely shut out his surroundings as before. His single eye occasionally swept toward Li Yiming. Though still assessing, the hostility seemed to have lessened considerably.
The night deepened. Patrons in the tavern came and went. Gotrek continued to drink Bugman's tankard after tankard, as if his stomach were a bottomless pit, yet he remained steady, only his cheeks slightly flushed. Felix, meanwhile, chatted casually with Li Yiming, covering topics from the customs of Tilea to the political situation in The Empire, and strange tales from their travels. Felix was knowledgeable and witty, which Li Yiming found immensely beneficial, giving him a more concrete understanding of the vast Old World.
Li Yiming found that while Felix was talkative, he was also discreet, never prying into his personal affairs, only occasionally expressing curiosity about his unique mixing methods and some Cathayan customs. Li Yiming was happy to share some harmless anecdotes while subtly avoiding the subjects he didn't want to touch.
In such conversations, a subtle understanding and friendliness quietly grew between the three. Though Gotrek was silent most of the time, when Felix spoke of certain battle scenes or encounters with powerful enemies, his single eye would flash, and he would occasionally interject with one or two concise but insightful comments, full of Dwarf roughness and wisdom.
Li Yiming realized he was not just serving two patrons; he was engaging in a silent exchange with two potential friends. This was a feeling he rarely experienced after fleeing Har Ganeth, drifting through Cathay, or even inheriting his adoptive father's caravan.
When Old Basso yawned, signaling the tavern was closing, Gotrek had consumed countless tankards of Bugman's but was still steady as a rock, only his cheeks slightly red. Felix was also a little tipsy, but his eyes were still clear.
"Li, thank you for your hospitality," Felix stood up, counting out a few silver pennies onto the bar. "Your ale and your listening have given us a pleasant evening."
"We'll be back," Gotrek rumbled, the first time he had spoken to Li Yiming outside of ordering a drink that night.
Li Yiming's heart warmed: "You are welcome anytime, Mr. Gotrek, Mr. Felix."
The two turned and left. Gotrek's stocky figure and Felix's tall figure quickly disappeared into the hazy night outside the door.
Li Yiming stood behind the bar, looking in the direction they had gone, motionless for a long time. He knew that the appearance of these two, the Dwarf Slayer and the Exile Poet, might cast a significant stone into the seemingly calm waters of Miragliano.
The gears of fate, at this moment, seemed to begin turning slowly. And he, Li Yiming, the survivor of the Boiling Sea, the Son of Har Ganeth bearing a dark-elf bloodline, stood at an unknown crossroads, awaiting the call of the path ahead.
His gaze fell on the tankard Gotrek had used, still smelling strongly of Dwarf Ale. He picked it up, as if he could still feel the strength and despair transmitted from the Dwarf's hand.
——
I have a patr-eon, and if you want to read ahead of schedule, you can head there → pa-tre-on.c-om/magnor (just remove the hyphen)
I'll be uploading 1 chapter per day, and every 100 power stones = a bonus chapter!