I Tricked a God V2. Chapter 23 — The Merry Drunkard

The sun had long passed noon, lazily drifting toward the horizon, and soft light fell across the walls of the Imperial Academy. The stone had ward throughout the day, the air had grown warr, and even the wind wandering between the buildings no longer felt cold today.

The bells announcing the end of lectures had finished ringing more than an hour ago, yet life on the Academy grounds still bustled. Students drifted away in groups, discussing classes, so hurrying off on errands, while others took their ti, making the most of their rare free ti.

At that mont, Valkeris stepped leisurely out through the main entrance.

He moved with an air of ease, leaning on his cane, as though noticing neither the rush around him nor the looks directed his way. His pace was asured and assured, chin slightly raised, as if he rightfully owned this space.

A group followed imdiately behind him—several students walking just a bit back, but clearly positioning themselves around him. They chatted, laughed, hanging on his every word.

Valkeris paused for a mont, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his face toward the sun, and lazily murmured, “What wonderful weather… It’s been noticeably warr these past few days.”

Seiran, walking slightly to his right, imdiately picked up the conversation, leaning closer with a faint smile.

“How about a drink?” he suggested. “I heard a new tavern opened on Lesser Amber Street.”

Valkeris raised a brow, slowly turning his head toward him.

“A tavern?” he repeated, mockery slipping into his voice. “What do you take for?”

Seiran imdiately raised his hands as if backing down and shook his head with an easy smile.

“I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I hadn’t heard about it at least ten tis this past week.”

He leaned in slightly, looking at Valkeris, clearly fueling his interest.

A voice sounded from the left—that of another student, a sowhat chubby boy with short green hair. Furrowing his brow, he thought for a second, then nodded.

“I’ve heard sothing about it too… I think it’s called the ‘rry Drunkard.’”

Valkeris, slowly turning the cane in his fingers, narrowed his eyes.

“Even you’ve heard of it, Puntis? And what’s so special about it?” he asked, his interest now clearly piqued.

“They say they sell signature drinks,” Puntis replied thoughtfully. “You can’t find anything like them anywhere else in the Capital.”

Seiran imdiately chid in, leaning a little closer: “That’s not even the main thing. People say their drinks are packed with mana.”

Puntis chuckled quietly, exchanging glances with the others.

“A lot of people joke, ‘Where else can you combine drinking with training?’”

Seiran smirked as well and casually added, “Despite being a ‘tavern,’ it’s not for everyone. They say the prices bite…”

Hearing that, Valkeris stopped tapping his cane. The tip of the cane froze a few centiters above the stone, and genuine interest appeared in his eyes.

“Is the owner soone famous?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.

Puntis shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“No. Just so old man…”

Valkeris slowly ran a finger along the handle of his cane, frowning.

“I don’t believe it. Then how did they get their first custors?” He tilted his head slightly. “Who would even buy so unknown swill? And at inflated prices, no less.”

Seiran chuckled quietly, exchanging a glance with Puntis.

“The owner may be unknown, but he’s clever. They say your first mug is free.”

Puntis nodded and even snapped his fingers in confirmation.

“Yeah. On the first day, there was a whole line because of it—it caused quite a stir.”

He smirked, recalling it.

“At first, mostly freeloaders ca. But once they realized the quality and value of the drinks, word spread quickly among the wealthy youth.”

Valkeris froze for a second, then sharply struck his cane against the stone. The sound rang out clearly, drawing a few curious looks from passing students.

“Fine,” he drawled, his interest now unmistakable. “You’ve intrigued .”

With those words, Valkeris resud walking without even checking whether the others were following.

Seiran and Puntis visibly perked up, exchanging glances almost simultaneously. Their pace imdiately quickened, as though afraid Valkeris might change his mind.

The others followed without a word, falling into step behind him, and the whole group headed toward the Academy grounds’ exit.

Valkeris walked slightly ahead, tapping his cane in its usual rhythm again, though his gaze grew more thoughtful for a mont.

