Chapter 59: Matilda
The smell of wine, beer, and sweat filled the air, almost suffocating. The loud noise of men talking at the top of their voices, drunk and wanton, echoed off the wooden walls of the building. They slammed their fists into tables as they talked, telling far-fetched tales of their greatness.
Beautiful ladies walked the floor, dressed in black-and-white waitress gowns that revealed a bit too much leg and shoulder. Smiles hung on their faces as they carried trays to serve, though most of the smiles seemed forced and heavy to carry.
But to the men that drank here to stupor, it was more than enough, an escape from their homes and wives to live the dream of being served by a fully submissive woman. They fondled the behinds of the waitresses, speaking with lust-filled eyes and yellow teeth that were due for a wash.
They promised riches and a better life. The ladies stood there listening, fighting with all their will to not throw up or have any reaction; the hands on their bodies felt disgusting, but their pay stood on the line, a reckless reaction could make them lose it.
This was a popular bar in Oden, the Wild Bear Bar, a place frequented mostly by men.
Seated at the counter of this bar was Andrew. Seated with his back hunched over, he watched the bartender do his thing while a cup of beer sat before him, the thick alcohol smell entering his nose.
He had just arrived at Oden this morning, and the first place he came to was this bar to have a drink. He was never really a drinking person; he was training to be a knight and take over the barony from his father, so he had to make sure he was up to par.
Sure, he had a drink every now and then, but this was the first time that he was drinking this much. He grabbed the beer and immediately started gulping it down in reckless abandon. The bartender, a middle-aged man, glanced at him but said nothing.
Andrew was done with the first cup; he slammed it down on the table and then looked at the bartender. "More," he ordered, and the bartender did as he said, refilling the drink.
He went on to drink one after another until he began getting drunk, and yet he had no plans to stop. As he moved to drink the next, a hand stopped his; it was slender, light-skinned, and soft.
Andrew looked to the side; it was a waitress—a beautiful one. Her eyes were like emeralds and her hair a reddish blonde; she had a soft smile and an oval face.
"I’ve hardly ever seen someone your age come here and drink this much," she said.
"You’ve been watching me?" Andrew responded.
"Indeed I have. I’ve been wondering what a young person your age and looks would be doing in this place where old men come to fulfill their fantasies," she said before taking a seat beside him.
"Shouldn’t you be working?" he asked.
"Ouch, a beautiful lady sits with you; should you drive her away?" she said, pretending her feelings were hurt.
He looked at her for a few seconds and then focused back on his drink. She leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his body; the warm feeling wrapped around his arm, but he barely reacted.
"When a man your age is somewhere like this, I’m certain there is an issue. So what is it? You can tell me," she said, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck as she spoke.
He looked at her for a few seconds, then sipped his drink and set it down on the counter. "It’s not something you would understand," he replied.
"Try me," she said.
"Sigh. What would you do if someone wanted to take what rightfully belongs to you?" he asked.
"I’d take them out of the way. No one can come between my desires and me; I’d do anything for what I want," she said, her voice a little seductive.
"I see. And what if that person is family?"
"Even worse. If they were really my family, they wouldn’t have tried to take it from me," she said.
"Exactly right," he said. He grabbed the cup and took a drink. "But I can’t just kill them; it’s not right," he said.
"Who decided what is right or wrong?" she asked.
Andrew was instantly stunned; the talk of death didn’t even phase her. Instead, she went on to support it.
She placed her hand over his and looked him in the eyes. "My name is Matilda; I haven’t introduced myself. Now, back to what you were saying. They were wrong for coming after what was yours, so they deserve what they get," she said, her tone sounding confident and certain.
"Yes, but it doesn’t warrant death, right?" he asked looking for her validation on the issue.
She placed her hand over his and looked him in the eyes. "I feel you already know what you want, so instead of sitting here and drowning in despair and drink, why not take action and take what is yours?" she said, sounding compelling.
Andrew pondered her words for a few seconds and finally made a decision: he would go see the viscount. It was time he took him up on the deal and did what needed to be done.
"Thank you, Matilda. You’ve for certain given me the clarity for what I need to do," he tried to get up. She was tipsy and nearly fell, so she rushed in and caught him. "You can thank me by coming back here tonight to see me, okay?" she asked.
"I’ll do that," he stood on his own. He dropped a golden coin on the counter and walked out of the bar. Immediately he was gone. The bartender looked at her. "You gonna use this one and get rid of him after?" he asked.
"Focus on your job, Ruff," she said and walked away.