"Brother, looking at your attire... you must be a sorcerer who's come to the Academy to study, right?"
The bartender sized up Mohg's clothing and asked in a low voice.
"Yes. I've been traveling abroad for a long time and find myself lacking in accumulated knowledge, so I wished to come to the Academy of Raya Lucaria to learn more."
"I see. Well, it's a relief to finally see someone with a bit of education and a brain..."
The bartender nodded, speaking with a hint of weary emotion. His words caused a flicker of confusion to cross Mohg's face.
"What do you mean by that? Have many people arrived in the Academy Gate Town recently who... lack what you just mentioned?"
"You could say that. To put it simply, a lot of mercenaries and country bumpkins from the sticks have been pouring in lately. Those fellows don't understand the first thing about rules."
As he spoke, a look of blatant dissatisfaction surfaced on the bartender's face.
Hearing this, Mohg began to observe the tavern. Sure enough, he spotted men in several corners with weapons resting beside them or strapped to their backs. Most were clad in light armor. He didn't see anyone in heavy plate; he surmised there was likely a local regulation prohibiting that kind of gear.
After all, light armor couldn't stop a blow from a massive weapon, but heavy armor was a different story. Furthermore, the bearing and conduct of these men didn't suggest they belonged to any formal military unit. It seemed these were indeed the "newly arrived mercenaries" the bartender was complaining about.
"And what are these 'rules' you speak of?"
Mohg shifted his gaze away from the mercenaries and looked back at the bartender to continue the inquiry.
"Essentially, they are the rules established by the sorcerer lords and the great merchant masters. Things like the prohibition of violence within the town limits."
"That sounds reasonable enough. However, I assume these mercenaries wouldn't dare provoke the authority of the Academy or the Royal Family?"
Mohg nodded, though the man still hadn't quite hit the point—namely, why these people were considered "ignorant of the rules."
"Heh, they certainly wouldn't dare do it openly in the town, but outside the walls is a different story. Even inside the town, it's not like they're entirely well-behaved."
The bartender shook his head.
"The current situation is... delicate. As long as these guys don't go too far, that pack of money-grubbing Cuckoos won't lift a finger to stop them. The Carian Knights would care, but they have much more important matters to attend to right now. So, most of the time, the guards handling things are just those Cuckoo fellows..."
Listening to this, a look of understanding dawned in Mohg's eyes. As for why the man didn't mention the Academy itself...
That was only natural. The Academy couldn't be bothered with "secular affairs." They only cared about collecting their fees before retreating back into their halls to study their sorceries.
"Enough about that. Future Master Sorcerer, is there anything else you'd like to know?"
The bartender served the fruit wine Mohg had ordered and asked.
"Yes. What is the current status and timing for the Academy's enrollment?"
"It's the same as always. They basically have a few fixed dates to take in new students. Let me think... the next enrollment should be about three months from now. However, the Academy is currently very welcoming toward wandering sorcerers returning from abroad."
"Thank you for the information."
Mohg nodded and ceased his questioning. He began to quietly savor the tavern's fried crab and fruit wine.
Clang!
"What the hell did you just say?!"
"I said, you're nothing but a money-grubbing bastard!"
The sudden commotion instantly drew the eyes of everyone in the tavern, and Mohg was no exception. The conflict involved two mercenaries from the corners Mohg had noticed earlier. A number of empty bottles lay overturned around them; it was clear they had been drinking heavily.
Both men were now red-faced and shouting. It was unclear exactly what had sparked the argument, but from the sounds of it, it seemed to be a clash of values.
Mohg shook his head. After swallowing the last bite of food on his plate, he intended to leave and head toward the Academy to take a look around.
However, things rarely go as smoothly as one hopes.
A loud thud echoed through the bar as one mercenary was sent flying toward the counter by a punch from the other. The direction he was tumbling happened to be exactly where Mohg was sitting.
Realizing this, Mohg's expression darkened.
His first instinct was to reach out, catch the flying man, and hurl him aside. But he suddenly remembered his current "identity" as a sorcerer. He forced himself to suppress the impulse and chose to simply dodge to the side instead.
CRASH!
"Hey! You two bastards! If you don't get the hell out of here right now, I'm calling the guards!"
Seeing a large dent smashed into his bar counter, the bartender's face turned grim as he roared at the two mercenaries.
"None of your damn business!"
The mercenary who had been thrown was now exceptionally furious. Fueled by alcohol, he drew the longsword at his waist and pointed it directly at the bartender.
The bartender's pupils shrank. He froze in place, clearly having not expected the man to actually draw steel. In this town, drawing a blade was a completely different level of offense than a simple fistfight.
Whish—!
"Ugh!"
Suddenly, a figure appeared behind the mercenary and swung a wooden, staff-like object with a sharp crack.
The mercenary, who had no sense of caution regarding his rear, took a heavy blow to the back of the head. His vision went dark instantly, and he collapsed forward, unconscious.
Having finished the deed, Mohg silently retracted his glintstone staff. He even went so far as to wipe the end of it on the fallen mercenary's clothes.
The other mercenary hurried over, his face drenched in a cold sweat. He had clearly been terrified when his companion drew the sword; fortunately, the situation had been resolved before it escalated into a total disaster.
The patrons in the tavern silently shifted their gaze to Mohg—specifically, to the staff in his hand.
He had just used a catalyst for primeval sorcery to club a man unconscious...
Wait... could he be a sorcerer from the Haima Conspectus?
Looking at his actions and his stature, he certainly seemed to fit the profile of those battle-hardened mages perfectly.
"Phew... thank you, brother."
The bartender snapped out of his shock and looked at Mohg with immense gratitude.
"It was nothing. However, you should still call the guards to handle this. I need to head to the Academy, so I won't have time to keep an eye on this fellow."
"Of course! Go ahead. I'll make sure the guards deal with this piece of trash!"
Hearing the bartender's teeth-gritting tone, Mohg nodded. After a final glance at the mercenary who had started the fight, he turned and left the establishment.
He expected the other mercenary wouldn't stick around the tavern for long either; the man would likely use this window of time to slip away as fast as possible.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (369 Chapters – Ongoing)
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