Chapter 83: The Real Drunken Hammer
They followed Balthor through the back door of the tavern, down a narrow hallway lit only by flickering wall-mounted mana stones. The sound of the main room—laughter, music, shouting—faded with each step.
"Are you sure he’s trustworthy?" Elena asked quietly, walking just behind Noel.
"He might look like a drunk... well, he is a drunk," Noel admitted, "but he’s good people."
His voice was calm, but something flickered behind his eyes.
’Yeah. Good people. I remember how he helped Marcus later on... when that bastard from the Circle came looking for blood. But now that I know all that ahead of time... he’ll be working for me instead.’
"Yeah," Noel repeated aloud. "He’s definitely good people."
Elena gave him a skeptical side glance. "Right..."
Balthor stopped in front of a reinforced iron door and pressed his hand against a rune-locked panel. A soft glow responded, and with a heavy click, the door creaked open.
The space beyond was nothing like the tavern they’d left behind.
Rows upon rows of weapons lined the stone walls—blades, axes, spears, even magical staffs, all mounted or suspended in enchanted bindings. Shelves overflowed with alchemical bottles, dusty grimoires, enchanted scrolls, armor pieces, charms, rings, and more.
Everything buzzed faintly with mana.