“By the way…” he drawled without turning around. “Heard anything about the Liaison? It’s been nearly two weeks since he decided to cross …”

Seiran smirked, adjusting his sleeve as he walked.

“I’ve seen him a couple of tis. He rushes off sowhere right after lectures, like soone’s chasing him.”

Valkeris gave a quiet snort, the corner of his lips twitching.

“Found himself a job so he doesn’t end up on the streets? Admirable…”

Seiran laughed, shaking his head.

“What job? He’s probably just running errands for soone.”

Valkeris’s lackeys imdiately burst into laughter, and one of them added maliciously, “At this rate, he probably won’t even finish the Academy.”

Puntis snorted and said sternly, “He shouldn’t have crossed Valkeris. Let it serve as a lesson to the others.”

The group laughed once more as they continued forward, while Valkeris rely tightened his grip on the cane slightly, staring straight ahead.

✦ ✦ ✦

And at that very mont, while Valkeris leisurely pondered Kael’s fate and was already heading toward the newly famous tavern, Kael himself stood at its very heart.

He stood behind the bar, leaning a palm against the polished wood, waiting for Girren to finish pouring a frothy drink from the barrel. Girren worked confidently and quickly, tilting the tap just enough, watching the foam so it wouldn’t spill over the rim.

anwhile, Kael was far from idle.

His gaze swept across the hall, carefully observing everything around him. People ca and went, yet the stream never let up. So had just entered, glancing around for empty seats, while others already sat at tables, laughing loudly and clanking mugs together. At a table in the back, two n argued animatedly, while near the window a group of girls leaned toward one another, excitedly discussing sothing while sipping fruit wine.

The inner courtyard was bustling as well. Several tables were already occupied, so patrons stood leaning against the walls, and soone laughed loudly enough to be heard even inside.

Kael narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting his gaze from one group to another. Here and there, white Imperial Academy uniforms stood out among the crowd.

“As soon as lectures end, we get a noticeable influx of custors…” he noted inwardly. “We’re becoming popular among wealthy youths.”

At that mont, Kael’s mory—precise down to the smallest detail—unfolded before him like an abacus in his mind.

Faces, orders, movents—everything that had happened in the tavern over the past week surfaced in a single stream. Who ordered what, how long they stayed, how much they left on the table—the numbers fell into place on their own, forming a clear picture.

His gaze instinctively swept over the nearest tables, noting mugs, dishes, leftovers.

“Thanks to the Gourt’s Arcane Table…” he calmly began calculating inwardly. “We can keep prices high. The flavor and fullness do the work for us.”

His eyes lingered on a group of students by the window—expensive rings, immaculate uniforms, and confident movents.

“At the sa ti, the actual costs stay moderate…”

He shifted his attention farther, toward a more modest pair sharing a single plate of appetizers and a pitcher.

“The more modest guests spend around two silver… while the rich spend several tis that.”

Kael moved slightly aside to make room for a passing guest and continued calculating without missing a beat.

“On average… six to eight silver per person.”

For a second, his gaze settled on the hall as a whole, as if encompassing it with a single thought.

“With our prices… and the current number of seats… Around sixty custors a day.”

Kael’s mind raced as he brought all the numbers together, never taking his eyes off the hall.

“If we continue at this pace… subtract Barnabas’s share, the cost of ingredients, future wages for the staff who would soon replace the others, as well as the city tax…” The calculations ford one after another without pause, forming a single coherent picture. “We could bring in around two thousand silver a month…”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking toward the tables with food, at the plates where, for now, only appetizers were being served.

“And if we hire a cook… and start selling dishes infused with mana…” One thought imdiately led to the next, already recalculating everything. “Then we could reach four thousand silver…”

At that mont, his lips curled into a sly grin on their own, and his fingers drumd against the wood in satisfaction.

“Ha…” he exhaled quietly, almost soundlessly.

“If divided among eight people…” the calculation completed itself. “Even now, each of us would earn around two hundred and fifty silver.”

