Chapter 109: I Like This Place

In the middle of the field, two or three hundred men had gathered—men of different skin colors, strong bodies, and cheerful smiles. No matter what race or rank they were, at this moment they all looked the same. They were loudly greeting opponents who had been strangers just moments before, wishing each other good luck. Men who loved drinking and had some confidence in their capacity for alcohol were always lovable, because they usually didn’t hide their feelings. They were open-minded, easygoing good people. When you stood with them, you felt the world was simply lovely—no scheming, no deception. When you raised a glass, you didn’t need to say extra words, and you could find the best men in the world.

“Lieutenant Colonel Gid, you’re joining a competition like this too?” A tall soldier greeted me warmly. I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t stop me from talking with him amiably.

“What, you think I can’t drink?” I asked back, a little proudly.

He looked me up and down, a slightly contemptuous look in his eyes. Indeed, compared to the burly drinkers around me, I was pitifully thin and weak. But alcohol tolerance was not proportional to body size; Dakla, who was lying in some unknown corner right now, was the best evidence.

“Don’t look down on me, soldier. When it comes to drinking, you can’t judge by body size.” I patted his shoulder.

“I don’t believe you can beat me. My drinking capacity is one of the best in the entire spearmen company.” His words didn’t show much respect for me, which was exactly what I wanted. In the whole army, I was probably the most easygoing of my friends and the one who liked to mess around with the soldiers the most. I didn’t do this for any noble purpose or special intention; I just knew my own abilities well. The reason I was their officer was simply that I had a little more luck than others. I was far from being as outstanding as my friends, and even many ordinary soldiers were much better than me in various ways. If everything had been normal, I should have been the most average one among them, with no right at all to put on an officer’s airs in front of the soldiers. And if I did that, life would lose a lot of fun—like sitting here with the most ordinary soldiers, drinking freely, just as I was doing now.

“How about a bet? One month’s allowance.” I asked him with a crafty smile.

“Alright, it’s a deal!” He agreed without hesitation.

“You agreed so quickly, without even thinking it over carefully?” I pretended to look surprised and put on a timid face. At that moment, I felt like I was luring an innocent young man astray.

“Anyway, I won’t lose anything, sir. Your allowance is a lot higher than mine…”

It seemed that the drink brewed from this special Snake-Sleep Fruit was a very popular thing here. Seeing that such a grand competition was about to start, many people ran into their tents and brought out several wine jars, placing them in front of us. I roughly estimated that if they hadn’t taken out all the stored wine, then almost every tent had at least three or four wine jars. That amount of stored alcohol was quite astonishing. The native people here didn’t seem to have a very strong sense of private ownership; they were happy to share their things with others—though, from what I observed, wives were probably the exception. Some history books said this was a backward and ignorant side of these natives, but I thought that if everyone was so backward and ignorant, the world might actually become a better place.

At least we wouldn’t lose dear friends and family in wars over power and profit.

As the High Priest waved his staff, the manly competition officially began. In front of each person were piled at least four or five wine jars, and there were dedicated people to pour wine and count for them. I had no intention of going all out from the start; I just slowly let the delicious liquid dissolve in my mouth at a steady pace, and I even had time to savor its unusual aftertaste. If you paid close attention, you would find that this wine not only gave your mouth a crisp, refreshing sensation that ordinary alcohol couldn’t replace, but more importantly, when you drank it, you would feel the tender flesh of your mouth go numb as the liquor rolled over it. That unprecedented cool, clear feeling was actually the sensation produced when the numbed mouth was hit by the cool liquid. I guessed that was what made this wine most unique.

You see, while those boozy fellows were trying to overpower their opponents with speed, I could still carefully savor the wine’s characteristics, and my drinking speed wasn’t any slower than theirs. This was the difference between a wine-tasting master who had grown up immersed in wine vats and an ordinary drunkard. I thought the outcome was already very obvious.

By the time I drank my twelfth bowl, the first loser had already fallen. His face was only slightly flushed, not at all like the terrible state we usually saw in drunkards, with their faces bright red and reeking of alcohol. Except for speaking nonsense and going limp, he looked perfectly normal, like someone asleep and talking in his dreams. Of course, I didn’t know how to wake him from that sleep.

Once the first loser appeared, the second and third followed one after another. I thought eighteen bowls was probably the limit for an ordinary strong man drinking this wine. By this point, the potency of the first bowl had fully taken effect, and the liquid that had just felt soft, mellow, sweet, and refreshing now turned fierce. It pressed strong men down to the ground one after another, leaving them without the slightest strength to resist.

The soldier who had bet with me was indeed quite good. He was still holding on, and it looked like he could last a while longer. His gaze was just beginning to grow hazy, and a fine layer of sweat had appeared on his head. If I wasn’t mistaken, he should be able to drink that much more. However, relying on the alcohol tolerance of an ordinary brave man to win a month of my allowance was a bit too unrealistic.

