Read Brave Men Die: Part 2 for Free Online Page B

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    Devilin indicated to his brother to head for the only available table in the corner of the room. It had been left that way because the minstrels were performing so close to it. Their tunes filled the air, half muffled by the talk and laughs of the patrons, but as they got closer they knew it for what it was: noise. Edrazil pushed his way through, not caring when he had to raise his voice or barge into people to make progress.
    Devilin headed for the bar and stood beside a man who was slouched over his drink, muttering to himself. Disgusted by the sight of the drunkard — what a waste of existence — he tried to catch the eyes of the woman serving the drinks behind the bar. Just as she turned, another man yelled for her attention and she turned to him.
    Scowling, Devilin looked around the bar at the half drunk men who sat over their ales, who came here by themselves to do nothing but drown their sorrows and piss away their pay. The ones at the tables were here with friends, come for a chat and a laugh. His thoughts turned to how he could get the woman’s attention as more patrons kept her at the other end of the bar.
    Frustrated, Devilin kicked the stool out from under the drunk beside him. His yelps for help as he flew back through the air got the attention of everyone at the bar. The woman looked at him, moved closer to see if the drunk was alright.
    ‘I’ll have four beers,’ Devilin said before she could ask if the drunk was okay.
    She looked a little shocked that he’d placed an order while the man was having trouble getting to his feet so Devilin made the effort to reassure her.
    ‘He didn’t hurt himself, nothing is broken. Drunks, what are you going to do about them?’ He smiled.
    The woman smiled back and started pouring his drinks. The froth leaked over the rim of each mug and Devilin handed over his money when she put all four up on the countertop. Grabbing two in each hand he headed toward Edrazil but nothing was ever easy and a drunk approached him and offered to take some of the drinks off his hands.
    He dropped his eyes and stared at the man, thought about his options if he actually tried to claim one of the drinks. Avernus’ stupid rule about not going out in Alvista with a sword strapped to your waist was starting to get on his nerves. Devilin could take out his legs or smash one of the mugs over the man’s head — let him try.
    The drunk did a double-take of the beer, then looked again at the stare Devilin was giving him and finally thought better of it and left, stumbling off to bother the group at the closest table.
    Devilin sat down and pushed the two mugs in his left hand over to Edrazil, and put the first one to his lips. His throat bulged as he skolled the beer down, planting the empty mug on the table before him. Seconds after Edrazil did the same with his and started to slowly sip at the second.
    ‘How is your arm?’ Edrazil asked.
    Devilin glanced at the wound under his shirt, he could still feel the bandage tightly wrapped around it. The wound was deeper than he thought, the Prince was a decent swordsman — it had been a good fight.
    ‘It’s fine. Feeling better already,’ he lied.
    ‘Do you think that Avernus’ plan will work?’ Edrazil asked.
    ‘It’s just crazy enough to. I’ve already heard rumours that there is fighting in the Callisto Mountains. The Kyzantines haven’t waited long before getting some revenge.’
    ‘How have you heard that already? Avernus hasn’t even mentioned it.’
    Devilin shrugged. ‘I’ve got my sources.’
    Indeed he did. Avernus didn’t like anyone mixing outside the Seraphim but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Devilin knew a few people that knew some people. It was always good to have some contacts out of your immediate circle. It meant it was easier to disappear or obtain information. Things that often needed to be done in his line of work.
    ‘Have the Murukans responded?’
    ‘To the bloodshed in the mountains or the