The Gamer Chapter 1643 – Bachelor’s Night 2 – Not all that foams is beer (Patreon)

“Our whiskey is most tasty when poured in this specific manner,” the bartender assured and tipped the bottle. The liquid that came out was an atypical brown colour of the advertised kind of liquor. As it fell, an air spirit flew in little vortexes around the stream, directing its half metre fall into the glass. John was almost too focused on the elemental to look at the liquid. She really reminded him of Sylph in her earlier Tiers, before she got permanently locked into being bigger than his hand.

Attention shifted back to the liquid. As it fell, it turned into the golden colour John was used to from whiskey. Rather than splash, it formed a thick, greyish black foam on top. It was a peculiar sight all around.

“Leave the bottle,” Maximillian instructed, once each of them had their glass. The bartender did as asked and left them alone at the table. Save for a couple at the bar itself, they were alone. It was early in the night on a Monday, visitors were likely going to stay low.

“Why are we starting with whiskey?” John wondered and grabbed his glass.

“Why aren’t we starting with cigars?” Magnus grumbled and did the same.

Answers were swiftly provided. “As the adage goes: ‘Whiskey before beer, you’re in the clear.’”

“Pretty sure it’s ‘liquor before beer…’” John mumbled, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be a genuine interruption.

“Secondly, because the moment we start smoking cigars, we’ll be sitting there until we finish – which will probably take hours.”

“Cigars can be put out and continued later.” Magnus patted a part of his chest. No doubt, an inner pocket where he held the various parts of his cigar kit. John had seen the box before. It was finely crafted even by his standards.

“And I also do not feel like sticking to smoker’s establishments,” Maximillian added to his answer. “Ventilation in this city is good, for the most part, but smoke is a different matter.”

Magnus hummed disapprovingly, but let the matter slide. Glasses were raised. “To the groom,” John stated.

“To my friends,” Maximillian toasted back.

They sipped on their whiskey. It had a strong, malty taste. John was positively surprised by the taste. Foaming whiskey had made him expect something horrid. “This is pretty great,” he complimented.

“Could be smokier,” Magnus gave his opinion. He raised the glass to his nose again and took a deep whiff. Then he took another sip and swirled that around in his mouth. “It is very good.”

“Too malty to be my preferred whiskey,” Maximillian hummed, “but, indeed, quite enjoyable.”

“You hear that, Belex, they like your whiskey.”

“They better, or I’d throw them out, king or not.” The bartender’s joke made the woman of the couple by the bar do a double take. “Don’t get all starstruck.”

“The Gamer and the gravity king!” the woman exclaimed.

Magnus snorted with mild amusement. The stoic man leaned back in his chair and observed the situation. The smile playing around the corners of his lips was all the pointer needed as to whether he minded the lack of recognition or not.

“In the flesh,” Maximillian said and raised his glass in a distant toast. “If you wish something signed, come over now. I do not think my handwriting will be any good later.”

The pair took the offer, hurriedly getting a piece of paper from the bartender and then getting both Maximillian’s and John’s signature on it. The Gamer just played along because he was being roped in. Thankfully, the pair had the presence of mind to retreat afterwards, not prying into the king’s business too much.

“You really are famous,” John said, acting as if that was a surprise.

“My wedding is literally the news of the week, buddy.”

“That’s only because I’m not doing anything,” John joked. For once, there was no truth to that. Entertaining as his exploits were to most, the wedding of the head of one of the Abyss’ longest lasting families of power and influence was closer to most people. Most of what the Gamer got up to was more interesting to the geopolitically inclined. “Right, if we let any national secrets slip, please do not tell anyone,” John added towards the people at the bar.

“We won’t,” the man of the pair answered in a serious tone.

John wouldn’t have had them killed if they did end up causing a leak for anything they divulged in a drunken stumble, but they didn’t know that. As Abyssals, their sensibility was put towards always taking lethal force as an option on the table. The Gamer’s stint into the underbelly of Prague had proven that dangers were alive and well even in the most civilized centres of Europe.

“Are we going to be spilling state secrets?” Magnus asked.

The question alone clued John in that he had something new to brag about. An exciting development, most likely, since Fusion’s research on the Mobile Barrier front was top notch. Between Magnus’ diligence and Lee’s incredible talent, heightened to absurdity by Lover’s Will, they had all the foundations to become and stay the world leaders in that field.

