[center][h3]Another Round[/h3][/center]

[i][b]The Merchants Inn[/b][/i]

The smoky scent of burning wood filled the Merchants Inn, while the din of glasses clinking and patrons conversing provided a cozy atmosphere. Most of the patrons were day workers enjoying the end of their day. This was the kind of tavern that Brynja could enjoy. The only piece missing was the sound of music provided by a self-proclaimed bard. She settled down onto a barstool at the counter, still sporting her armor. Her joints cried in protest at the weight of the steel, but she ignored it, she was accustomed to the pain, and to her it was more of a nuance than a concern. 

The barkeep, an Imperial man with a crown of thinning grey hair, sidled up to her behind the counter, placing an empty mug before her where he then rested his elbows on the wooden countertop. “What can I get for you?”

“Have you any Nord Ale?” She asked, aching for a taste of home. 

“Ah. I do, but I’d recommend our home brew. It’s made right here in the tavern, it’s called the Imperial Crown Ale, a favorite amongst the locals. It has a nice amber color, with a tart sweetness to remind you of the summer to come. Earlier this week it was voted as favorite ale of the year in Cyrodiil by the [i]Black Horse Courier[/i].” He said, a hint of pride in his words.

“I’ll take a mug then.” She nodded, Brynja was open to trying new types of alcohol, though she wasn’t picky by any means.

The barkeep grabbed the empty vessel, and brought her a mug full of Imperial Crown Ale, and moved on to make his rounds to those in need of a drink. It was on her second drink, and dangerously close on running out of coin, that she caught the barkeep’s attention. She uncovered his name to be Cassius after some idle pleasantries.

“Cassius, how’s business been?” She asked, an idea brewing in her head, her hand swirling the amber colored liquid around in the mug. He had been right, the ale was delicious. And it certainly reminded her of summer.

“It’s been slower than I’d like, to be honest. Why do you ask?” He asked, one brow lifting in a quizzical manner.

“Well Cassius… how about you help me out if I help you out?” She kept her face expressionless, she wanted him to take her seriously.

“What are you thinking?” He asked after a pause.

“I could draw in a crowd, if you give me room for two nights, and free drinks.” She watched as his eyes broke from her gaze, drifting to stare at a knot in the counter.

“That’d be a lot of coin I’d be missing out on.” He said after a few uninterrupted seconds of silence, Cassius shifted his gaze to her.

“I guarantee you’ll make more than what I consume.” Brynja pushed the mug away from her, hoping to show that she meant business.

“What do you propose?” He asked with a nod of his head.

“Have an open challenge available to patrons. An arm wrestling-drinking contest. Each participant chugs a drink of their choice, and then engages in an arm wrestling match with me. Charge them for their beverages, keep mine free, but charge them an [i]entrance[/i] fee. There is no prize, save for beating me which comes with boasting rights, of course. I’ll wear my armor as you see me now, even the helm, it’ll be a nice show.” Now Brynja offered a half smile, this wasn’t her first time doing such a thing like this, although in Skyrim, it was rowdy drunks trying to challenge her to an arm wrestling contest while inebriated. This time, she was the one asking. Part of her thoughts flickered to Daro’Vasora’s words on her [i]frivolous[/i] spending. Well, she might only have eight septims left, but Gods be damned, she’d find a way to get herself another drink.

“And in return?” Cassius’ tone indicated that he wanted to know what she was interested in getting out of an offer like that.

“In return, you give me two days worth of room and board, and free beverages if I ask. Trust me, I’ve done it several times in Skyrim. Even killed a man in a drinking contest. Though to be fair, he died in his sleep later that night, not at the table.” The half-smile had disappeared from her lips. There were other rumors she had heard about herself from drunken men and women in the taverns of Skyrim. Several apparently thought she slept with bears, for whatever reason. 

“By the Eight.” Cassius whistled at her tale, “Well I tell you what. I’ll take a gamble on it. I could really use the boost in business here.” He turned his back to her, fumbling in a lock box before procuring a cast iron key. “Its the room on the first floor, end of the hall, last door on the right.”

“Thank you. If you put the word out to those in here, I’ll be ready in a few moments.” Brynja said, a bit relieved the barkeep decided to take her up on the offer. She had free room and board for the next two days, along with free alcohol. What more could she want? First thing on her list, a hot bath. 

[i]One hour later…[/i]

After soaking in the wooden basin in her room, Brynja replaced her full suit of steel armor, and made her way back out to the tavern. She could see heads turn as she emerged from the darkened hallway, Cassius had done a good job on getting the word out about the contest. A table in the center of the room had been cleared, two mugs, a pitcher of ale, and an expecting participant waited for her. As promised, she even wore her helm. 

Cassius spotted her, and came around the bar to approach her, “Look at you. You look like one of the first Nords to land with Ysgramor. I’ve put word out that they would be arm wrestling a Daughter of Skyrim, a warrior that goes by the name of Brynja the Giant. Now, you have your first contestant. He’s about two drinks deep. But don’t go killing anyone tonight.” He said in a hushed voice. She could see he was excited to see how this would play out, the only thing he was really losing money on would be the alcohol she consumed, and the pay for a room. 

“Good. Good. How much are you charging for the entrance fee?” She asked, Brynja didn’t want him to lose out on earning coin after all.

“20 septims to take on the mighty Brynja the Giant. There’s even a sign outside. This is the busiest I’ve seen this place in about a month! Go on now.” He gave her a gentle push on the arm to get her going. Not that she needed much persuasion.

Brynja moved with a heavy, lumbering gait, the sound of her footsteps drew the attention of even more people. She wanted to instill a bit of fear in her first contestant, and those that thought they could defeat her. The man seated at the table was a Breton, his face red from the alcohol. He was a small man, somewhat older, perhaps in his late thirties to early forties. He was lean, with scraggly brown hair. She smiled. This would be fun.

She settled down into the chair across from him, and uttered not a word. His nose shriveled up in distaste at the sight of her, to those taking interest, Brynja looked like a wall of steel. Immovable. She proceeded to fill her mug with ale from the pitcher. Then, she downed the drink in one go. 

“You don’t look so scary like Cassius made you out to be, Nord. Here I was expecting an actual giant from the land of Skyrim.”

She would rely on fear in this contest, what could be more intimidating than facing off against a woman of her size, silent, and dressed in full steel, unable to discern her expression. True, a large portion of her face was revealed, but it was her eyebrows that often gave away her true feelings, and with those covered by the steel helm, she had a damn good chance of instilling fear in her opponents. She said nothing, only laying her arm out across the table, hand extended upright, ready to begin.

“Ha, the silent type eh?” He gave a short laugh before joining hands, their forearms crossed. “No matter. I’ll make you regret going against me.”

[i]‘Mighty words for a man so small.’[/i], she mused. With a solemn nod, the fight commenced.

She let the Breton to engage first, why waste strength when she could use it when needed? She almost laughed as the man put his weight into his arm, trying to force her hand down. That was one of the benefits after serving Rorik, countless years spent wearing armor and fulfilling quests from the Jarl had toughened her body. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she struggled not to laugh. The man grunted as he strained in desperation against her, his arm looked pitifully small in her hand. There was no sense in robbing a man of his dignity. She pushed his arm down against the table, as if she were slicing butter. The man scowled as she released his arm, a look of humility as he realized he had overestimated himself.

“A fair game.” Brynja said, she gestured to the barmaid to fill the pitcher, as the Breton left to nurse his injured pride, another contestant took a seat in the empty chair across from her.