Glasstona Country, Royal Capital–
In the Royal Capital covered with thick walls, there are six main streets that radiate from the central castle.
The closer to the castle, the more famous aristocratic residences gather, and the further from the castle, the poorer people live.
There was “Mikadukitei”, which is loved by the residents in the neighbourhood, a part of the Royal Capital, which is located closer to the wall than the middle of the eastern main street.
As the sun goes down, the lamps on the eaves are lit with red lights, and by the time the sun goes down, the small interior of the bar is so crowded that all the tables are filled.
Although only cheap sake and simple dishes are served, the bar has been around since the father of the current owner, and there are many regulars who come back day after day.
Therefore, the regulars who go to Mikadukitei are sensitive to the faces that they do not usually see, especially those who see it for the first time, and they gaze at them from a distance with interest and a small sense of caution that they might threaten their paradise.
The fat man who is the owner of Mikadukitei raised his face, “Oh,” when an “unfamiliar face” sat in the corner of the bar.
There were two people at the table.
One was a man who moved to this neighbourhood about a year ago and was a drunk who had been to Mikadukitei many times.
He was a gambler and was always being chased by debt collectors.
The owner once advised him to work a little if he had time to spend his borrowed money drinking here, but he never seemed to listen to him.
So it was no surprise to him that the man came to the restaurant.
What was strange was that there was a person sitting in front of him with a hood over his head.
The person was apparently feminine.
He couldn’t see his face, but he’s petite and delicate, with thin hands removed from the sleeves of his cloak, and white enough to think he’s never been in the sun.
The bunch of hair spilling from the edge of the hood has a wonderful golden color.
The owner and the other customers in the restaurant were intrigued by this mysterious look.
The fact that the bastard gambler had a woman with him was intriguing in itself, and it was no surprise that she was hiding her face as if she was worried about being seen.
They were whispering secretly, as if they were having a private conversation.
The owner of the bar, who was alerted by one of the regulars, pretended to ask them for their order and approached them.
The man, a dull gambler long past forty, and the woman, a woman with her face hidden.
For people in this area, where entertainment is scarce, this was a good story.
There was no way he could pass it up.
“What would you like to drink?”
When the owner spoke to them, they stopped talking and the man asked for barley wine and boiled beans while the woman did not seem to want anything.
When the owner took their order and left, they resumed their private conversation in a whisper.
It seems that there is a reason for this.
Just as the owner was about to take the barley wine and beans, the woman put her leather bag on the desk and stood up.
The bag sounded terribly heavy, but what could it possibly contain?
The woman slips through the gaps in the table inside the narrow bar and quickly leaves, but the eyes of the customers focused on the man left behind.
The man puts the leather bag in his pocket with great care, looks up, smiles, and says,
“Bring me the finest liquor and meat available.”
The owner doubted his ears.
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