Chapter 49: Beastmen and the Lute

Chapter 49: Chapter 49: Beastmen and the Lute

The Half-Beastman Grim turned and let out a laugh. "Ha! Interesting! Usually, I’m the one hounding people for their money. It’s rare to have someone be so proactive.

Alright. You seem like a decent kid, not like those other deadbeats. The private brew is 20 copper nails, the rack of ribs is 88. Let’s just call it an even 1 Silver Scale. Toss it on the bar!"

Hesia watched the way Grim carved the meat.

’That’s a generous portion.’

He placed a single Silver Scale on the bar and found a seat near the fireplace.

First, he checked his Points.

[Race: Half-Beastman]

[Decryption Points: 5]

[Term Extraction: Requires 20 Decryption Points]

Fortunately, the goal wasn’t too high.

He took a sip of the Beastman’s Strong Alcohol. A fiery line burned from his throat to his stomach, then quickly spread into a pleasant warmth.

"I’m Galen," he said to Grim, who was portioning out the roast. "You have a really nice tavern. But I have to ask, how did you come up with the name ’Beastmen and the Lute’?"

[Affinity with Half-Beastman Grim has increased. Decryption Points +5]

Grim sliced off a huge chunk of ribs and said without looking up, "Just call me Grim. ’Beastmen and the Lute,’ huh..."

His voice faltered for a moment, as if he were lost in a distant memory.

"It’s been a long time since anyone asked me that."

He placed the roast on a massive wooden cutting board and began skillfully carving it with a small knife.

"My mother was a Beastman Warrior from the Skullcrusher Tribe. One rainy night, she rescued a human Minstrel who knew how to play the lute and sweet-talk. And then... you get me."

"But," Grim’s tone was tinged with derision, "I never met that damn Minstrel. The guy probably bolted with his Lute before my mother even started to show. So, frankly, I don’t have a very good opinion of those damn Minstrels."

As Grim spoke, Hesia’s eyes drifted to a small, empty stage in a corner of the tavern. A lone, three-legged wooden stool sat on it—obviously a spot for a Minstrel.

Seemingly noticing Hesia’s gaze, Grim added, "But my mother... she couldn’t forget that silver-tongued bastard, right up until the day she died.

When I was a kid, she’d often tell me, while sharpening her battle-axe, about the first time she heard that guy play the Lute. She said it sounded like spring water trickling over stones, and that the stories he told about the outside world were far more interesting than our tribe’s legends."

"Later, a conflict broke out between the tribes, and she died in battle. I became an orphan and eventually an Adventurer, living on the edge just to get by.

After that, I got tired of adventuring. Since I was still in one piece, more or less, I used the money I’d saved to open this place in town."

Grim’s voice grew deeper. "Even though I hate that irresponsible Minstrel from the bottom of my heart, I really miss my mother. So I gave this place its name, ’Beastmen and the Lute,’ as a way to remember her."

He shrugged helplessly. "Maybe the name is a bit misleading? I always get customers coming in because of the word ’Lute,’ expecting to hear some soft little tunes. What am I supposed to do? For the sake of business, I have to hire Minstrels to perform regularly."

Hesia’s gaze lingered on the empty little stage, and he seemed lost in thought.

’He never would have expected that this rough-and-tumble Half-Beastman proprietor was hiding such delicate, even sorrowful, emotions.’

’His mother’s love story with the Minstrel was also rather... unique.’

’A Minstrel leaving a trail of offspring wherever he went... that fit Hesia’s stereotype for the Profession perfectly. The target being a female Beastman, however, made the pairing truly extraordinary.’

’Then again, perhaps for that particular Minstrel, it was about pursuing a kind of art or romance that transcended the boundaries of Race?’

’Hesia couldn’t wrap his head around it.’

Just then, his attention was drawn to some dark red stains on the stage floor. They looked like dried blood.

Grim followed his gaze, and his one good eye immediately flashed with anger. He said gruffly, "This is why I can’t stand those guys. The last bastard who came through wasn’t much of a Lute player, but he sure had guts. He kept getting handsy with my only waitress!"

He pointed to the stains. "I caught him red-handed and beat the crap out of him. That blood is what he left behind! And what do you know, the Minstrel hasn’t shown his face in days, and my waitress hasn’t been back to work in days either!"

"Then a customer told me he saw the two of them strolling down the street, arm-in-arm. Zog ga (Beastman slang)! What in the hell!"

He didn’t stop moving as he spoke.

He brushed a thick, dark brown sauce over the carved beef ribs, then placed them on a smooth, preheated stone slab next to the fireplace.

He served it with a large hunk of bread, roasted until the crust was hard and dark, and a small carving knife, pushing the entire meal in front of Hesia.

"Maybe... I should just cross out that second rule," he muttered to himself.

Then, he took two trimmed rib bones and placed them on the floor near Hesia’s feet.

Hesia watched Bruce wag his tail in a blur of excitement and couldn’t help but think, ’If Grim could see Affinity prompts, he’d probably be spammed with notifications from Bruce right now.’

Picking up the small knife, Hesia began to savor the hearty supper worth one Silver Scale.

To be honest, as a single meal, its price far exceeded his standard of living back in Print.

In those days, he had mostly cooked for himself.

He had known how to cook before transmigrating, but after arriving in this Otherworld, he had never been able to cook anything decent.

There were many reasons: the ingredients of this world were vastly different from those on Earth, he didn’t recognize most of the spices and seasonings, and most importantly—he was extremely short on funds. He could rarely afford to buy meat.

Back in Print, his daily meal consisted of gnawing on black bread that could double as a brick. An occasional bowl of bland bean soup with a few pieces of painfully salty dried fish was considered a luxury.

He lifted a piece of meat to his mouth.

The skin was roasted to a fragrant, crispy perfection, and the juices within instantly exploded in his mouth.

The texture of the Split-hoof beef was similar to regular beef, but it seemed to have a higher fat content, and it carried a peculiar, gamey aroma as he chewed.

But Grim’s special sauce was the real star of the show!

With his culinary experience as a Transmigrator, Hesia could identify the toasted fragrance of garlic and the richness of some kind of alcohol in the sauce. However, there was another flavor—faintly spicy and complexly aromatic—that he simply couldn’t place.

Seeing Hesia’s unpretentious and hearty way of devouring the meat, a flicker of satisfaction passed through Grim’s single eye. He teased, "Looks like you were properly starved, kid. The way you’re eating, you’ve got some of our Beastman spirit in you."

Hesia’s mouth was full of meat, and he mumbled, "Ish... sho good!

[Affinity with Half-Beastman Grim has increased. Decryption Points +4]