He shook his head slightly, as if testing the number against reality, and muttered without restraint, “That’s barely less than the starting salary of an Imperial Academy graduate…”

Turning his head toward the kitchen, Kael held his gaze there for a mont, from where the clatter of dishes and muffled voices drifted out. He could partially see Lissandra and Roselle quickly sorting plates, while Dorian, without looking away from his work, chopped sothing, occasionally brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Things are hard for everyone right now…” he calmly noted to himself, watching them work without pause. “Everyone has to pull their weight.”

The thought did not linger, imdiately moving on, already planning the next step.

“But tomorrow the new workers start… things will get easier.”

He straightened slightly, returning his gaze to the hall.

“The main thing is to get everything in order before my training with Lieutenant Valeria ends…”

At that mont, his thoughts were interrupted by Girren’s voice beside him: “Ready. You can take it over, Kael.”

Kael blinked, returning to reality, and gave Girren a short nod.

“Thanks.”

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Picking up the tray of mugs, he squared his shoulders as he walked and put on his usual welcoming smile, already approaching the first table a mont later.

Moving between the tables, he easily wove around guests, setting mugs down with practiced ease, briefly responding to remarks and nodding in response to thanks. The noise, laughter, and clinking glass all blended into a single rhythm that he now moved through effortlessly.

And at the very mont he set the last mug on the table, nudging it slightly toward the guest, a raspy voice called out from the side: “Can I get a mug too?”

Kael imdiately turned, already about to answer, but the mont he looked up, he froze for a fraction of a second.

Elder Cornelius was sitting before him.

His gray hair was neatly combed back, simple clothes hiding his status, yet his gaze remained the sa—calm and attentive. He brushed aside a strand of hair near his temple and, narrowing his eyes slightly, added, “You don’t waste ti, Kael.”

Kael gave a short laugh, greeting the old man without hesitation: “Welco to the rry Drunkard! We’re glad to see you, Elder Cornelius.”

Cornelius smiled, lightly tapping his fingers against the table.

“Apologies for the delay. I should’ve visited sooner.”

Kael quickly raised a hand, holding up two fingers to Girren.

Girren imdiately noticed who was seated at the table, straightened slightly for a second, and, without a word, quickened his pace, already reaching for the barrel with their finest drink.

Kael stepped closer to the table, resting a palm lightly against the edge of the table, and said with a respectful smile, “As you can see, the Capital forced to adjust my plans.”

Cornelius nodded, accepting the answer without unnecessary questions. Not trying to pry into Kael’s affairs, he calmly said, “I’ve already spoken with Lieutenant Valeria. She’s pleased with the youths from Lasthold…” his gaze lingering briefly on Kael, “and especially with you.”

He looked away for a mont, letting his gaze drift across the hall where the noise never died down for even a mont, and added, “To be honest, when I learned you’d left the Student Quarter, I was a little worried.”

But almost imdiately, the corners of his lips lifted: “Seems my worries were unnecessary.”

At that mont, Girren appeared beside them. He deftly placed two large mugs of frothy ale on the table, foam slightly spilling over the rim and leaving a thin trail on the wood.

“Greetings, Elder Cornelius,” he said with a short nod, and without lingering, turned back toward the counter.

Kael watched him go, then looked back at the old man with a smile.

“The first mug is on the house.”

Cornelius nodded gratefully, lifting the mug and taking his first sip.

But the mont he took a sip, his brows rose imdiately. He froze for an instant, as though trying to make sense of the sensation, and said in confusion, “How is this possible…”

Kael rely shrugged, calmly watching his reaction.

“I’m not sure myself. Old Barnabas brews all the alcohol. But sohow, his drinks retain an unusually large amount of mana.”

Cornelius frowned slightly, searching his mory for the na.

“Barnabas? I think I’ve heard that na before…”

Kael nodded toward the stairs leading to the basent, muttering, “The old man said he used to sell his drinks only to the Capital’s elite. I just convinced him to sell to a broader crowd. Though we did have to simplify the recipes a little.”

Cornelius took another sip, more confidently this ti, and nodded with satisfaction.

“Looks like I’ll beco one of your regular custors.”

