Chương 88: Quickie
(Yes, I know we're skipping something and yes, it's intentional)
Four more days passed with still no Tiffania, and Michael was starting to get annoyed. He'd visited around sixteen villages at this point, yet still nothing. Despite this, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something rather important.
He needed a break, that was for certain. Fortunately, there was a large town nearby according to the map, which would let him rest up and get some rest and gather his thoughts. There weren't any problems as he stumbles into town, though, people kept a wide birth due to the state of his clothing.
He'd done his best to bathe in streams and rivers to get rid of the smell of monster blood and his own musk from walking, so it wasn't his hygiene that was the problem. No, it was his ragged clothes that look as if they'd been passed through a wood chipper.
Despite how strong Michael was at this point, it didn't mean he was completely invulnerable. A swipe of a claw here, a peck of a beak there, and his clothes had slowly deteriorated. Fortunately, his financial situation wasn't all that bad, villages and towns he'd visited more often than not had extermination requests for monsters nearby.
The civil war had pulled many able-bodied men away from the countryside, and the presence of corpses allowed the number of monsters to gradually increase. More importantly, the lack of hunters and the presence of human corpses lead to more vicious monsters gathering.
Creatures like Goblin, Orcs, Ghouls and other scavengers replaced the horned rabbits and unicorns of the area, making formerly peaceful zones far more dangerous than they used to be.
This was a boon for Michael though, as he was able to hunt as he travelled, gaining EXP and Gold while helping the struggling communities that were hit hard by the war. That guard from Lochenter hadn't reported his killing of Dragons, so he was at least safe from being arrested for now, even if he was forced to lay low to avoid Cromwell and Sheffield.
Both were undoubtedly searching for him now that Wardes had failed to return. He didn't know if they assumed he was dead or not, but it was better to be safe than sorry... Michael refused to be captured by them again, even if he had to sacrifice entire towns and villages to avoid them.
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Four hours pass and Michael had finally finished his shopping run. He'd bought many pairs of clothing, both for summer and winter, along with a variety of footwear from sandals to boots. He tried looking for enchanted items, but this town wasn't rich or popular enough to attract such items.
He did, however, buy a new horse that he named after a not-much-liked journalist from his previous world, Piers Morgan. If asked why he did this he'd say they looked alike, but in reality, he knew the horse would likely die soon, so he just gave it a throwaway name.
Aside from that, he also bought two swords, one double-edged bastard sword and one sword somewhat resembling the sabre he'd bought in Antomiers. He stored the bastard sword in his inventory for now however and left the rest of his stuff in his inn room as he went to the local bathhouse to soak for however long he felt like.
Unfortunately, Michael hadn't realised that the bathhouses of his period were most akin to brothels... As soon as he entered the wooden basin filled with hot water, he was approached by average-looking women to see if he needed any of their 'services'. While they didn't say it explicitly, their intentions were as obvious as if they were saying, "We'll let you rail us for some cash."...
And Michael, being the bastion of human decency and respect obviously refused... Right?
No. He paid for them to serve him with their mouths as he was a bit too scared of whatever diseases women of this place had. Sure, his Dark Pact might be able to remove it if he gets infected, but prevention was still his favoured method.
One surprisingly embarrassingly quick session later, Michael shuffled out of the bathhouse feeling both satisfied and self conscious. It was his first sexual encounter though, so he didn't feel too bad. Plus, it did take his mind off of things temporarily, allowing him some degree of relaxation.
Needless to say, Michael fell asleep in his room not long after his 'massage' in the bathhouse. Unfortunately, the common trend of nightmares continued, even after a day of relaxing in the town.
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Michael opens his eyes after falling asleep and finds himself exactly where he didn't want to be... His body was holding a tray filled with drinks and was going from table to table in the throne room serving the various nobles who were present.
Some ignored him, some mocked him, and some even endeavoured to attack him. Smacking the tray he was holding and causing it to fly out of his hand, causing Sheffield to punish him for his failure.
*Splash!*
Michael is taken off guard as alcohol is thrown in his face, getting into his eyes before his body is able to blink. Despite the burning pain now tormenting him however, his body just stands still in an attentive stance, unable to go against Sheffield's orders.
"Hmph! This dog doesn't even have any fun reactions... It's like hitting a golem!" the woman responsible for throwing her drink at him complains, the people around her nodding in affirmation as the original amusement had slowly begun to run its course.
A portly man at the side gives a grin that sends a shiver up Michael's spine. He'd experienced this before, so he knew what was coming next... "If a reaction is what you want, how about I give you all a show?" the man asks, causing the other nobles to turn to face him.
"And what would this 'show' involve, Baron Jargkon?"
Jargkon can't help but chuckle as he stands, "Lady Sheffield, Would you please call in my gifts for this evening?"
Sheffield nods, sending sideways glances towards Michael as the doors open and many guards drag in a group of ragged-looking people.
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Niggross
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