The company of knights and soldiers kept trying to woo Anoriel, and she laughed at their jokes, but was still looking for one that would be special. The ones that surrounded her were already known to her, but she was looking for a man that would be at least half as mighty as her brother. It didn't have to be a demon-slayer and master swordsman... But she wasn't one to go for the average.
In the meantime, Athran found one of his old companions. They begun discussing the events of past years, when the man mentioned wine. Athran's lips twisted into a grin. "Drinking contest?" he chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Aye! Bring the wine!" the knight replied.
"You stand no chance against the Black Sword."
"I'd doubt that..." The man grabbed the jug in front of him, filled with wine to the brim. Athran's hand clenched around one, too. A few others were watching them, smirking, and making bets.
"Three, two, one, and drink!" someone counted.
Athran immediately turned the liquid, filling the goblet, into himself, letting the thick substance of red wine flow into his mouth and down his throat. It was cool, and yet he soon felt its warmth spreading through his body. He wasn't the first to put his jug down, but stood steadier on his feet, and while his companion was already stumbling, and struggled with the third jug, his hands were steady even around the fourth.
"Still going, Deathstorm?" the man questioned him, wine flowing down his beard. Athran nodded, and picked up the fifth jug. The glass thudded as the other soldier put his goblet down. His eyes crossed and he stumbled back, falling into the group of knights behind him. Everybody laughed, and only then Athran put his own jug down. He stared into the distance, feeling like everything is turning around him, spinning wildly, but still stood without wincing. "We have a winner!" someone roared.
Anoriel heard the shouting and cheering, and immediately turned, sensing that her brother is more than likely to be involved in whatever is happening. Her slender figure slipped through the crowd, to find Athran amid a group of cheering knights, obviously already drunk. She smacked her head, and disappeared again.
It wasn't anything to worry about. He'd get into this state at almost every celebration she pulled him to - all she could hope for was that he wouldn't try to set his harp on fire.