I groaned as I sat up from the dirty floor of the hall. My fellow mercenaries were spread out around me, snoring contentedly. Grimacing, I put my hands on my temples, trying to massage out the massive hangover I felt coming. This was what I got for playing Mark's drinking games; a night of fun and victory, due to my elven blood, and a raging headache the next day. I never felt nausea, though.
"Hey, Lancshe..." Mark said sleepily next to me, slurring the words. "What time ish it?
"Before dawn," I told him. "Are you seriously still drunk?"
He chuckled quietly. "Yesh, I am...thish shtuff lashts a long time, huh?" He grinned happily.
"Come on, then...time for the adventurer's best friend."
I dragged him up, staggering under his weight. He didn't help, instead just grinning and singing quietly.
Finally, after ten minute's worth of struggle, I got him over to the kitchens, where the chefs were already hard at work. "Hey!" I called to one of them, gesturing to Mark.
The chef grinned knowingly. "One best friend, coming up, Lance."
"Thanks, Kane." I sat on a nearby stool after lowering Mark to a sitting position on the floor. He kept humming happily to himself, somehow still under the effects of the alcohol that I had already slept off.
"Here you go," Kane said, handing me a wooden mug full of a clear liquid. "Might wanna hurry and have him drink it; doesn't look like he's gonna last much longer."
Mark was turning a rather strange shade of green; sighing, I gave him the mug, and he drank it all down in one go. Instantly, his eyes cleared, and his hands flew to his head. "Ugh, hangover," he muttered.
"Welcome to my world," I told him, laughing.
The door opened, and one of our messengers stepped into the kitchen. He couldn't have been older than thirteen. "Lance?" he asked.
"That's me. What's up?"
"There's a job offer, specifically for you."
I stood slowly, stretching my limbs. "All right. Tell them I'll be right there."