One More Mug: Four Views

“Remember, betrayal is good if you are doing it,” the huge, hulking man muttered to the grizzly-looking woman walking behind him as they approached the tavern.

“Slayer, serve the gold…” He paused.

“…Never the throne, Chief.”

The Slayer stared ahead numbly. Weeks ago, she had taken a bounty under the same principles, one that still lingered heavier than the gold it paid.

The child had not screamed very long, nor had her body moved afterward.

As the Chief barged into the tavern, only the staff and two men waited inside.

One was an impeccable prince dressed in silks untouched by travel. The other was a broad-shouldered captain whose posture remained rigid even while seated. Between them stood a table prepared for four, though only two drinks had been poured.

“Pleasure to meet you,” the Prince greeted warmly, rising from his seat with a practiced smile. “Come, the drinks are on us. We have matters to discuss.”

Beneath the Prince’s polished smile rested principles not unlike the Chief’s own.

“Bring me the largest and most expensive ale then!” the Chief roared, his laughter nearly shaking the tavern walls. “I believe we are going to get along just fine!”

The Slayer ordered nothing and quietly took her seat, an arm’s reach from the Chief.

Since the moment she entered, the Captain’s eyes had remained fixed on her. No words passed between them, though she could already feel herself being measured.

The leaders sat across from one another, their right hands beside them. The Prince signaled the staff to close the tavern and lock them inside.

As the staff brought the ale for the Chief, he began chugging it down, but the Prince ignored the rough manners and began their talk.

“I am glad to have you here, Chief. I believe you have heard of the upcoming war from the West?”

The Chief lowered his ale and looked smug, knowing that anything went and no one had stopped him yet.

“I have, and gotten invited to meet up or join the enemy if I wish.”

He studied the Prince closely. The Prince remained steady, though the Captain’s eye twitched for the briefest moment before both men recovered. Only the Slayer noticed it, quietly wondering how many others had already received similar offers.

The Prince chuckled as he offered, “If I may propose, you and my men have numbers, and we can talk on doubling what they have offered… after their defeat.” The Prince poured the Chief another round, trying to lower his guard. “Surely you have heard the word… plunder.”

The Chief’s brow lightly raised as he pulled back his mug.

“…I am listening.”

“Tell us the offer they gave you, we match it, after the war, we take what’s theirs, we share it, and everyone is happy.”

The Prince took a slow sip afterward, meeting the Chief’s gaze without hesitation.

“If I may, your highness,” the Captain interfered, “what can they offer to our kingdom when a unit of our finest can take on ten—?”

He stared at both men as his distrust of the Chief bled through him.

The Chief, offended by his words, slammed his hand down, causing everything on the table to shake and stopping the Captain from finishing his thought.

“You’d better be careful with your words, lackey. In front of you is one of the reasons your numbers are few after encountering us.”

The Slayer stared at the Captain, but the Captain sensed no malice from her. Only a familiar kind of grief.

“My apologies for the behavior of our Captain, he just wants to make sure that everyone, including your group, is in their top shape. I assure you, this Captain of ours is no pushover.”

The Prince moved quickly to reclaim control of the room before tempers fully ignited, though inwardly he cursed the Captain’s pride for nearly complicating the negotiation.

The Chief lowered his temper, slowly pulling back his hand, though hostility still lingered in his eyes toward the Captain.

The Captain looked half-apologetically at the Chief and answered, “I spoke out of place, Chief. I only wish to make sure the best of our men are in front,” and defended his stance with proof of his leadership. “I have trained the finest knights out here, and those unable to uphold their duty and glory are removed and renounced as their own…”

The final words lingered heavier than the Captain intended.

At the last part of his statement, the Slayer sensed something in his words and asked, breaking the silence of her presence.

“Was it worth it, removing them…”

The Captain shifted his gaze from the Chief to the Slayer. As their eyes met, both recognized a familiar weight in one another.

“I am only human, but it is what I am supposed to do.”

The table went quiet as the Slayer, Captain, and even the Prince let the moment process, but the Chief lightly hit the table with his mug, taking their attention as he wanted to discuss the agreements he would soon break.

“My men can take on this war alone already, including this kingdom, but I am here to offer protection.”

The Chief took his empty mug and offered it to the Prince for another pour.

“So can you afford to?”

The two leaders exchanged agreeable smiles as the Prince refilled his mug.

“Tell me,” he asked calmly, “how much did they offer?”

Slowly, the Prince filled the Chief’s cup as the mercenary answered with what he believed was an absurd demand.

“Thirty chests filled with gold and weapons.”

The bottle ran out before filling the cup, making the Chief look at it with disappointment, but the Prince gently raised his hand to bring more.

“We got those, and even more.”

Two more bottles were brought out and placed before the Chief, their glass glimmering beneath the tavern candles.

“If you do wish, we could include ten horses carrying the chests as promised, ten that you can ride into this war and keep afterward, but you have to lead the charge.”

The Prince offered to make them the front line of this war.

“But your highness, the horses are su—”

The Prince silenced the Captain with a raised hand.

Calmness remained on his face, though inwardly irritation had begun to settle. Twice now, the Captain’s pride had nearly endangered the negotiation.

“Gold and glory? I am sorry to say this to you, Captain, but watch us finish this war as you cower behind.”

He challenged him further.

The Prince watched the two carefully, quietly hoping the Captain’s pride would finally bend. Gold could always be recovered. Men could not.

“Enough, sir, the Captain has been against us if you can see,” the Slayer spoke up, making the hairs on the Prince’s neck rise as he feared his plan might fail now.

“Oh, I know, that’s why I would like to demand that instead of us coming to your kingdom for the payment, I would personally request our dear Captain and his cavalry to deliver them to my camp.”

The Chief leaned back, waiting for the Prince’s answer.

Before the Captain spoke another word, the Prince agreed to the terms.

“Of course, contents like that should be handled carefully for our dear… friends…”

Beneath the table, the Prince stepped firmly on the Captain’s foot.

“Very well… your highness.”

As he agreed, the weight was lifted, the Prince’s foot from the Captain’s, and the burden of his plan from his own shoulders.

The Chief happily stood up as he knew he had won.

“Then I am glad to comply with your terms. We will be waiting at our camp. Come, Slayer, and bring the bottles.”

She grabbed both bottles that were given and followed the Chief as he walked out of the tavern.

Before exiting, the Chief felt pity and gave the Prince a gift.

“Your highness, before we part truly, I would like to say our mantra as a gift: ‘Serve the gold, never the throne.’ What you did today really got us. Until then, I am looking forward to the Captain’s arrival.”

He fully exited the tavern.

The Prince waved goodbye to the Chief, quietly satisfied that his own men would survive at the expense of theirs, but he noticed the Slayer was still preparing to leave.

The Slayer looked at the two before disappearing and said coldly to them, clueless to what they had truly played into.

“Make sure the gold is worth serving.”