Chapter 761: A Weird Kind Of Alcohol [Bonus - ]

Chapter 761: A Weird Kind Of Alcohol [Bonus Chapter]

Silas felt a sudden spike of warmth hit the back of his neck, and he quickly busied himself with stirring the sauce, keeping his eyes firmly locked onto the pot.

"She’s just keeping watch," Silas coughed lightly. "Morwenna takes territorial security very seriously..."

A few feet away on her stool, Ther’Abella sat with her arms wound tightly over her leather guard vest.

Her silver hair fell in front of her face, partially obscuring the bright red bump still swelling in the middle of her forehead, but her sharp icy blue eyes never once left Silas’s hands.

Her jaw twitched every time the wooden spoon scraped against the bottom of the copper pot.

The fragrant aroma of melting butter, caramelized alliums, simmered stock, and browned meat was filling the kitchen so thoroughly that the cold ascetic discipline she had spent ages cultivating was threatening to crumble into dust.

’Look at him...’ Ther’Abella thought, her teeth grinding behind her lips as she watched him taste the sauce from the tip of the spoon with that easy contented smile. ’Standing there like a simple tavern cook, humming under his breath while he stirs animal flesh and root mash.’

She narrowed her eyes, watching the rhythmic fluid motion of his broad shoulders, noticing the subtle strength in his forearms and the quiet unhurried confidence in his posture.

’Yet the food...’ Ther’Abella thought, her inner voice wavering with a sudden horrifying sense of dread as the delicious scent tickled her nose. ’It smells like a sun-drenched meadow after a warm rain... It smells wholesome and seductive! I knew it, he’s trying to use the food to seduce me and then use my body!’

A cold terrible revelation struck her like an ice bolt through the ribs.

’Perhaps this cursed cooking was the way he won Eluned’s heart over...’ Ther’Abella realized, her eyes widening in pure paralyzed shock.

The image flashed in her mind again... Lady Eluned, the supreme untouchable Goddess of the World Tree, seated at a rustic wooden table in Blessed Land, letting her divine guard down because this scheming barbarian kept feeding her warm savory stews and buttery pastries.

It made sense... He had probably poisoned her majestic senses with garlic and roasted poultry, softening her celestial resolve until she fell right into his waiting arms!

’Diabolical...’ Ther’Abella fumed, her fingers digging into the leather of her sleeves. ’A culinary trap! A slow insidious campaign against the divine soul... I must remain vigilant. I cannot allow myself to be swayed by mere melted butter and onions!’

"Sauce is ready," Silas announced, completely oblivious to the elaborate conspiracy unfolding in the elf’s head.

He lifted the heavy copper pot off the burner with a thick linen cloth, setting it down on a heat-proof iron trivet in the center of the prep island.

The chicken had simmered down into a thick, glossy golden-brown stew.

The rich savory gravy bubbled gently around the tender bite-sized morsels of meat and beside it on the island, he had warmed a tray of soft white dinner rolls he found in the bread drawer, their tops brushed with a light coat of melted butter and sea salt.

"Alright," Silas said, wiping his hands on a clean towel. "Let’s move this into the dining room before it cools down."

Aki grabbed the basket of warm rolls with an excited little hop, while Elowynn eagerly swept up the stack of porcelain plates and silver cutlery, holding them against her chest as she led the way out of the kitchen with her hips swaying in exaggerated arcs.

Silas carried the heavy pot by its brass handles, following the girls down the short hallway into the Keep’s formal dining room.

A long polished table made of pale birch wood sat in the center of the room, flanked by six high-backed chairs upholstered in soft sea-foam green velvet.

A large chandelier made of twisted glass vines hung from the vaulted ceiling, glowing with soft warm mana crystal light that illuminated the large arched windows overlooking the moonlit flower gardens outside.

Silas set the heavy copper pot down on the carved wooden runner in the center of the table.

THUMP!

Elowynn immediately set the plates down at four of the seats, leaning over the table with her hands clasped together as she stared into the steaming pot, her amethyst eyes shining with absolute star-struck wonder.