Kael smirked slightly, inclining his head.

“We’d be honored.”

Cornelius gave him a faint smile in return, but almost imdiately his gaze grew more attentive.

“You’ve done well for yourself.”

He paused briefly before adding in a more serious tone, “But I hope you haven’t decided to leave the Academy to beco a tavern keeper?”

Kael calmly took a sip from his mug, brushed the foam from his lips with the back of his hand, and answered without hesitation:

“You don’t need to worry about that. My ambitions are much higher.”

Cornelius nodded approvingly, then, taking another sip, asked with interest, “Have you had ti to think about which path you’ll take?”

Kael looked away for a second, as though gathering his thoughts, then answered calmly:

“First, I need to see how the professors evaluate . But overall… I’m fairly skilled in alchemy,” he lightly tapped a finger against the mug, “and I’ve been thinking about inscription craft. Plus, I’d like to combine it with military studies. Strength is always valuable.”

Cornelius raised a brow, studying him carefully.

“I see you’re aiming to join the Empire’s future elite. Comndable.”

But as he said this, the old man narrowed his eyes slightly, making his red reptilian pupils seem to glint.

“Have you considered the Scholars’ Guild?” he asked directly. “In a short ti, you’ve proven yourself even better than I expected. I could easily take you on as an apprentice, Kael.”

Kael froze for a mont, his gaze growing slightly more serious, then respectfully inclined his head.

“That would be a great honor.”

He paused briefly, choosing his words more carefully before adding, “The problem is that I want to pursue several crafts at once. I’m afraid that might offend you.”

Cornelius rely chuckled softly and replied pointedly:

“You’re allowed to take exams early. And if my specialization ends up being the first one you pass…” he gave a faint shrug, “then there’d be no reason for offense.”

With those words, the old man raised his mug and drained it in several gulps. Setting it down on the table with a quiet thud, he let his hand rest on the wood for a mont.

Kael hesitated for a mont in surprise.

“You’re leaving already?”

Cornelius rose smoothly to his feet and, passing by, gave Kael a firm pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll co by again,” he said calmly. “Today, I simply wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Turning toward the exit, he added over his shoulder, “Thank you for the drink. And think about my offer!”

Only then did Kael seem to realize sothing, and he imdiately called after him, “Just don’t reconsider!”

Cornelius rely laughed and waved a hand without turning around, soon stepping out into the inner courtyard.

A calculating smile imdiately spread across Kael’s face. He watched the old man leave, absently running his fingers along the edge of the counter, and noted to himself:

“Getting close to Cornelius from the very beginning was worth it… Being an ordinary apprentice and being the apprentice of a respected mage are completely different things.”

The thought had only just begun to develop further when it was abruptly interrupted by loud laughter coming from the entrance to the inner courtyard.

The noise cut through the general hum of the tavern—too arrogant, too self-assured. The familiar voices were unmistakable.

Kael raised his gaze, ignoring the other tables, and instantly found the source.

“Valkeris...” he muttered to himself inwardly.

As always, Valkeris walked at the front, moving with his usual leisurely confidence, cane in hand, while his entire entourage trailed behind him. They were already entering the courtyard without slowing down, glancing around as though they had co not to soone else’s establishnt, but to their own place.

Cornelius had just passed by them without breaking stride or even glancing their way, as if they simply did not exist to him.

And almost imdiately, Seiran’s loud, deliberately dissatisfied voice rang out, “Hey, I don’t see any free tables!”

Almost at once, Puntis chid in, looking around theatrically, “Important guests have arrived! Where’s the owner of this establishnt?”

Several guests imdiately turned toward the noise. Conversations began to quiet down, and so people even rose slightly from their seats, trying to get a better look at what was happening at the entrance. Recognizing Valkeris, several students exchanged wary glances—his group clearly carried a bad reputation.

Seiran had already drawn breath, preparing to shout sothing else, when a calm voice suddenly rang out from the hall, “How may I help you, gentlen?”

At the sound of the voice, the entire group turned almost simultaneously. The mont they recognized Kael, they froze for a second, as if unable to believe their eyes, before bursting into laughter almost imdiately.

