Swords of the Imperium (Dark Fantasy Novel) (The Polaris Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

profited from the influx of milligrad while being protected from booze-induced destruction, thanks to the watchful eyes of the Black Cross.
    Taki sipped at his tankard of beer and let out a satisfying, sour belch. Since the first time he’d gotten smashed on rotgut in the Duchy of Kosovo, he had grown more tolerant of alcohol. Now, he even enjoyed the taste of certain ales, though he still could not comprehend the appeal of wine other than as a cheap intoxicant. The louse-bitten hole he was currently drinking in was called the Dawnbringer. One of the larger swill houses in the village, it offered filling fare and nightly music. Drinking was also a great way to forget what had happened in Athenaeum. It had been a day since their return, but nothing seemed to have changed. At first, he’d thought of asking Lotte for advice but had quickly quashed the idea.
    “Good showing, Natalis! I can smell you from here.” Draco chortled as he fanned the air in front of his face. He reached into a wooden bowl and tore a piece of black bread away from a communal loaf before dipping it into a mash of chickpeas and sorghum.
    “Just keep it coming,” Taki grunted, and helped himself to a dollop of the sour dip. A wealth of food and drink was set before him on their spindle table. Normally, he would’ve been aghast at pissing away all of the squad’s funds at the taverna, but considering the danger that loomed around every corner, he simply didn’t care anymore. He was on his fourth tankard. Or was it the seventh? He’d lost count. Twanging chords from the zither-and-fiddle duo playing nearby drowned out any nascent misgivings.
    “Hey, if the purser’s not complaining, then we must be doing something right,” Lotte said. Like Taki, she’d also drained more than her fair share of tankards. She grabbed a full one and raised it. “A toast, you minions!”
    Taki raised his pint. “Er, to what?”
    “To Tirefire the Lesser! May the glorious name of our squad e’er be—”
    “Consecrated in shame!” Draco said, and drained his mug.
    “Show some pride, damn you,” Lotte said. “We’re just as good as the other companies. Even though we, like, lost a castle and let a duke get killed and got our arses kicked by…”
    “Heathen scum,” Draco said with a laugh.
    Lotte waved a sausage to Karma and Hadassah, who were in the process of furiously making out. “Hey! No fucking in public, you two.”
    Hadassah flashed a fig in response and drained her beer before returning her attention to petting.
    “I hate couples,” Draco said. “Happy people in love should just die.”
    “Sinners.” Lotte ripped a chunk of sausage away with her teeth.
    Draco grinned. “Say, I’ve got an idea, Captain. Why don’t the rest of us poor saps all hit a cathouse?”
    Taki raised an eyebrow. “You mean, hire a…”
    “Good idea, Emreis,” Lotte said. “I’m lonely enough to bang either of you at this point, and that’s a problem.”
    “A true emergency!” Draco howled. “Off we go, then. I’m gonna choose me a wench who looks like Hundred-Arms Mezeta!”
    Taki’s cheeks reddened, and he turned away so Lotte couldn’t see him. He still hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to be kissed by her. He’d become awkward in her presence since that time but hadn’t found the gumption to talk about it with her. But if she was lonely, and they were both drunk enough, perhaps there was no better moment.
    And if I’m to meet my end soon, I might as well. For all the good it’ll do. He reached for her. “Captain, a word?”
    Before he could speak further, someone checked him from behind, and the contents of his tankard sloshed in his lap. His bolted from his stool and frantically tried to wipe the sodden mess from his leggings. Beer worked its way through the seams in the leather and chilled his manhood.
    To have his clothing fouled was irksome, and for it to happen in front of his squad was embarrassing, if ultimately inconsequential. But to