Riana the Weapons Collector

Riana sat in a tavern and celebrated a successful contract. More precisely, she came to her senses after a stormy celebration the day before. Stix-damn, take it, last night she knocked over at least half a dozen pints of beer (which was not of high quality, but it hit her head notably). And then she also dragged some handsome boy to the second floor. In the morning it turned out that the boy dreamed of joining the Guild of Blades, that is, Riana’s guild. The girl sincerely hoped that the candidate would fail, because regularly meeting in the halls of the Guild with the one with whom she slept drunk … well, no.

From not the most cheerful reflections, Riana was pulled out by noise from the street. He got closer and closer until he materialized into a squat, overweight man in garishly bright silk robes. The fat man stumbled into the tavern, looked around in a haunted manner, then, with surprising agility for his complexion, grabbed the nearest chair and propped it against the door from the inside. The few visitors at this time shrugged their shoulders and returned to drinking and gambling. On the other side of the door there were stomping and cursing.

– Respectable citizens of Vallor! – The fat man’s voice broke every now and then, under his left eye a fresh black eye swelled like a pink bud. – Do not let the robbery! Protect an honest man from violence! I conjure all the gods!

The drunkards in the tavern paid no more attention to these screams than to the flies on the ceiling. Someone banged on the door. The old chair creaked and cracked, and from everything it was clear that he would delay those who pursued the fat man for a short time. Frant glanced around the hall and stopped at Riana. The cuirass, polished to a shine, and a huge axe near the chair unmistakably pointed out to the “victim of violence” a possible source of help.

– Good lady, save the unfortunate, I pray! I beg on my knees! – The fat man actually fell on his knees in front of Riana. The mercenary gave him a contemptuous glance, finished her beer and threw to the kneeling one:
– Contract.

– What? – Frant was confused for a couple of seconds. – Contract? What contract, why? Do you want money, dear lady? I give five gold and no contracts, all right? – It seems that someone really wanted to do without names and official documents.

– No contract – no protection. More beer! – The last remark was addressed to a buxom waitress, who was watching the scene with interest. The door was pounded with redoubled force, a leg flew off the chair.
– Bbbbitch…

– You talking to me? – Riana casually stroked the ax shaft.
– No, no, no, no, no, what are you! – It was a pity to look at the fat man, he looked around at the door every second, and his silk clothes became dark stains from sweat.

The door of the tavern, meanwhile, could not stand it, crunched, the chair flew away and three people tumbled into the hall. The tallest of them held in his hands a man’s silk underwear, with which he pointed to the unfortunate frant at the feet of Riana:
– Casano de Van! You bitch’s offal! Decided to seduce my wife! Decided that I wouldn’t know! Decided to cuckold me! – De Van hiccupped and seemed to bounce a little at every replica of the sturdy. – Now I’ll tear off your “thing”, you overdressed goat! And these guys will add more. With their wives, you, too, they say, had fun.

Riana the Weapons Collector, whistled softly. Casano de Van. Personal Secretary of the Master of Money Thibaut de Bazan. It is not surprising that the lover of other people’s wives wanted to do without names and contracts. It can cost a position, or even a head. While she was thinking, one of the deceived husbands jumped up to Casano and gave him a powerful kick. De Van did an acrobatic somersault, drove his head into the rack and groaned:
– I sign a contract.

– This is a completely different matter! – From under her cuirass, the Weapons Collector produced a contract form and a pouch of writing implements. She got up from her chair, took the axe and walked over to Casano, over whom all three cuckolds were already looming.
– Gentlemen, would you please leave my employer alone? – Riana’s voice exuded sweetness in half with poison.

– What?! You would go from here, whor… – The man stopped in mid-sentence and folded in half. Now his dignity was violated not only figuratively, but also literally – with the shaft of a battle axe. The two comrades of the rude man took a step back, and Riana, taking advantage of the free space, thrust a contract and a pen under the nose of de Van, who was lying on the floor. He briskly, the skills of the secretary affected, entered his name and signed. Then he crawled under the nearest table.

– Well, the contract is signed, I’m in business! – Riana straightened her cuirass, intercepted the axe with both hands in the manner of a spear, and drove the axe head into the jaw of one of the cuckolded trinity. The last unbeaten man suddenly jumped up on the table and yelled:
– Ten gold to the one who knocks out the girl!

The amount was impressive; Riana was attacked from all sides … But after a few minutes, those who could crawl crawled out of the tavern, the rest were carried out by their comrades. Casano paid the contract and also left. Riana, known as the Weapons Collector, pulled the surviving table closer to her, set down her axe, sank into a chair, and made an inviting gesture towards the waitress. It seems that in this tavern she will linger for another day.