"By the moons, Lord Silas," Elowynn breathed, her lips parting in a breathless smile as she looked from the rich bubbling stew up to his face. "The food looks completely amazing."

Silas smiled, the warmth reaching his dark blue eyes as he pulled out the chair at the head of the table for Aki and took the seat beside it.

"Thanks, Elowynn. It’s just simple home-style cooking, but it beats military rations by a mile..."

Elowynn sat down on Silas’s right, smoothing her tight leather trousers over her thighs with a delighted little hum.

"A meal of this caliber deserves proper celebration, Lord Silas," Elowynn suggested, resting her chin in her palm as she gave him a coy heavy-lidded look. "A savory stew with rich buttery gravy like this... it would be even better with alcohol."

Aki paused in the middle of ladling a generous portion of the stew onto her plate, looking up with a sheepish apologetic grimace.

"We don’t actually have any spirits in the cellar yet, Elowynn," Aki murmured softly. "We haven’t had a single drop of alcohol in the Keep since we arrived... Not that I drink that much."

Silas let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his chin with a thoughtful hum as he suppressed the urge to give her a side-eye.

’Don’t drink that much...? You...?’

The moment she got her hand on alcohol, she became a drunk on the level of Thora.

"I think I can help with that," Silas said.

He closed his eyes, tapping directly into the spatial matrix of his vast Inventory.

During the frantic wild celebrations that Thora and the girls had thrown after their major runs with Thor, several unmarked bottles had ended up shoved into his pockets.

He had tossed them into his spatial storage without paying much attention, assuming they were just standard keg reserves from the lower brewery.

Silas flicked his wrist over the table.

VUUUM!

A heavy dark green glass bottle materialized out of thin air, settling onto the birch wood with a solid echoing clatter.

CLINK!

The bottle was roughly the size of a wine flagon, sealed with a thick plug of black wax that had been stamped with a small stylized runic crest.

"Here we go," Silas smiled, reaching into his pocket for a small utility knife and cleanly slicing through the wax seal.

POP!

The cork slipped free with a crisp pressurized hiss, and an instant later, an impossibly sweet aromatic vapor billowed out of the neck of the bottle...

Silas reached across the table, grabbing the four tall crystal goblets Elowynn had set out, and poured a generous, foaming splash into each one.

GLUG! GLUG! GLUG!

Ther’Abella had slipped into the dining room last, hovering near the doorway like a reluctant ghost, but the moment the golden liquid splashed into the glass, her gaze locked onto it.

Silas caught her eye, sliding the fourth goblet toward the empty seat at the foot of the table.

"Sit down, Ther’Abella," Silas instructed, his voice relaxed but firm. "Even elves need to hydrate... Eat some stew, drink some juice, and stop sulking by the wall."

Ther’Abella’s silver constellation marks flickered faintly, but after looking at the steaming plate of chicken and the glowing goblet, she stiffened her back, marched to the chair, and sat down with rigid, military posture, refusing to look him in the eye as she picked up her fork.

"To good neighbors and successful raids tomorrow," Silas toasted, raising his glass with a smile.

"To Blessed Land and Aki’s Wonderland!" Aki cheered happily, tapping her rim against his with a bright chime.

CLINK!

They all took a drink, followed immediately by their first hearty bites of the warm savory stew as the dining room fell into a sudden blissful silence, broken only by the clinking of silver against porcelain.

The chicken was tender enough to fall apart under the light press of a fork, thoroughly infused with the sweet richness of the caramelized onions and the earthy bite of the herbs.

The warm bread rolls soaked up the thick gravy like sponges, creating an explosion of comfort and flavor that made Aki let out a soft contented moan into her napkin.

...Then, they drank again.

The amber liquid was shockingly smooth, it didn’t burn the throat at all... It went down like cool silk, sweet as wildflower honey with a faint tingling aftertaste of fresh mint and sun-warmed grapes.

’It’s actually one of Thora’s sweeter ones.’

Within minutes, however, the atmosphere in the dining room shifted drastically.

The transformation was terrifyingly fast.

Silas was just taking his third forkful of stew when he noticed Aki’s cheeks turning a brilliant incandescent shade of scarlet.

