Canna approached the tavern that the old man had pointed out earlier. From the outside, it seed modest—a small establishnt nestled among the bustling port shops and sailors preparing for the day. However, the mont he stepped inside, he was greeted by a lively atmosphere that was surprisingly large for its humble exterior. The air was thick with laughter, chatter, and the sll of beer. n and won alike filled the seats, though n vastly outnumbered the won. It was clear that this was a tavern favored by the sailors who frequented the port.
Canna scanned the room, his sharp eyes cutting through the dim lighting. He was looking for soone, soone he had been told about—Captain Drennard, the legendary seafarer known not only for his unparalleled skills but for his eccentric habit of only accepting beer as paynt.
After weaving through the tables and dodging a few patrons who seed deep in their cups, Canna spotted the man at the far end of the bar. Drennard was slumped over a table, fast asleep, his face buried in his folded arms. He looked exactly like the description Canna had been given—unkempt, with scraggly hair and a thick beard that hadn't seen a brush in weeks. His clothes were tattered and worn, but they carried the weight of countless voyages.
As Canna approached, a sudden hush fell over the tavern. The laughter died down, and eyes turned to the newcor. All of them were watching him with curiosity, suspicion, and—above all—amusent. Canna was halfway to Drennard's table when a gruff voice called out from the corner.
"Lad," the voice was low and rumbling, coming from a man with a long grey beard and a tankard in hand, "you better not be doin' what I think you're about to do."
Canna stopped and turned to face the man. "What do you an? I was just going to wake him up."
At his words, the room shifted. n exchanged knowing glances, and then, almost in unison, they began clearing out the tables and chairs, leaving an open path from Drennard's table to the entrance of the tavern. It was like watching a well-rehearsed performance, one that had played out many tis before.
With his enhanced hearing, Canna caught the whispers that filled the room.
"Another one…"
"He's gonna be kicked out, just like the rest."
"These fools never learn."
Canna raised an eyebrow but shrugged. The reaction of the patrons didn't deter him. In fact, it only piqued his curiosity further. Ignoring their warnings, he continued his slow walk toward Drennard, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.
When he reached the table, Drennard was still fast asleep. Instead of shaking the man awake, Canna reached into his storage ring and produced a flask, placing it gently on the table in front of the sleeping captain. The patrons leaned forward, watching the scene with keen interest. They were waiting for the inevitable—Drennard waking up in a foul mood and tossing Canna out of the tavern like he had done to so many others before.
But Canna wasn't here to wake Drennard with just words. He had another plan. Discover exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire
With a smirk, he slowly unscrewed the cap of the flask, allowing the rich, heady aroma of the beer to waft into the air. It wasn't just any beer—this was the finest brew from Canna's sanctuary, a beer concocted by the joint efforts of the dwarves and researchers who had toiled for months to create the perfect blend. The mont the scent hit the air, the entire tavern fell silent. Patrons couldn't help but sniff the air, the sll of the beer so intoxicating that audible gulps could be heard throughout the room.
Drennard stirred.
Canna poured the beer into a mug, placing so ice inside to chill it. The mont the liquid hit the glass, Drennard's hand shot out, as if guided by instinct. His fingers wrapped around the mug, and without even opening his eyes, he lifted it to his lips and took a long, deep drink.
And then, chaos erupted.
Drennard's eyes flew open, glowing with a wild energy. As he gulped down the beer, water whips suddenly materialized out of thin air, lashing out in every direction. They knocked over chairs, splintered tables, and sent patrons scrambling for cover. One of the whips struck a shelf behind the bar, sending bottles crashing to the ground in a storm of shattered glass. Another whipped through the windows, causing them to burst outward with a crash.
The patrons didn't seem too surprised by this. In fact, most of them watched with an almost bemused expression, as if they'd seen it all before.
Drennard finished the beer in one massive gulp, slamming the mug down on the table as he eyed Canna with newfound interest. "Who are you," he demanded, his voice rough from years at sea, "and what in the depths is this drink?"
Canna grinned, clearly amused by the captain's reaction. "I know so people."
Drennard stared at him for a mont longer before letting out a booming laugh that echoed through the now-damaged tavern. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the mug down with care, as though the beer was a sacred treasure.
"What do you need?" Drennard asked, his tone shifting from curiosity to business.
"I need a ship," Canna replied, "and a captain. I've got so exploring to do."
Drennard's lips curled into a smile. "A ship and a captain, eh? You've got good taste in beer, lad. That's the finest brew I've ever had. Supply with more of this, and I'll take you wherever you want to go. No questions asked."
Canna's grin widened. The beer he had given Drennard wasn't just any ordinary drink. It was the result of months of research, a collaboration between the dwarves, who were passionate about alcohol, and the researchers of the sanctuary. The researchers, after being hounded by the dwarves for so long, had finally given in and devised what was now known as the "Greatest Beer." It had beco a favorite among the people of the sanctuary, though even Canna wasn't entirely sure what went into its making. The only thing he knew was that the dwarves had spent two months working on it day and night, experinting with a wide variety of ingredients from the sanctuary's unique flora and fauna.
Drennard stood up from the table, stretching his arms as though waking from a long slumber. Without a care for the damage he had just caused, he started heading for the exit, muttering sothing about checking the ship. Canna watched him leave with amusent before turning to the bartender, who was staring in dismay at the ss Drennard's water magic had caused.
Canna tossed a pouch of coins onto the bar. "For the repairs. Beers are on ."
The bartender opened the pouch and his eyes widened at the amount inside. When he looked back up, Canna was already gone.
Outside, Drennard was gathering his crew, shouting orders as they rushed to prepare the ship. Within a few hours, the ship was ready to sail, and Drennard, with a wide grin, called out to Canna as they prepared to embark on a new adventure. All it had taken to secure the services of a legendary captain was the finest beer in all of Sepra.
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