Winston’s prediction was on the money, and the inn was packed to the gills by a quarter past six. The entire town had turned up to find out what the Count of Estos was doing in their humble town.

“So what was he after?” Greg demanded as he joined the crush around the bar.

“As I told Carson, it was a case of mistaken identity,” Winston replied as he pulled a beer for Franklin.

“None of that!” Carson slurred as he stood on top of one of the chairs. He and Ogden had settled their business before the crowd arrived, and he was already several drinks in, celebrating his newfound wealth. “A round of Carver’s for everyone, on me!”

The guests roared with approval. The sound was so loud that it almost took the roof of the inn off, and Louis winced as he ran a tray of clean glasses to the bar.

“Bring this empty back to the kitchen, would you?” Winston asked, pointing at an empty keg as Louis began unloading the glasses.

“We just tapped that,” Louis gasped.

“The crowd is in a drinking sort of mood,” Winston smiled as he began pouring out shots of whisky.

“They’ll all be spending the night here, the rate they’re drinking,” Louis remarked sourly. Now that they were hard at work again, the boy found the Count’s accusation that Winston was the Kingslayer even more farfetched. It was hard enough for him to believe he had fought in the war, never mind being the one responsible for so much death and destruction.

“You’d also better make sure we have enough clean blankets when you have the time,” Winston suggested with a wink. “One or two are already looking like they won’t make the trip home.”

A loud clinging sound echoed through the inn as Carson tapped the side of his glass with a spoon. The room fell silent, and all eyes went to him. A broad smile split his face and he swayed briefly before speaking, “Did you lads know…” he paused briefly to let off a hearty belch, “Did you lads know that it’s been months since I’ve had to buy a drink in Estos?”

“Show off!” Greg shouted good naturedly. Carson was a braggart by nature, who wasn’t afraid to let the people of this town know that he was better than them, but the old brewer was in a good mood on account of the free round he’d been bought.

“And the reason it’s been months since I’ve had to buy a drink in Estos,” Carson slurred, “Is because all the merchants are dying to know who my mystery buyer of vintage liquors is.”

“Then it’s a miracle they haven’t found out by now!” Roger shouted.

“No, no, I love you all, so that means I can trust you!” Carson laughed, “Anyway, a toast! To my best kept secret!”

“To Winston!” the others cheered.

“Here, finish pouring the drinks,” Winston said to Louis, “I think I’d better get the attention off Carson before he lets slip just how much he’s carrying on him.”

Louis nodded and took over pouring out the whiskies. The people of the town were generally trustworthy people, but with the wagons not running until the spring, Carson’s special trip aside, many of the miners would not be paid until then and a few had come across hard times and the amount of money Carson was now worth could change the lives of many.

Winston climbed on top of a step stool and raised his hands over his head. “Thank you, friends,” he called out, “It warms my heart to see so many of you in here today, out of concern for me, no less!”

“Hooray for Winston!” Robert cried.

“Hooray!” the others echoed.

“Now friends,” Winston cried as the others fell silent, “This reminds me of a story! Who wants to hear it?”

“Story!” the others cheered.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“This is the story of how I gained an appreciation for fine wines!” Winston announced to more cheers, “It was during the War of Retribution when Ethan and I had been sent to scout a Hulvan town in advance of our main army.”

There were a few boos, but they were good natured. Over thirty years ago, Hulva had invaded Carthus, their neighbours to the north, breaking the long peace between the two kingdoms. The Hulvan invasion had been largely unpopular, and when the Carthuns drove their invasion back and entered their lands, the Hulvans could only muster a token resistance to defend their own lands. Their nobility fled to the friendly Central Kingdoms in the east, leaving Carthus to rule over their southern neighbours. They had largely been fair administrators, and there was now little animosity between the peoples of the two kingdoms.

“And with us was Lady Dahlia,” Winston continued, allowing a smile to spread across his face at the memory, drawing a few catcalls from his audience, “She was a mage of wealthy upbringing and Ethan and I had been assigned to protect her.”

“Describe her!” Robert demanded.

