'So, how did we go from an existential crisis and saying you don't do enough to this? Dropping everything and partying like there's no tomorrow?' Paula asked. And yeah, a valid question.
But by then Konrad might have drunk too much to understand or care.
"Friends're important," he grunted, balancing with a beer keg. "I wouldn't be here without them."
"Well said," Dmitry yelled, too, downing his own drink.
And before he could even finish, Bor brought him the next round, while Welf—
Ah, no. It seemed like the center of this celebration had already passed out.
Hah. For being so huge and strong, he sure couldn't hold his alcohol.
Meanwhile, others could drown in the drinks and still stay rigid, grumpy, and sober.
"Why am I here?" Zoltan muttered, being one of them, while his master drank, belying his age.
His visible one, that is.
Konrad wasn't sure what the legal drinking age was in Kasserlane—if it existed. But at two hundred years old, the Green Mage was more than qualified, even if he didn't look like it now.
"For once, I agree with Konrad," he hollered. "Sometimes it's important to let the steam out."
Speaking of which—
"That was some quality steel you've transmuted, kid," Roach yelled into his ear. "I could make some crazy ammunition out of it if I infused it with my magic."
"Why do you need more when these always return to you?" Soap asked, poking at his steel balls.
Not the ones in his pants, but the ones in their, uh—never mind.
"I need this for a steam tank," Konrad protested, too, trying to shield the precious materials with his body, but—um. Right. They weren't even at the smithy anymore.
Whoever thought rebuilding Halaima's oldest pub was the priority needed a raise.
It definitely wasn't his first wife. Lily tore that old dingy building down to raise a government office in its place, which was all nice and useful, but—
Imagine if they had to drink in there?
Then he would have actually felt guilty about it.
'Hah. As you should,' Paula scoffed again, but her voice was more muted now.
Why wasn't she scolding her brother instead? Strelok had already drunk himself into a deep sleep in a corner. And the old Stalker could actually hold his drinks, so—he must have had a lot.
'Or, you know, he worked hard on catching up on magic, and was tired.'
Sure, sure, he was.
All these men were.
Whether they fought off nomads or extradimensional invaders, they all worked hard.
Thus, Konrad gathered them all here to celebrate Welf's discharge.
Only Father Alastair turned him down, and—
Well, he wasn't sure how he would have faced him, anyway.
But a party without women had its own charm.
"So you want to bring the Industrial Revolution to Kasserlane?" Soap asked, though Konrad had already forgotten what they were talking about. "What's next? We're going nuclear?"
"No, no, no, no," he yelled, shaking his head so hard he almost fell. "No more radiation, please."
"Gahaha, so you actually irradiated the Heavens?!" Roach hollered. "That's my guy."
Why did he invite those two, anyway?
"We need to feed these people," Konrad tried his best to explain. But talking was hard. "A steam mill seemed like the best idea. Turns out it's not that simple to make one, though—"
"I could've made a mill that turned on its own," Roach claimed, taking another sip.
"Yeah, the guy's pretty good with kinetic magic," Midori-kun nodded, too. "But an actual, working steam engine would put Halaima on the scientific map. It won't need magic to run."
That. That.
Though he still wasn't sure how they would operate it. They needed to decide whether to use wood, charcoal, or magic runes. The furnace would have had to be a different size for each.
'So you're too drunk to understand me, but when it comes to that, you're still thinking straight?'
And yeah. This is why he didn't want to invite any women.
Too bad, he couldn't exactly boot Paula out.
No. Wait. He could.
Crimson taught him a way to seal her, but—
'Never mind me, enjoy your party,' the parallel brain noted, remaining silent.
And so he did.
He gathered quite a few friends here, all so different, with their own backgrounds. And he could never have gotten this far without them. Some were even missing, too, but—
Well, no. He wouldn't have invited Vargas, even if he were still around.
But without Welf—snoring, splayed out on the ground—he would have died at least a dozen times. Zoltan taught him his first runes when Maou Midori wasn't around.
Bor helped him organise his first volunteers into a fighting force and led the charges.
Midori-kun, Roach, Soap and Strelok would help him defeat the final boss.
And Dmitry? They had known each other for only a month, but their bond was already strong.
"What the hell's going on here?" Konrad grunted, entering the pub but—
No, wait. He couldn't have entered now when he was already drunk inside.
And even if he weren't, he couldn't see himself coming in, right?
'Oh boy, you're wasted so hard,' Paula whispered in his messy mind.
But still. It was his voice, and many of his friends also froze when they saw the newcomer.
It took him way too long to realise that, yeah.
He forgot to invite someone else, too.
"Nimrod?!" Konrad—the real one this time—scowled.
He had a twin, after all.
But hey, this party was for his friends, not for that bastard.
"So you're here, celebrating what that Church fiend is doing to my people?!" he demanded, scepter crashing against the ground. "Or was it you telling them to do it in the first place?"
Huh? What was he talking about?
Konrad wanted to say those words too, but gravity won, and he fell to the ground.
Some of his friends hollered at it; others looked confused, while Paula—
'Okay. Sorry to interrupt your fun, but he has some actually disturbing thoughts. The party is over,' she said. No arguments, only a matter of fact. 'You'll be sober in three, two, one—'
Oh boy. Going from happy drunk to dry was jarring, to say the least.
And that was before he even heard what Nimrod was trying to say.
"What happened?" Konrad demanded, his head still spinning and throat hoarse.
"That new bishop," Nimrod grunted. "He's out there with his knights, rounding up my tribes."
"He what?!"
What the hell was wrong with that guy?!
First, he arrived with an army of two thousand. Then he tried to fight Stella, and now—
"Is there a fight?" Bor asked, too, still half-drunk.
"No," Nimrod said, shaking his head. "I knew better than to resist with force. They aren't killing anyone—yet. But they're all over our villages, taking away my people left and right."
"Warriors?" Konrad asked, trying to make sense of things. "Or your shamans?"
"I don't know," his twin grunted. "The reports are all over the place. I came here right away to challenge that Church bastard, but—I couldn't actually find him."
'He's not in Halaima,' Paula noted. 'And neither are your wives.'
Well, wasn't that great?
Their guys' night turned into yet another emergency with lots of drunks around.