>>6294734You did have that strange strawberry thing that Thomas gave you. Cuthbert had warned you that it was likely poison though. Reaching into your satchel, you grab the bottle. Surprisingly, it was still cold to the touch, despite the fact that you’d left it alone for a few days. Wasn’t this supposed to be yogurt? Was it even edible at this point? Well, whatever. Not like you were the one drinking it. You hand the bottle over to Butch.
>“Fair warning, I’ve had that for a few days. It’s very likely that-”Hungrily, Butch unseals the bottle and greedily consumes its contents. Strands of pink fall from the bottle’s mouth into his beard, mixing with a few bits of gore that had been there from his earlier fighting. He shakes the bottle, making sure he’s drained every last drip of yogurt, before belching rather abruptly.
“My, what a voracious appetite.” Mystletainn comments, eyes wide as he peered not just at Butch, but at the mysterious Heroes Relic that was at his side. “I look forward to crossing blades with this one soon.”
Butch wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He nods his head towards Mystletainn before turning towards you. “What’s the matter with this kid? Why’s he talking like that?”
>“Don’t mind him. He’s a bit touched in the head. Best to avoid him.”“Ahh, I see.” Butch says sagely. “I knew a kid like that growing up. Got too close to a pegasus and it kicked him in the head. Always talked kinda funny after that.” He looks over towards Mystletainn to address him directly. “Hey! It’s impressive ya made it this far with your condition, but don’t think I’ll go easy on ya just cause you’re a bit strange. Just so ya know, I’m not afraid to hit a kid.”
Mystletainn scowls at Butch, before turning away to face the front of the classroom, evidently done with the two of you.
“Hey, thanks for the meal.” Butch claps you on the back. The blow threatens to send you out of your desk. That must have been the ‘strength tonic’ working its way into his blood. Surprisingly, the man does not keel over. You expected that thing to be poisoned. Or at least soured. Had it really been on the up? Or is this man’s stomach just a bottomless pit?
>“No problem.”“You’re alright, guy.” Butch tells you. “You don’t seem like one of these other stuck-up nobles. What’s your name?”
>“Tristain d’Rusalka.”“Butch. Just Butch.” He offers you a handshake, which you accept. Seeing as how you’d managed to win the man’s trust, you figured now would be a good time to find out what his deal was.
>“Good to meet you, Butch. Say, that sword of yours, it’s a Hero’s Relic, isn’t it? I thought I knew them all, but I can’t seem to place what that one is, or what Crest it belongs to.”“Oh, this thing?” Butch gestures towards his blade. “Found it in the woods. A talking Demonic Beast had it. Said it was called ‘Blutgang.’”
