Chapter 6 — The Drink

Dre and Morgan walked into the bathing room.

“Pretty spacious, huh?”

“Yeah. Too bad it’s not showers.”

Morgan pulled his shirt off.

Dre had noticed Morgan seemed to be in good shape before, but the dude was ripped.

There were scars across his abdomen and one on his chest.

Morgan noticed Dre’s gaze.

“I.E.D. in Baghdad. After that, I took a round through my chest. Almost lost my lung.”

Morgan turned around to grab a towel.

Even more scars covered his back.

They didn’t look like scars from shrapnel or bullets.

They looked like torture.

One scar stood out enough to make Dre shift uncomfortably.

“Rough childhood too,” Morgan said. “Don’t ask.”

Morgan wrapped the towel around himself.

“You getting in clothed?”

Dre looked at him.

“Give me a minute.”

Morgan stepped into the bath.

Dre pulled his shirt off.

The scars across his back were nearly identical to Morgan’s.

And on his right shoulder blade was the same branding.

W.V.

Dre stared at it for a moment.

He said nothing.

Morgan didn’t notice.

Dre stepped into the bath.

“You really think he wants to just get a drink, Morgan?”

“No,” Morgan said. “He’s likely trying to get information, which is exactly what I’m trying to do.”

Dre nodded.

“Makes sense.”

“Barnes seems to know a lot, and the best way to get him to spill what he knows is to get him drunk.”

Dre thought about that for a moment.

“We don’t have any money in this world.”

“Well, he invited us.”

Morgan shrugged.

“So I’m putting it on his tab.”

Dre laughed.

“Well, let’s go drink then.”

Dre waited for Morgan to get out of the bath and leave before getting out himself.

A short while later, Morgan and Dre made their way toward the castle gate.

Barnes was already waiting for them.

No sword this time.

Just some casual clothing and a knife at his side.

The wind had begun to pick up, blowing his hair slightly as he stood waiting for them.

Dre looked him over.

“He really is your pretty-boy knight stereotype, huh?”

Morgan nodded.

“Absolutely.”

Barnes smiled.

“Well, gentlemen, you made it.”

He pushed himself away from the wall.

“I hope y’all can handle your alcohol.”

The three of them walked through the streets of the capital.

Morgan and Dre scanned every window and alleyway as they went.

Barnes noticed.

“Would you two relax?”

He shook his head.

“There’s no one here who could even lay a finger on you. Don’t be so uptight.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dre replied. “We’re in a new place with foreign people, and I’m going drinking with two white boys.”

Morgan laughed.

“Nothing ever goes right when I drink with white boys.”

Morgan looked at him.

“Oh, come on. You think I’d let something happen to you?”

He nodded toward Barnes.

“You saved me from losing my head to Sir Pretty Boy over here the other day. I owe you for that.”

Barns raised an eyebrow.

“Sir Pretty Boy?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan looked Barnes over.

“You got the jawline, you’re toned, the long flowing hair...”

He paused.

“Attractive. You’re the textbook definition of a pretty-boy knight.”

Barnes laughed.

“Oh, Sir Morgan. I didn’t know you swung that way.”

Dre started laughing hard.

Morgan rolled his eyes.

“Dre, you called him pretty first.”

That only made Dre laugh harder.

Barnes joined in.

For a moment, the three of them looked less like strangers from completely different worlds and more like old friends out having a drink.

Eventually, they reached a large building.

Barnes stopped in front of it.

“Here we are, gentlemen. The finest pub in the capital.”

The pub was quite large.

A lot of people were packed around tables, drinking and eating. The room was filled with the sound of conversation, laughter, and clinking mugs.

Barnes opened the door and led them inside.

“Oh, Sir Barnes!”

A woman behind the counter looked up.

“It’s good to see you again! Do you want your usual spot?”

“Yes, please.”

Barnes gestured toward Morgan and Dre.

“And be sure to bring us some ale. These two are my guests.”

He smiled.

“Keep them coming.”

The woman winked before walking away.

Dre watched her go.

“Sway, baby. Sway.”

Dre immediately realized he had said that out loud.

He cleared his throat and walked toward the table.

Morgan laughed.

There were now a lot of empty mugs scattered across the table.

Barnes leaned back in his chair, looking considerably more relaxed than when they had arrived.

“That is some interesting stories,” Barnes said.

He looked between the two men.

“You say in your world they don’t fight with swords or skills, but weapons called guns and machines? Some even fly?”

“Yeah,” Dre replied.

Barnes shook his head.

“Fascinating.”

Morgan nodded.

“Yeah, but it’s not as cool as it sounds.”

Barnes raised an eyebrow.

“I find that difficult to believe.”

Morgan shrugged.

“Trust me.”

Barnes took another drink before looking between them again.

“So you two knew each other before coming here?”

“No.”

Morgan and Dre answered at the exact same time.

Barnes raised an eyebrow.

Morgan glanced at Dre.

Dre glanced back.

Neither said anything.

Morgan took another drink.

“I used to be what’s called a Ranger. I don’t know what Dre is.”

Barnes looked at Dre.

“Interesting.”

He took another drink.

“The way y’all seem to know what the other is thinking, and the amount of trust you have in each other, would lead someone to believe y’all are brothers.”

Barnes smiled slightly.

“Or comrades, in a way.”

Morgan nodded.

“You’re not wrong there.”

He looked toward Dre.

“We have each other’s backs because that’s how we trained.”

Dre nodded.

“I’m in the special forces.”

Morgan looked back at Barnes.

“All soldiers in our country see each other as brothers, even if we haven’t met or worked together.”

Barnes nodded slowly.

“I see.”

He lifted his mug.

“To brothers, then.”

Morgan raised his mug.

“To brothers.”

The three mugs clinked together.

And for the first time since arriving in this world, Morgan allowed himself to relax.

Just a little.