Irasae particularly disliked taverns and the stench of inebriated humans. This place was a miserable establishment. Men leered over their pints at the nervous serving girls.
The bartender fidgeted behind her place at the counter. She seemed to glance at everyone and everything all at once.
This whole gathering was full of tension. That was what typically happened when you placed two belligerent parties in one area.
The mages here had every right to feel uncomfortable with the Templars, and the Order with the Rebels. Even the drunkards intoxicated themselves to numb the sense of foreboding.
That led to more miniscule problems.
One of the servers squeaked. An offending hand curved around her behind. The squeeze the man was giving seemed to be digging in and not letting go.
Irasae felt a tap on her shoulder. Katoh’s pale fingers twiddled with Irasae’s braid, an obvious sign for: 'turn around, please.'
she asked, and her teacher nodded.
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