When they got back to the herb room, Langgrin and Kase were gone.

"Where’d that guy go?"

"Probably went next door. Come on, let’s go see."

With that, Donkexes led Colin toward the main hall in the sewers.

Even from the narrow, smelly corridors, they could hear faint cheers in the distance. After a few turns, they spotted the orange glow from the hall’s entrance, and the cheering grew more fervent.

They walked to the entrance and looked inside.

A long table in the middle of the hall was laden with all sorts of food and tankards, with two small kegs sitting on top.

The long table was surrounded by a large crowd of Dwarves.

The Dwarves were dressed in all different ways. Some wore blacksmith’s aprons, some had monocles, and others still had ink smudges on their faces. A single glance told him they came from all walks of life.

Strangely, Dorn, the one who had been at the gate earlier, was not here.

Kase, towering over the others, sat in the center of the hall. He held a tankard the size of his head, a dazed look on his face.

He was shouting loudly, "What I hate most about those Elves is that damned arrogant attitude of theirs! They look down their noses at everyone else. But so what? When it’s time to die, they still die!"

As he finished, a chorus of cheers erupted from the surrounding Dwarves.

Langgrin, holding his tankard, jumped onto the table and yelled as if giving some grand speech, "Those pointy-ears are the most undisciplined lot! I once knew an Elf blacksmith, and I have to admit, his craftsmanship was almost as good as a Dwarf’s..."

"Almost as good as a Dwarf’s? Nonsense!" "He’s drunk! Drunk!"

A few Dwarves below shouted.

"I haven’t gotten to the main point yet!" Langgrin chugged some beer and continued shouting, "But guess what he did in the end? The fellow abandoned centuries of his craft, blabbering on about becoming a painter! He just up and left to go splash paint on paper, not leaving a single bit of his craft to his family!"

"How could he do that?" "What foolishness!" "And his son and father had nothing to say about it? By Moradin’s beard!"

Another Dwarf leaped onto the table and bellowed, "If any spawn of mine dared to do something like that, I’d! PUNCH! the shit right out of his backdoor!"

The hall immediately erupted in raucous laughter.

Then the crowd of Dwarves started clamoring about wasting talent and the like.

"This is why you never fight alongside an Elf! When they’re facing an enemy, who knows if they’ll pull out a sword or some other damn thing?" another Dwarf hollered, jumping on the table.

"I even heard about an Elf Wandering Poet who got together with a dragon! How disgusting is that?"

After he said that, the group of Dwarves broke into another rowdy argument.

’So that’s how a Half-Orc gets into a Dwarf drinking party,’ Colin thought. ’Turns out they’re holding an Elf-bashing convention.’

"What do you say? Care for a drink?" Donkexes asked. "We brew this beer ourselves."

"I... suppose so."

Having been transmigrated for so long, Colin had gradually gotten used to drinking beer.

Although the well water in Thousand Masts City was fairly clean, there were no sugary sodas, and the cheap tea was terrible. In the end, that left beer. He was also quite curious what Dwarven beer tasted like.

Donkexes then led Colin over to two Dwarves who were passed out on the table.

The old Dwarf nonchalantly shoved his two compatriots onto the floor as if he were just brushing off a few specks of dust.

"Two beers! A bunch of damned lazy arses!" After yelling his order, Donkexes sat down with Colin.

"Speaking of which, there’s something I needed to talk to you about," Colin said. "My superior recently told me that things are getting restless around Thousand Masts City, so he suggested I take a few days off."

"Who’s your superior?"

"Edwin Helder."

"Ah, that’s not surprising then. The man’s a rather famous Paladin, one of Thousand Masts City’s aces back in the day. I’m surprised he ended up managing you field agents, though. And don’t complain; his decision is definitely a wise one."

Two tankards, each the size of a man’s head, slid across the table and stopped in front of them with a scrape.

Colin picked up his tankard and examined it.

The foam inside was incredibly thick, almost like cream, and it gave off a scent of caramel and roasted malt.

He lifted the tankard and took a small sip.

It had a very rich mouthfeel, like the difference between drinking water and drinking milk compared to other beers. Swishing it around, he could taste a hint of sweetness and a faint, bloody tang. After he swallowed, a slight bitterness lingered.

But the taste changed with the second sip. A distinct aroma of almonds filled his nostrils.

This feeling of a different flavor with every sip made him want to keep drinking without even thinking about it.

After drinking about half the tankard, Colin asked, "Kase and I are planning to head south for a look. Is it manageable down south right now?"

"Nothing much is happening in the south. How long will you be gone?"

"A month at most. I still have things to take care of here in Thousand Masts City," Colin said.

’In a little over a month, when those Adventurers reach the Northern Lands, Edwin will definitely need to discuss methods for settling the Orcs with Kase. It would be more convenient to talk about it face-to-face then.’

"That shouldn’t be a problem. Your and that Half-Orc’s skills should be decent enough down south, as long as you don’t go looking for death in the middle of nowhere," Donkexes said. "How about this? I’ll write up some information on monsters you might encounter in the south, and you can see about bringing something back for me."

Colin nodded.

’If it’s really like Edwin said and the situation is going to get worse, then now is definitely not the time to be resting.’

’Going south to make some money would also be a good chance to see what these so-called "special commissions" are all about.’

Donkexes suddenly smiled. "You know, kid, you really are a lot like a human."

"What do you mean?"

"Arrogance and ambition. Of course, I don’t mean that as an insult. Your arrogance gives you principles about your promises—like with our partnership, even if we didn’t ask, you’d still bring something back. As for ambition, well, I think your diligent training every day is a testament to that."

"I think ’honor’ and ’diligence’ are better words for it." Colin took a large gulp of beer. This time, the flavor was a rich, malty one.

With that, he placed the claim ticket for the hyena pelts on the table.

"These are the hyena pelts you wanted. You can redeem them at the Overseas Commerce Association."

"Ah, sorry, but you’ll have to make the trip for us. None of the commerce associations in Thousand Masts City welcome us. The moment they see us, they’ll refuse to honor the exchange."

Colin took another sip and asked, "Why?"

"A few of the big commerce associations in there want our crafting secrets. One offered a few thousand Gold Coins to buy them to teach his son. Others want our knowledge, and so on and so forth."

Hearing that number, the tipsiness that had just started to creep in was instantly cut in half.

Colin asked, "Don’t you want to make money? Why not agree?"