Which was fortunate because every world power needed something they did better than everyone else to stay relevant.

“Let’s keep that for one of the bars that has a bit more privacy,” Maximillian suggested and took another sip of the malty liquor. “And for when we are drunk enough to forget how awful an idea that is. Less touchy subject – poker?”

“If you want to.” John reached into his inventory and pulled out the stack of cards.

The trio moved around the bench that wrapped around the four-person table. Cards were soon dealt and the mind games began. John openly showed a sour expression. He had a poor hand. ‘No way to victory besides making them overthink it.’

“What are you planning to do in the palace anyway?” Maximillian asked.

“Hold my wedding there.” Magnus shuffled his cards. “And I do hold.”

“…I fold,” Maximillian stated, pushing his hand away.

“You planning on proposing soon?” John shuffled his hand back and forth. “…I raise.” He threw a token in the middle of the table. Lowercase token, in this case, since betting money was pretty dull in their financial situation.

After a few seconds, Magnus folded as well, leaving both him and Maximillian groaning when it turned out that John had, by far, the worst hand out of all of them. The Gamer gathered the meagre pot of that round and then dealt the next round.

“I’m giving it a year,” the Fateweaver answered.

“Trouble in paradise or just cautionary measures?” Maximillian tilted his head one way, then the other, betraying no specific emotion towards his hand. The long pause made the king ask, in a more empathetic tone, “Magnus?”

The Fateweaver scratched his chin. “Both.”

“You want to talk about it?” the Gamer wondered.

“…I fold,” Magnus began with that and, out of decency, John and Maximillian did the same. The oldest man at the table gathered the cards up and then, to keep his hands busy, started to sort the deck by colour. “I’ve been working a lot. Nina doesn’t like that. She said some things that made me upset. That was two weeks ago, but it still bothers me.”

“What did she say?” John wondered.

Magnus piled up the four stacks of cards. “That she contemplated going out with a past suitor.”

Maximillian groaned wholeheartedly, while John could only empathize in spirit. That was one of the cards women could pull to really dig into their partners – or so he had heard. None of his haremettes had ever used it on him. Not for a lack of opportunities. For better and for worse, the female side of the species always had more relationship chances and all of the Gamer’s girls had been offered the chance, in the past, to not choose him. The one that had chosen to go away had returned later. He was very fortunate on that front.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Maximillian said.

“Nothing came of it,” Magnus made clear. “We had a fight, she said it knowing the suggestion would hurt me and it did. It reminded me of why I’ve spent most of my life single.” The Fateweaver tapped the now sorted deck on the table, until the stack was neatly aligned with itself. “She did apologize for it. I promised to take more time off work. It’s still not easy to let go of that.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Maximillian said. “He doesn’t though.”

The finger was pointed at John, who took being the butt of the joke with all of the played offense it warranted. “Yes, I’m 100% unable to sympathize with things that never happened to me. You got me.”

Magnus chuckled at the levity. “I do still love her. I think I would like to marry her one day. Just… curbed the enthusiasm.”

“Doesn’t feel good to be told you’re replaceable,” John said. “What’s your experience with it, anyway?”

Maximillian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Was one of my acting career flings that said it to me, one that I fancied a lot at the time,” he confessed. “I did not react appropriately.”

“How does one react appropriately to that?”

“Certainly not by getting drunk and shouting equally mean things back,” Maximillian stated drily. For a few seconds, he just stared at the glass between his hands. “Not the proudest time of my life.” Then, he downed the rest of the whisky and poured himself the next glass.

“How goes the healthier drinking?” John asked.

“Against current appearances, quite well,” Maximillian stated and sipped carefully on the brown liquid. “…It’s better without the special pouring.”

John raised an eyebrow, downed his own glass, then filled up his own glass. He took a sip and shook his head. The malty taste was diminished and its place in the alcohol was twice as apparent. Shuddering, the Gamer mumbled, “You’re insane. Magnus, your opinion?”

“I’m measuring myself.” Rather than reach for the bottle to refill his own, empty glass, the stoic man drank from the glass of water he had ordered along the whisky. “Someone has to carry you two back up to the palace.” The fully ordered deck was shuffled and cards put back on the table.

