So far, it seemed to be a good night at the Hatchet Tavern. Everyone’s spirits were high at the moment. Ale flowed from numerous barrels and into mugs that could have used a good spit shine, not as if the patrons actually cared. Their lips were curved into goofy smiles from all the beer that they were drinking. Just by the way they were all dancing; you could easily assume that at least half of them were drunk. However, you couldn’t fully blame them. Everyone wanted to celebrate as news had just come around that the Queen's two daughters had just come of age for marriage. Most of the people were having a jolly, good time. But as everyone knows, some people just can’t have a jolly, good time.
There were three people that weren’t as happy or as good-natured as everyone else. They were on a mission to make as much money as possible. The first person was the tavern owner Chef Hatchet. No one knew his real name and no one ever asked. Who can blame them? He is a very intimidating person. It’s like a scowl was permanently etched onto his face. He wasn’t having a good time because while serving drinks he had to make sure no drunken brawls occurred at any point. There’s nothing worse than a fight to clear out a room full of paying customers. He kept one eye on the dance floor. Fights would occur there just because guys would fight over who should be gallivanting with some random girl. Chef quickly scanned the crowd for a few seconds before getting back to filling more glasses for bar maids to pass around. He failed to notice a certain dancer on the floor.
The dancer’s name: Trent Alderson. He was swaying sensuously with nearly every girl in the bar. If you looked at him, it would seem that his hands were dangerously close to the females’ backsides. If you looked even closer, you would notice that he was slipping money away from their low hanging purses and even some well hidden pockets. It’s a bit difficult to steal money from women without them thinking that you have ulterior motives. Well, of course he did have an ulterior motive, but not the kind they would be thinking of. Besides, it was his turn to steal from the females in the bar. Eh, he thinks it's better this way. Duncan is more suitable for roughing it with the men in taverns anyways. Trent twirled a girl around before looking across the front of the bar. He zeroed in on his accomplice who was now just finishing a game of blackjack with another guy who obviously didn’t understand the concept of the game.
Seated at a few tables near the entrance were some men gambling their money away. Various games were being played such as arm wrestling, blackjack, and quite currently stabscotch. Nearly every guy at the table was groaning in agony. They had all been losing their money to a teenage hoodlum. That hoodlum’s name? Duncan Chevalier. At the moment, Duncan was winning at every game he played. Especially at stabscotch. He could give his thanks to his pocket knife nick-named Bon Couteau. It could have also been the ten mugs of ale that his counterparts had drank, but it was mostly his knife. It was as if the blade knew not to slice a single skin cell from its owner’s hand.
As much as he was enjoying himself, Duncan knew that he would have to wrap up his game. One of the guys he was playing against was getting all red in the face from losing all his money. His friends tried to tell him that there was no possible way that he could beat Duncan, but obviously the guy didn’t understand the term ‘losing’. The man seemed angry enough to just about strangle him. What they didn’t need was a confrontation. If he and Trent got caught, they would surely be sent to jail. Just about every copper in the country knew of his and Trent’s deeds. He banged at the table he was situated at, yelling for more rounds of beer for him and his "friends". Trent acknowledged him with a shout for more music to play. The other patrons agreed wholeheatedly, and the band began to play with more fervor. Unbeknownst to the other people in the bar, Duncan and Trent were about to go through one of their marvelous escapes.
As soon as a bar maid came with more drinks, Duncan rapped his fingers on the table to start his role in the plan.“Knocking on wood? Seems as if this young lad is running down on his luck.” the loser teased. Duncan swallowed down the urge to roll his eyes. He began thrumming his fingers on the table while waiting for Trent to make this deadbeat’s cronies leave the table. “How about I make a deal with you old-timer?” Duncan heard a woman screech in anger before one of the guys at the table walked off. Trent always did have the type of magnetism to attract girls that were already taken. Duncan inwardly smirked before continuing. “Because I feel sorry for you, I’m willing to play one last round of stabscotch.” The man became all the more annoyed, but Duncan could see at least a glimmer of intrigue. “If you win, I’ll let you take everything I’ve won.” Duncan gave his best fake genuine smile. "I'll even let you use my lucky knife." he proposed. The idiot smiled and accepted the knife.