Grinning, Seiran stepped slightly forward.

“What are you doing here, Liaison?”

Puntis gave Kael a dismissive once-over and snorted.

“An Academy student working as a waiter? What a disgrace…”

A subdued murmur rolled through the courtyard. So people leaned toward their neighbors to whisper, while others, already drunk, leaned forward with open curiosity.

Without changing his expression, Kael calmly stopped a couple of steps away from them, standing straight-backed, and, inclining his head slightly, answered, “There’s no sha in honest work.”

Then, looking directly at them, he calmly repeated, “How may I help you?”

Valkeris slowly shifted his gaze to Kael, and open contempt imdiately appeared in his eyes. His lips twisted faintly, as though sothing unpleasant stood before him, and without bothering to hide his tone, he said, “I wish to speak with the owner of the tavern, not with common trash.”

Kael let out a tired breath and closed his eyes for a second, as though he’d expected sothing like this. He opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance.

From behind him, cutting through the noise of the inner courtyard, ca a displeased voice, “What’s all this shouting? Can’t even have a smoke in peace!”

Turning around, Kael saw Barnabas approaching them at an unhurried pace, lighting the tobacco in his pipe while he walked. He snapped his fingers, producing a spark, then took a drag and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke to the side.

Valkeris narrowed his eyes, imdiately shifting his attention to him.

“This your tavern, old man?”

Barnabas stopped beside Kael, gave the group a brief glance, then calmly replied, “Mine. Why?”

Hearing that, Valkeris froze for a mont, and then a cold, calculating gleam flashed in his eyes. One corner of his lips curled upward, and, tilting his head slightly, he slowly said, “Doesn’t it bother you having trash like this working for you?”

Nodding toward Kael, he did not even look at him, continuing in a lazy, self-assured tone, “If you want gentlen like to visit your establishnt… you should get rid of trash like him.”

Barnabas took another slow drag from his pipe, exhaled smoke to the side, and raised one brow while looking Valkeris up and down.

“Gentlen like you?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “And just who are you supposed to be?”

Valkeris’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly, irritation flashing across his face, but he quickly regained control of himself. Straightening up, he lightly tapped his cane against the ground and replied, “You stand before the great-grandson of the Academy’s Headmaster.”

With those words, he pulled a pouch of coins from his belt and lazily continued, “Free up the best seats for us… and throw this trash out so I never have to see him again.”

He lightly shook the pouch, as if emphasizing the weight of his words, and added, “Trust , I’ll make it worth your while.”

Valkeris was barely hiding his satisfaction now. The corners of his lips curled upward, and his gaze slid over Kael with open anticipation.

“You think I’ll let you live peacefully in the Capital now?” flashed through his mind as he lazily toyed with the pouch of coins in his hand.

But in the next mont, sothing happened that made Valkeris freeze in place.

Barnabas took a deep drag from his pipe, squinting through the stream of smoke, then stepped slightly closer and blew the smoke directly into Valkeris’s face.

“Did you see the sign, pup?”

The words ca out rough and loud, cutting through the noise around them.

For a second, Valkeris seed unable to process what had just happened—or perhaps unwilling to believe it. His grip on the cane twitched slightly, and his gaze sharpened.

But Barnabas did not even give him ti to recover, lazily tapping the pipe against his palm.

“rry drunkards co here… not arrogant little whelps.”

Sowhere off to the side, soone quietly laughed, covering their mouth with a hand. At a nearby table, two students exchanged glances, struggling to suppress their smiles.

But Barnabas had no intention of stopping.

He took another step forward, leaning in slightly, and jabbed the stem of his pipe toward the tavern.

“If you want to drink my legendary brew, stand in line. And learn so damn manners.”

Valkeris sharply sucked in a breath, clenching his teeth so hard that veins bulged along his jaw, and hissed as he stepped forward, “Do you even understand who you’re talking to—”

But Barnabas didn’t let him finish. Without even changing expression, Barnabas rely twitched the corner of his lips and imdiately cut him off: “I don’t care if you’re the Emperor’s own grandmother.”