“Irielz keeping an eye on you then?” John asked.

“That woman will be the life of me.” Maximillian chortled to himself. “Women. The cause of all of life’s problems and all the things worth living for.”

“Amen to that,” John uttered and the two men held their drink for just long enough that Magnus could refill his glass. Once they had toasted and sipped, the oldest man at the table was subject to the inquisitive gazes of the other two.

“It’s better with the foam.”

“You’re both mental,” Maximillian disagreed. “Such disrespect for the king.”

“You’re disrespecting the owner by telling him his produce is better outside his preferred way of serving it.” John gave the bartender an acknowledging nod. Far from offended, the man was polishing glasses, only listening with one ear. He wouldn’t have survived in the alcohol business if he took everyone’s opinion as a personal insult.

“Am I not allowed to have taste buds?”

“No,” John answered, as if speaking to a child. “What are you, an individual? Get out of here with that idiocy. While you’re out there, do check in with the nearest station to see if you can get your factory setting reset.”

“You really know how to stretch out a joke and murder it.”

“At least I know something,” John shot back.

“At least I can organize a wedding in a sensible timeframe.”

John groaned, he got him there. He and Rave were dragging their feet something fierce. They had been redrafting the invitation list several times and the place of venue was as much in debate as the question of who should hold the ceremony.

“That bad?” Maximillian asked.

“Bad is the wrong word for it.” The Gamer rolled his neck and gestured that he was holding. The round came to a swift conclusion a moment later, Magnus being the winner. “Complicated is more like it. It’s not like Jane or I are fighting over what we should do, we just don’t know how we should do anything.”

“You two are something,” Maximillian stated.

“A power couple?” John suggested.

“I was thinking more like ‘so co-dependent that you’re probably going to spontaneously combust if either of you dies’.”

“That’s ridiculous.” John took a sip of his liquor for comedic timing. “First, whoever survives would murder whatever killed the other – then we would spontaneously combust.”

That got a laugh out of the two other men. For a few rounds, they just played the game, bluffing and being honest as they thought it would get them ahead. Maximillian was the winner of the game overall, making out with the most tokens by the time they got sick of poker.

The bottle was gradually getting emptied. As three young men that had eaten well beforehand and did not drink too fast, a medium-sized bottle of whisky between the three of them had moved them towards tipsy.

“What do you think of kiwis?”

The question was random, John had to admit, but not random enough for the reaction it got from Maximillian. The king seemed to be in a laughing mood today, exploding with jovial sounds. It reached the point where he dramatically fell off the bench, then clawed his way back up. Magnus giggled into his water.

“Why would you ask that?” Maximillian wanted to know.

“Been a point of contention among my girls.”

“The fruit?”

“The bird.”

Maximillian laughed some more, although John was certain that he could have said anything and the man would have giggled. “What is possibly contentious about a brown feather ball?”

“Are they cute or are they just interesting?”

The two men contemplated the question for a bit. “I’m still stuck on you bringing this up in the first place.”

“Nia and Eliana had a huge ‘fight’ over it.”

“I feel like most of the time, when there’s a fight in your harem, it’s those two.”

“It’s because I don’t mention all of the ones Siena starts.” John waved off. Genuine fights in his harem were rare and typically solved by either him or Rave before they could become anything more than disagreements. Were there instances where one woman did not speak to another for one or two days out of pettiness? Yes. Three days? No.

Difficult to stay mad at someone while sharing a household like they did.

“To be fair to Nia, it’s mostly Eliana.”

“Is she still jealous that Nia is tall, blonde and thin?”

“And clean,” John added to that list.

“I swear to Gaia, women have no idea how attractive they are.”

“Do we want to go back to chatting about women all night or do you want to answer the kiwi question?”

Maximillian contemplated his answer. It was difficult not to talk about women, interesting as they were. In the interim, Magnus spoke up, “Kiwis are cute.”

“I concur,” the king agreed. “It’s like taking an ostrich and squishing it into a brown ball.”

John hummed. “I think they’re just interesting.”

“Yeah, but your sense of what is cute is warped.”

“What does he think is cute?”

“Crocodiles, monitor lizards, your sister….”

“”Max.””

The warning from both men only made the king laugh again.