Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair (black authors fiction txt) 📕

should be a fistful of copper, but being a former adventurer himself, Ruff knew what the extra money was for, and he swept the two coins into his pocket with a nod. He pulled out a small key cast in bronze and handed it to me.

“Upstairs, first door on the left. Our cook is just about to start on dinner if you don’t mind waiting, or we have some bread and cheese to tide you over,” Ruff said.

I shook my head. “Waiting is perfectly fine with us.”

I looked down at Eris. I tapped her on the head to get her attention. Her compound eyes gazed up at me. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get a bath? The food should be ready once you’re finished.”

“You don’t want to join me?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “As appealing as that sounds, I'll stick down here and keep an eye on things.”

Eris nodded her head and took the key from me, making sure to keep her head covered, and walked up the creaking wooden steps to the second floor. I watched her open the door and go inside, then turned to find a good table. The best one was in the center of the room next to the fire. I’d have preferred my back to a wall, but beggars can't be choosy. Rather keep an eye on her. I can take care of myself.

I caught Ruff's attention and mimed taking a drink. Ruff nodded his head and held his arms to the side, raising and lowering them, respectively, like balancing a scale, asking how strong I wanted my drink. I raised my arm, telling him to make it strong. He nodded and grinned wide. Most adventurers liked our drinks strong.

He went over to a large cask and poured a frothy mug of ale with a strong head to it. Ice formed on the mug as he poured. Ice magic? Using frost stones to keep the casks cold, but they don’t come cheap. He brought over the cup and set it down with a heavy hand. Some of the ale sloshed over the side and ran down the glass like the world's tastiest volcano.

“Keep em’ coming, Ruff.”

He barked a laugh in acknowledgment and went back to the bar and tending to his other patrons. I raised the mug to my lips and took a generous swig. The ale was sweet and delicious, with a strong underbite of the booze. It was wonderful.

I drained the rest of the glass in an instant. Ruff had expected this and was already on his way with another mug. An ideal bartender.

“Go easier on the next few. They have a stronger bite than you’d think,” Ruff said.

I nodded to him, though I didn’t plan on heeding his advice; I had a pretty strong tolerance. I’d frequented enough of these establishments over the years that my Drinking Skill was nearly maxed. Couple more levels, and I'll unlock the final ability—no more hangovers for me.

I was thankful that whatever force sent me back to level one had spared my skills. They hadn’t changed. The hundreds of little skills like Woodworking or Cooking I’d picked up over the years were irreplaceable, and it would have been a pain to level them up again.

When I drained the second glass, Ruff gave me a warning look as he brought the next round. I slowed my consumption by a little, or I’d be shirtless dancing on the table in no time.

The minutes went by quickly, the drone of the other patrons mixed with the subtle music that a lone lute player was producing, which made me very sleepy. I hadn’t had the best night’s sleep of my life last night, and the table looked very inviting.

About the time that my tiredness was about to out-weigh my hunger, the door of our room opened and out walked Eris. She’d discarded most of her traveling clothes and had opted for one of my long-sleeved tunics again—my favorite burgundy one. Like with most of my shirts, it came well past her thighs and looked really good on her. She’d also kept her thin cloak and had it wrapped around her shoulders and head.

She made her way down the stairs, garnering many more looks than when she had gone up them the first time.

The creaking stairs drew everyone’s attention first; Eris’s legs are what kept them. The men—and a few women—eyed her hungrily as she bounced down the stairs. Oblivious to the looks the other patrons were giving her, Eris smiled at me and came over to the table. She pulled out one of the wooden chairs next to me, sitting in the chair and laying her head on my shoulder. The scent of an unfamiliar soap drifted from her damp hair. Strawberry and coconut.

Just as she got settled, our dinner was ready. The cook brought out our meals from a room that I could only assume to be the kitchen. He was a thin man with dark hair and gray eyes. He set our food down with a comment to enjoy and left, back to his domain.

Our food was a stew. It was venison and had a strong aroma as the steam wafted past me, though what had me salivating were the roasted potatoes and carrots. After a few days of trail rations and game, a proper meal was tantalizing.

We ate our fill and then some. Eris seemed to have a fondness for venison, as she kept eying the chunks of meat in my bowl and grinned when I spooned some into hers. When our meals were finished, Ruff came by and cleared our table. He set down another mug of ale and walked away, whistling a jaunty tune. I picked up the ale and was about to take a sip when Eris asked what it was.

“It’s ale.”

“You seem to like it. Can