“I’m afraid my memory isn’t quite what it used to be,” Winston smiled, bowing his head apologetically, “You will have to use your imagination.”

“Anyway,” he continued quickly, before the crowd could object, “We come across a large estate on the edge of a deserted town. Our orders were to report back if we found no sign of the enemy, but we were starving. The cowardly Hulvans folded like a house of soggy cards at the Narrows, and we had driven deep into Hulva so quickly that our supply lines could not keep up.”

There were more boos. Louder this time, but Franklin the hunter shouted over the din, “That we did! The nobles had long since fled, why were we supposed to stay behind and die in a war they started?”

“So our supply lines were inadequate,” Winston paused and made a face, “Our own leaders didn’t expect so many of us to survive the assault, and so, lowly peasant soldiers like ourselves had to forage to survive.”

Winston paused to take a large swig of ale. “Ah, just thinking about those days fills me with great thirst.”

He looked back to the crowd and smiled. “Of course, Ethan was there too, and he decided that there was no better place to forage than a noble’s manor. I, being the conscientious soul that I am, pointed out that entering a noble’s manor, even an enemy one, without our superior’s permission was a floggable offence. However, he put it to a vote, and our squad’s hunger overrode our fear of the lash and in we went.”

Winston drained the rest of his ale and shook his head. “That was the first we saw of how nobles lived… I think the manor belonged to a Lord Belfilo… and the grounds were huge. Large enough to fit half of Chalybe inside comfortably, but being as hungry as we were, we didn’t stay long to admire the opulence of our surroundings, no. We made our way straight to the kitchen.”

The landlord paused to lick his lips and Louis felt his stomach rumble as he tried to imagine how the nobility ate.

“Alas,” Winston sighed, “Our hopes were dashed. Lord Belfilo had long since fled, and all that remained in his kitchen was mouldy bread.”

Winston hung his head theatrically. “So, there we were, dejected and famished.”

He then raised his head and a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eye, “But our fearless leader was not to be deterred. He delivered a rousing a speech on how he refused to believe that this was all the richest house he had ever seen had to yield and that a great bounty would be waiting for us if we would just go out and look for it!”

“And so, though exhausted and starving, we fanned out to discover what treasures the Lord of Cerathin’s manor was hiding.” A smile crept across Winston’s face. “And find it we did, my friends. Not five minutes later, Lady Dahlia found a cellar beneath the very kitchen we were in.”

Winston’s eyes widened in wonder, “It was slightly larger than this inn and almost twice the height of this room, shelves lined from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, rows upon rows of the finest wines, whiskeys, and cognacs from across Enris, Carthus, Hulva, the Central Kingdoms and beyond….”

“And this is where Lady Dahlia proved her worth again,” Winston grinned, “She chose the first bottle for us to drink… a Fencora 31… And it was divine.”

The innkeeper’s eyes glazed over for a moment as he recalled the fond memory. “Of course, my palate was not able to fully appreciate it then, and we were all starving, so we were soon completely drunk…”

Winston chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh how furious our Lord Commander was when he found us. Dereliction of duty was the least of the charges against us… We were spared the death penalty only because we were in the midst of a war.”

“How were you punished, then?” Greg asked.

“Oh, there was a light flogging, followed by ten days of no food, and to top it all off, we were to transfer the shit from the nobles’ latrines out to the edge of the encampment for the next month,” Winston replied with a smile, “But the memory of that first glass of wine carried me through those difficult times.”

“What say you open that bottle of Fencora 31 on your top shelf and share a taste with the rest of us?” Robert suggested to roars of approval.

“Alas my friends, I have but one bottle,” Winston said with an apologetic bow, “Even if each of you were to have a sip, which would not do the wine justice, I would not have enough for all. Perhaps one day, on a special occasion, and if our friend Carson can get his hands on a case or two, I might be able to share.”

“Well you heard him, Carson, get to it!” Robert laughed.

“Oh believe me, I will,” Carson shouted in return, “I would be able to buy a new wagon with the commission alone!”

“To Carson, and to Winston!” Ogden bellowed.

“Cheers!”