Chapter 34: Elves, Egos, and Enemies
The next morning dawned with a hangover of roasted meat and bad decisions. Rimuru lay half-sunken in a barrel, groaning softly. Drake was sprawled over three chairs, one leg dangling and an empty mug clutched like a prized trophy.
Kaijin entered the tavern's backroom and clapped. "Alright, heroes. Up. We've got work to discuss."
Drake grumbled. "If 'work' is code for coffee, I'm in."
After a sluggish breakfast and a few slaps to the face (mostly from Kaijin), the five of them sat around a table. Rimuru perked up, bouncing in place.
"So," Garm said, "what brought you two to Dwargon anyway?"
"Craftsmen," Rimuru said. "We're building a village out in the Jura Forest. It's going well, but goblins… not exactly architects."
"Most of their construction methods involve mud and hope," Drake added. "And falling over. A lot."
Kaijin raised a brow. "So you need builders?"
"And blacksmiths," Drake said. "Rimuru wants walls. I want weapons."
"He also wants a hot spring."
Drake pointed. "That was your idea!"
Rimuru shrugged innocently.
The conversation turned to tales from the forest—the direwolves, the evolving goblins, the Pokémon—and how Rimuru had named half the village by accident.
"They kept asking! It'd be rude not to!" Rimuru insisted.
"You passed out for ten hours afterward," Drake said flatly. "It was hilarious."
Kaijin chuckled. "Well, if you need skilled hands, we might be able to help. Vesta doesn't pay half as well as he brags."
That earned a round of grumbles from the brothers.
Then Kaijin leaned in, a mischievous grin spreading. "Tell you what. There's a bar near the west wall. Special kind of place. Run by elves."
Rimuru froze.
"...Elves?"
Kaijin nodded. "Elves."
Rimuru was already vibrating.
"DRAKE. WE'RE GOING."
Drake smirked. "Oh boy. Here we go."
The bar, "Emerald Bloom," was a sensory overload. Soft lighting, polished wood, gentle harps playing in the background—and most importantly, beautiful elf girls in glittering dresses serving drinks.
Rimuru launched through the door like a guided missile. "HELLO, I AM YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND!"
The elves, to everyone's surprise, squealed in delight.
"A talking slime! He's so squishy!"
"Look at his glow!"
"He's like a bouncy stress orb!"
Rimuru was promptly lifted onto a plush pillow and surrounded by elf girls cooing and petting him.
Drake leaned on the bar with a heavy sigh. "I miss when he was scared of squirrels."
The bartender, an older elf with tired eyes, slid him a mug. "First time here?"
"Unfortunately not my last."
Behind them, Rimuru was reciting Pokémon names like they were battle poetry. One elf named Sylri clapped with every fiery description. Another, Narien, tried to balance a cherry on Rimuru's head. Success rate: 40%.
A third elf, blonde and cheeky, leaned closer to Rimuru. "So... do you have a girlfriend?"
"Nope! Just a nation to govern and a horde of goblins!"
Drake sipped his ale. "What a catch. A blob with taxes."
Narien giggled. "You must be his big brother. You both have the same 'I'm surrounded by idiots' look."
Drake raised his mug. "It's a permanent condition."
The girls burst into laughter. Rimuru bounced. "See, they love me!"
Drake muttered, "They'd love a bread roll if it had a sparkle filter."
Then the door opened.
A hush fell.
Lord Vesta entered, adorned in regal reds and dripping arrogance.
"Ah, so this is where the circus went," he sneered. "And here I thought I'd find something of class."
Kaijin and his brothers stiffened.
Vesta's eyes fell on Rimuru. "A monster. Of course. Frolicking in filth. You're a disgrace to Dwargon."
Drake's eyes glowed.
Vesta kept going. "You think you're clever, but we'll see how far your freak show gets you. Monsters building a village? Laughable."
Then he turned to Kaijin. "And you. Slumming with beasts now?"
Drake stood. The room dropped in temperature.
A memory surged.
Rain streaked across the glass as Drake Romanoff lay prone on a rooftop, scanning the manor below through a thermal scope. He wasn't a super-soldier or sorcerer. Just a man. A deadly one.
His voice murmured in the mic, "Two guards on patrol, east wing. Window access open."
He zipped the rifle away. This was a close job.
With silent precision, he dropped from the roof, rolled through wet gravel, and slipped in through the second-story balcony. In the hallway, he ducked behind a curtain as footsteps passed. He moved like vapor—knife in one hand, silenced pistol in the other.
Downstairs, the ballroom glowed with light. The minister stood at the center, raising a toast to corrupt deals.
Drake entered through the servant's passage.
One guard.
Neck snapped.
Two more.
Double tap. Silence.
He slid into the study where the minister had retreated.
"I know who you are! I have friends—"
Drake shot the vase beside his head. The man dropped to the floor.
"You sold out children for oil money. I'm not here for justice. I'm here for balance."
One clean strike.
Drake disappeared into the storm.
Back in the present, Drake's eyes were glowing red.
"Vesta."
The pompous noble turned.
"Wh—"
SMACK.
Drake's fist collided with Vesta's face. The noble flew backward, crashed over a table, and slammed into the wall with a sound like a collapsing wardrobe.
Silence.
Then someone coughed.
Kaijin sighed. "Well. It was a nice night while it lasted."
Rimuru, Drake, and Myrd sat in a holding cell. Again.
"At least the bars are prettier this time," Rimuru offered.
Drake cracked his neck. "Remind me next time to let the slime do the talking."
Myrd chuckled. "Worth it."
A muffled voice echoed from the hallway.
"You think they'll bring us dinner soon?"
Rimuru perked up. "You hear that, Drake? I think I have enough charm points to flirt my way to food."
Drake rolled his eyes. "Gods help us if they send in another elf."
And outside, the city of Dwargon held its breath.