Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair

Author:Grayson Sinclair [Sinclair, Grayson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Starlit Publishing
Published: 2020-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15 - The Hand That Holds Time In Its Palm

It was sudden enough that it sent my flight or fight reflexes screaming. My buzz faded away in seconds as four people walked in. They swaggered through the door like they owned the place, cocky and utterly full of themselves.

I calmed myself and went back to my drink, watching them out of the corner of my eye. They were adventurers—that much was clear, but I couldn’t tell anything beyond that. The one who walked in first seemed to be the leader of the merry band.

He was handsome, though there was a falseness about it, as if he were wearing a mask. He had short auburn hair, styled precisely, and muted brown eyes. His features were elegant but not feminine. Long, yet symmetrical.

He probably has women swooning over him all the time. He sported medium plate mail polished to a shine and an ostentatious silver scimitar encrusted with gemstones.

The three members that followed seemed much tamer in comparison. All tall and with good looks, but not nearly as so over the top as their leaders. All male and each wearing a slightly different style of armor, but each bore the same crest—a guild logo of some sort—a hand gripping a barbed hourglass.

The hand that holds time in its palm.

The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the windows, and I was about to finish my drink and take the now clearly drunk Eris upstairs when the leader opened his big mouth.

“Hey, old man. How about a round for me and the boys?” he called to Ruff as they strutted over to the only other empty table available, the one coincidentally next to ours.

I barked out a laugh. It slipped out before I could stop it. Leader and his goons turned to glare at me. Their noses upturned like they thought they were better than me.

“Something I said funny to you, friend?” Leader asked, stressing the word, making it clear that he didn’t actually consider us friends. That broke my heart.

I turned to face him, Eris was now hugging me, whispering incoherently. Giving her that much alcohol probably wasn’t my best idea.

“Calling Ruff old is like the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think? We’re all old men these days, friend, even if we don’t look it,” I told him as I drained the last of my ale.

He chuckled at that, and his glare softened, even if it didn’t fade completely. “Yeah. Suppose you’re right about that,” he said. “Maybe that was a little rude of me.”

He glanced over his shoulder to call out to Ruff.

“Hey, Ruff, let me buy this man here a drink. In fact, next round for everyone is on me!”

A cheer rang out across the tavern. Everyone then tuned out the antics of our new arrivals—buying a round usually also bought you a considerable amount of goodwill with the patrons.

The leader brought out a silver and flicked it to Ruff, who caught it deftly while balancing a tray of ale in one hand.

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