He lazily waved his pipe toward Kael, without the slightest concern for Valkeris’s reaction.

“And this kid doesn’t work here. He’s co-owner of the tavern.”

A quiet murmur spread through the tavern. So people raised their brows in surprise, while others abruptly turned to look at Kael.

Kael himself only smiled faintly as he looked directly at Valkeris.

“By the gods, I wanted to help you… and treat you to so of old man Barnabas’s excellent beer.”

He let out a short breath, as if offering one final chance.

“It’s not too late to settle this peacefully…”

But Valkeris was no longer listening.

“Co-owner?” he barked, squeezing the pouch hard enough for the coins inside to clink. “Enough with the jokes, old man. Throw this trash out, and I’ll pay you five tis more.”

But in the very next mont, another cloud of smoke was blown straight into his face.

This ti, Barnabas spoke without a trace of amusent. Stepping half a pace forward, he fixed Valkeris with a cold stare.

“You know what… I don’t like you.”

Nodding toward the pouch in his hand, he added with open irritation, “Shove your coins up your ass and piss off.”

“What did you say?!” Valkeris roared, suddenly grabbing Barnabas by the shirt, and at that sa instant crimson mana flared around him—dense and twitching, almost alive.

He had already clenched his fist, preparing to strike, but he never got the chance.

Kael stepped forward and grabbed his wrist sharply, raising his own gray mana in response. The clash was brutal—in the very next second, Valkeris’s arm jerked downward as though it had suddenly turned to lead.

Valkeris yanked at his arm, trying to break free, but his body only lurched harder to the side. His fingers slipped from Barnabas’s shirt, and, losing his balance, he stumbled a step, nearly tripping.

“What the—” he hissed in shock, looking up sharply.

Gray mana still pressed down on his wrist, and only a mont later did Valkeris abruptly flare with his own power, brutally forcing out the foreign mana. His arm regained its normal weight, and Valkeris violently tore his wrist free from the grip.

For a mont, his lackeys were stunned that so provincial nobody had actually managed to throw Valkeris off balance. But imdiately afterward, they began channeling their own mana, as if preparing for a fight.

But the interruption ca almost imdiately. At that very mont, figures of the city guard appeared nearby. And right after that, a rough voice rang out from the street: “What’s going on here?!”

Valkeris jerked his gaze toward them, instantly suppressing his mana, and curtly threw out to his group, “We’re leaving. I don’t intend to stay here any longer.”

Turning away, he tossed over his shoulder while already walking off, not even looking back, “You’ll regret this, old man.”

Kael watched them leave without moving from his spot, then let out a faint breath and turned toward the approaching guards, calmly nodding.

“Everything’s under control. Thank you for your service.”

One of the guards held his gaze for a mont, as if considering whether to ask further questions, but finding no reason, rely grunted sothing and waved the others onward. A few seconds later, their footsteps had already dissolved into the noise of the street.

Barnabas, standing beside him, took another slow drag from his pipe, then shifted his gaze to the hand Kael had just used to hold Valkeris and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“That’s an interesting kind of magic you’ve got, boy…” he drawled, exhaling smoke to the side.

Kael only smiled, lightly stretching his fingers as though shaking off the lingering tension.

“It’s still weak. I hope I’ll be able to develop it further in the future.”

Barnabas grunted, raising the pipe to his lips again, and muttered between drags, “I’d be interested to see it in battle…”

✦ ✦ ✦

anwhile, Valkeris was already forcing his way through the crowd, roughly shouldering past passersby. His stride was quick and sharp, his cane striking the stone harder and faster than usual. His face was twisted in anger, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“That trash has insulted twice already…” he hissed through clenched teeth, without even bothering to lower his voice. “I won’t tolerate this.”

He sharply turned toward Seiran, shooting him a cold glare.

“I wanted to be rciful, but unfortunately… this wildling needs to be taught his place.”

Seiran imdiately nodded, not asking a single unnecessary question.