After a while, people were falling drunk faster and faster. We could often see scenes where more than a dozen people at once toppled over and couldn’t get up. Of course, they were quickly carried off to the side to cool down. The children who had gathered to watch the excitement seized the moment and swarmed in, using charcoal and the like to play funny pranks on the drunk men’s faces. It looked like this was something of a special tradition here; no one came forward to stop these mischievous children. Of course, as for such an amusing thing, our soldiers wouldn’t stop them either.

“If you fall first, you’ll end up like that.” Taking advantage of the pause while someone was pouring wine for me, I pointed at a poor fellow who had just had a turtle drawn on his face and said to the soldier who had bet with me.

“Who would… end up like th-that? You-you better watch out yourself.” He answered haltingly, his tongue seeming completely out of control. I smiled but didn’t point out the fact that might hurt his pride.

When the fourth wine jar was emptied, only seven people remained in the field. Among the outsiders, only I and that soldier who was almost at his limit could still stay seated; all the rest were skilled drinkers from the host tribe. One person’s appearance surprised me—he was the most respected chieftain of the Giant Bull Tribe, our old friend Eckdin. There had been too many people just now, so I hadn’t seen him. Now I noticed that although his eyes were starting to grow murky, his hand holding the bowl was still steady. At the edge of the field, I had heard people say he was the greatest drinker in the entire tribe, but I hadn’t taken him too seriously. Now I knew that, unless something unexpected happened, the final contest for victory would be between him and me.

That soldier finally collapsed limply too, with a long string of drool from his mouth, mumbling something unknown. At that moment, I heard the soldiers on the outside shouting my name.

“Lieutenant Colonel Gid, hang in there! Don’t let them look down on us!”

“Lieutenant Colonel, you’re my idol!”

“Sir, we’ll always support you!”

“You’re the only one left, sir! For us, you have to hold on…”

…

They had never cheered for me so passionately before—not even when they were getting their allowance. This sound stirred a faint sense of satisfaction deep in my heart, giving me the illusion that I was a really remarkable person.

That’s right—at least here, in this arena of drinking contests, let me, an ordinary man, be in the spotlight for once. A man didn’t get praised like this often. If this praise had nothing to do with death, nothing to do with killing, nothing to do with all the worrying and heartbreaking things, why couldn’t I accept it calmly?

This was the feeling I liked. It was precisely because I liked this feeling that I enjoyed being a bartender and a tavern owner. This was my true nature, but because of the war, it seemed only when I drank wantonly and freely did this cheerful nature of mine revive.

Finally, the third-to-last competitor also fell, leaving only Eckdin and me in the center of the field. He raised his bowl in surprise and saluted me from afar:

“I’m sorry, young man. I never thought you were such a great warrior. I apologize for looking down on you earlier! I originally planned to do this after the drinking contest, but it looks like I’m afraid I won’t have that chance.”

“I’m just a drunkard who loves his cups, while you are a truly brave warrior. My respects to you, sir. I wish you and your people lasting health and peace.” I honestly expressed what was in my heart. It was strange—many people inexplicably linked good drinking capacity with bravery, as if those who could drink well must be brave. To me, that was an absurd conclusion that couldn’t withstand a moment’s refutation.

After drinking that bowl, Eckdin stood up shakily and said to me: “It seems I must give up this chance to win, young warrior. I don’t want to be dragged off by my feet—that would be too shameful for a Chieftain. You are the well-deserved victor. God Lumburi must be blessing you for some reason. Your performance tonight has gone beyond our understanding of heroes. Our tribe will always welcome you. You are our most welcome brother, our dearest friend! We no longer have any reason to doubt your sincerity. I suggest that these people who have come from the distant land of Delanmaya become not only our brothers and kin, but members of this land of ours. They are us, and we are one! We will share with them all the livestock and products on this land…”

Extremely enthusiastic cheers came from all around the field. At this moment, no one stood up to oppose Eckdin’s suggestion. The High Priest stood up with the support of his tribesmen and announced in his weak, hoarse voice:

“Everyone has seen with their own eyes what our friends from afar have done for us. We once did wrong things to them, but they generously forgave us. God Lumburi is happy about your arrival, dear brothers. He does not object to this land gaining a new master. Welcome! What I want to say is not ‘welcome for coming from afar,’ but ‘welcome home.’ You are home, friends. You are home!”

The world was just so unpredictable. What Roll’s perseverance hadn’t won, what Fred’s wisdom hadn’t won, what Dakla’s strength hadn’t won, and even what Millia’s sacrifice hadn’t won—I had actually won it in such a clumsy way. In a sense, what I won for our army was not just the recognition of allies, but becoming one of the masters of this land. From this moment on, we could no longer be considered a wandering army. We had land that we could control—a piece of land that was poor, but open to us with open arms.