There were three people that weren’t as happy or as good-natured as everyone else. They were on a mission to make as much money as possible. The first person was the tavern owner Chef Hatchet. No one knew his real name and no one ever asked. Who can blame them? He is a very intimidating person. It’s like a scowl was permanently etched onto his face. He wasn’t having a good time because while serving drinks he had to make sure no drunken brawls occurred at any point. There’s nothing worse than a fight to clear out a room full of paying customers. He kept one eye on the dance floor. Fights would occur there just because guys would fight over who should be gallivanting with some random girl. Chef quickly scanned the crowd for a few seconds before getting back to filling more glasses for bar maids to pass around. He failed to notice a certain dancer on the floor.
The dancer’s name: Trent Alderson. He was swaying sensuously with nearly every girl in the bar. If you looked at him, it would seem that his hands were dangerously close to the females’ backsides. If you looked even closer, you would notice that he was slipping money away from their low hanging purses and even some well hidden pockets. It’s a bit difficult to steal money from women without them thinking that you have ulterior motives. Well, of course he did have an ulterior motive, but not the kind they would be thinking of. Besides, it was his turn to steal from the females in the bar. Eh, he thinks it's better this way. Duncan is more suitable for roughing it with the men in taverns anyways. Trent twirled a girl around before looking across the front of the bar. He zeroed in on his accomplice who was now just finishing a game of blackjack with another guy who obviously didn’t understand the concept of the game.
Seated at a few tables near the entrance were some men gambling their money away. Various games were being played such as arm wrestling, blackjack, and quite currently stabscotch. Nearly every guy at the table was groaning in agony. They had all been losing their money to a teenage hoodlum. That hoodlum’s name? Duncan Chevalier. At the moment, Duncan was winning at every game he played. Especially at stabscotch. He could give his thanks to his pocket knife nick-named Bon Couteau. It could have also been the ten mugs of ale that his counterparts had drank, but it was mostly his knife. It was as if the blade knew not to slice a single skin cell from its owner’s hand.
As much as he was enjoying himself, Duncan knew that he would have to wrap up his game. One of the guys he was playing against was getting all red in the face from losing all his money. His friends tried to tell him that there was no possible way that he could beat Duncan, but obviously the guy didn’t understand the term ‘losing’. The man seemed angry enough to just about strangle him. What they didn’t need was a confrontation. If he and Trent got caught, they would surely be sent to jail. Just about every copper in the country knew of his and Trent’s deeds. He banged at the table he was situated at, yelling for more rounds of beer for him and his "friends". Trent acknowledged him with a shout for more music to play. The other patrons agreed wholeheatedly, and the band began to play with more fervor. Unbeknownst to the other people in the bar, Duncan and Trent were about to go through one of their marvelous escapes.
As soon as a bar maid came with more drinks, Duncan rapped his fingers on the table to start his role in the plan.“Knocking on wood? Seems as if this young lad is running down on his luck.” the loser teased. Duncan swallowed down the urge to roll his eyes. He began thrumming his fingers on the table while waiting for Trent to make this deadbeat’s cronies leave the table. “How about I make a deal with you old-timer?” Duncan heard a woman screech in anger before one of the guys at the table walked off. Trent always did have the type of magnetism to attract girls that were already taken. Duncan inwardly smirked before continuing. “Because I feel sorry for you, I’m willing to play one last round of stabscotch.” The man became all the more annoyed, but Duncan could see at least a glimmer of intrigue. “If you win, I’ll let you take everything I’ve won.” Duncan gave his best fake genuine smile. "I'll even let you use my lucky knife." he proposed. The idiot smiled and accepted the knife.