Her azure eyes were wide, glassy, and swimming with an unfocused dizzying haze.

She leaned heavily to her left, propping her chin on her palm, but her elbow kept sliding across the polished birch wood, making her head bob up and down like a loose buoy in a harbor swell.

"Silas..." Aki giggled, her voice slurred and breathy as a goofy radiant smile spread across her face. "The... the ceiling has so many pretty sparkles. Did you put fairy dust in the gravy? It feels like... like my slippers are floating..."

On Silas’s other side, Elowynn was in an even worse state.

The fiery red-haired warrior was clutching her half-empty goblet with both hands, swaying back and forth in her chair with her mouth slightly open.

Her hair had tumbled completely out of its pins, spilling in wild curls around her burning face, her amethyst eyes gazing at Silas with an intense uncoordinated hunger that looked like she was trying to calculate how to swallow him whole.

"The ocean..." Elowynn slurred dramatically, a sudden hiccup jerking her entire torso forward.

HIC!

"The great majestic ocean of your soul, Lord Silas!" she proclaimed, her words stumbling over each other as she waved a buttery dinner roll wildly through the air like a cutlass. "The flavor is... it is a tempest! A glorious, passionate tempest of grease and majesty! You are... you are the most magnificent creature to ever grace the mortal sphere! I want to... I must pledge my eternal cutlasses to your bedchamber right this second—"

Before she could finish the sentence, her eyes rolled upward into her head.

Her spine went completely slack.

THUD!

Elowynn’s forehead slammed straight down onto the polished table, her arms sprawling out to the sides as she went limp, out cold in less than three seconds flat, snoring softly into the carved wood.

Silas blinked in pure shock, his fork freezing half an inch from his lips.

"What the hell...?"

Before he could stand up, a sudden frantic rustle of leather echoed from the foot of the table.

Ther’Abella was on her feet.

Her silver hair was completely disheveled, her constellation marks pulsing erratically with wild strobe-like flashes of sky-blue light.

Her eyes were unfocused, her pupils blown wide, and her cheeks were burning with a fierce dangerous crimson that extended all the way down to her exposed collarbones.

"Usurper!" she shouted, her voice thick and cracking wildly.

She took one staggering step forward, her knees buckling beneath her, and instead of drawing a weapon, she threw herself directly across the dining room table toward Silas.

SWOOSH!

Her boots knocked a bread plate flying, and she landed heavily across his lap with her slender arms shooting forward to grab two fistfuls of his dark jacket.

Her face was barely two inches from his nose, her hot honey-scented breath washing over his cheek as she glared into his dark blue eyes with fierce uncoordinated fury.

"You... you treacherous scoundrel!" Ther’Abella babbled, her words tripping over her tongue as she shook his lapels with all the strength left in her arms. "You think you can... can conquer the sacred boughs with garlic?! You think you can tie Lady Eluned to the bedposts with your... with your wicked human hands and get away with it?! I am the guard! I am the guardian of the sacred... the sacred tree... and I will never... I will never let you... Take... Take me instead!"

Her eyelids fluttered as her furious scowl melted into a dazed blank expression.

Her fingers went loose in his jacket, and her chin dropped heavily onto his left shoulder with a soft breathy groan.

PLOP!

Her entire body slumped over his chest like an empty leather sack, completely dead to the world.

Across the table, Aki watched the whole spectacle with a slow dopey blink.

"Goodnight, Ther’Abella..." Aki mumbled with a sweet sleepy giggle.

Her hands slipped off the edge of the birch wood with her chin tilted downward, and her forehead gently touched down against her empty plate with a soft final clatter.

CLINK!

Aki was out cold.

Silas sat frozen in his chair, his arms pinned to his sides by the limp sleeping elven guard currently drooling onto the shoulder of his jacket and slowly, he maneuvered his right hand free, reaching across the table to pick up the heavy dark green bottle.

He held it up to the warm light of the glass chandelier, turning the frosted container around until his thumb brushed over the small stamped label pasted near the base.

Silas squinted at the neat dwarven text stamped in dark ink across the paper.

[Slow Acting Blessed Drink.]