The dull-witted soldiers hadn’t yet realized what Eckdin’s words meant, but Fred already had. He made a joyful gesture at me, then stood up and responded loudly to the friendly words of Eckdin and the High Priest:

“Thank you, respected elder, and thank you as well, friendly Mr. Eckdin. Your words fill me with heartfelt joy. You have provided a warm home for homeless wanderers, and we will always remember your kindness. I suggest we together pay tribute to the great God Lumburi. May he forever protect our home, and may he bless our friendship, so that it lasts forever and ever!”

Fred’s words were generous and appropriate, seizing the best moment—it was equivalent to tactfully accepting our identity as hosts. We knew this godsent good news was too important for us. We hadn’t expected to get a base of our own so quickly, thus ending our aimless wandering life. Fred’s words stirred up a wave of friendliness in the field. Countless native residents and our soldiers hugged each other, expressing their inner feelings in the warmest ways they could.

I felt I should do something to match Fred’s words, so I casually picked up a clay jar full of wine, held it high above my head, and said loudly: “Dear friends, I don’t know what way I should use to express my respect to the great God Lumburi, but I know what way I should use to repay your kindness. This is such a beautiful night. Let us enjoy ourselves to the fullest and drink until we’re drunk!”

After saying this, I raised my head and poured the wine from the jar into my mouth in one breath. The rushing wine flowed into my throat with a sweet, happy taste, and then seemed to travel through my limbs and veins with my blood, making me feel comfortable and warm.

No matter when, using alcohol to express a man’s feelings was never wrong. The enthusiastic hosts began to go crazy. They probably had never seen such a bold way of drinking as mine. One by one, their eyes widened, and they could only reply with screams to my enthusiasm. The atmosphere at the scene reached its peak. People cheered and leaped, casually pulling the people next to them to their feet, expressing their emotions with the ancient, simple, yet passionate dances of the natives. Now, not a single person still sat in their seat. Even the cold-faced Roll was forcibly dragged into the crowd by Evlinna, joining everyone hand in hand in a circle, dancing gracefully around the bonfire. Everyone cheered so loudly that I believed if the sky had a lid, the excited crowd would have tipped it over by now.

Countless excited natives rushed into the field to grab my hands. I only saw all kinds of hands waving in front of me, but I didn’t know which one to grasp. In the chaos, two hands pulled hard at the corner of my clothes and dragged me out through the layers of the crowd, toward a quieter place at the side. I didn’t struggle or resist. I was even a little glad that someone had rescued me from the crowd in such a chaotic scene. When we arrived at a quiet, empty corner, I finally saw who had brought me here.

It was Evlinna and Roll. Roll now looked so normal that it was abnormal. I knew it was weird to say that, but it really was so. Although he remained as quiet, cold, and silent as ever, he no longer had that frightening look of deathly pallor on his face. At this moment, Roll looked like he had during his recruit days. His silence now was due to his introverted personality. Though his face was expressionless, his complexion was rosy, and his eyes carried a glow that made people feel they could approach him. I had never seen a person change so greatly in such a short time. I didn’t know whether it was the warm, friendly atmosphere of the scene or the gentle, lovely Evlinna that had changed my friend so much.

“Mr. Gid, I knew you were a very remarkable person, but I didn’t expect you to be this remarkable. You must be the warrior most favored by God Lumburi. My goodness, even Uncle Eckdin can’t compare to you…” The girl who had originally been extremely gentle was now almost shouting. Her eyes sparkled with an unusual look of amazement, and she gazed at me with the most respectful expression she could manage.

“I…” I didn’t know how to answer. No matter what I had done, wasn’t such praise a bit too much?

“These… are gifts from my friends for you. I hope you… you’ll like them.” Realizing she had lost her composure, Evlinna looked a little shy. She lowered her head, then took out a rather large cloth bundle from behind her. Inside were all kinds of bone ornaments and delicate woven grass items; there seemed to be quite a lot.

Feeling uneasy, I accepted these gifts. Looking around to make sure no one would hear my question, I quietly asked Evlinna about the doubt that had been hidden in my heart these past few days:

“Evlinna, let me ask you—what kind of deity is God Lumburi exactly?”

Evlinna looked at me in surprise, unsure whether she was more shocked by my ignorance of the deity or my shamelessness in pretending to believe. She thought for a moment, then said to me:

“God Lumburi is the god who governs the growth and reproduction of all things in the forest. He is the guardian of plants, the protector of the continuation of life, and the brother of the Goddess of Death. He is a kind father and also a strict teacher. We not only respect him, but also love him, because he not only gives us food, but also teaches his children the skill of brewing fine wine, allowing us to enjoy the pleasures of life.”

The God of Wine?!

So that’s how it was.

I began to understand the reason why I had received such unprecedented respect and status.

I like this place.