“You know if I didn’t know any better, I would say you were a Captain already.” Garrett winked, but bowed his head and began making a path through the crowd.
            One fist came towards Devlin. He caught it and twisted the arm of his attacker. The man span round as Devlin held the man's arm behind his back. He used the man to block the next two punches then pushed him at them. Devlin moved around the attackers, edging towards the door as he blocked a few more swipes with his own arms. That was when he saw the flash of a bottle come soaring over his head.
            Devlin ducked to avoid it. It smashed and spat its contents all over several of his attackers, shards of glass slashing at skin. Those that were not hurt jumped him. They pummelled him with weak hits. Devlin fought to get free. In anger he lashed out at one man, smacking him in the back of the leg, knocking him firmly to the door. He used that to push through more of them. He was at the door when much of the mob surged forwards.
            He slammed the door shut and ran towards Weston. He could probably take them all, but he didn’t want to cause the Innkeeper any more trouble, and he had to make sure Weston was alright.
            Garrett and Weston were around the corner of a back alleyway. Garrett held Weston’s head and looked him in the eye.
            “How is he?” Devlin said.
            “Well, it is hard to tell since he is drunk and cannot focus, but I would say that he isn’t too bad. He will have some nasty bruises though.”  Devlin looked, his eyes were already a deep purple colour and his lip was cut. “At least he did not get hit by a bottle.” Garrett eyed Devlin.
            “You heard that?”
            “Yes, did it get you?” Garrett seemed concerned. Devlin waved him away as he tried to check Devlin.
            “No, thankfully.” Devlin muttered. “You ought to go Garrett, I’ll take him back to his tent—“
            “—we must speak again soon, Devlin.” He seemed quite insistent.
            “And we will, just not tonight.” Devlin was tired, he felt raw from bringing up Damyen and he was sore from the punches.
            “I am quite serious Devlin, there are things you need to know. I will find you after the Tournaments opening.” He promised. Devlin bowed and took his cousin by the shoulder, helping him move.
            It was slow going to the tent, what with his writhing and his weight. He had gained a lot more muscle from when Devlin had last met him; this made it difficult to carry him when he got this drunk. Eventually however, they left the city and found his tent. Once inside, Devlin dumped him onto a chair.
            Lady Enton immediately went to his side.
            “Are you alright?” She said.
            “Yer should of seen it. I knocked out... Dev how many?” Devlin had to hold back his laughter.

The End

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