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Art by Xxxx52, comm by me, support him on Patreon & Twitter:
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Lord Caelen Highborn was the Crown Prince of Crownshire. At 25, he was fit, handsome, and always kept his dapper attire and ginger locks in tip top form. He was a gentleman and a scholar to the visiting royalty from across the land.

However, in the taverns he frequented, he was quite the opposite. An outright racist with ghastly ideas about how they should treat the "inferior" races of Orcs, Cat People, Sun Demons, Dark Elves, and particularly Goblins.

"Atrocious little imps." he slurred one evening in his posh intonation, "I don't think I've ever met a goblin even halways presentable, let alone pretty. Only thing they're good for is serving drink and breeding more of their disgusting race."

The patrons didn't pay him any mind, knowing speaking out against the soon to be king would lead to a night in the castle dungeon. Even the several goblins in the Inn kept their heads down, one of them, a young bard of only 20, crying softly into her lute.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." said a boisterous and oily voice from the corner.

Prince Caelen turned to find a traveler getting up. He had a long beard confined to his chin and a feathered hat resting upon his long, black hair. His clothes were incredibly ragged, looking more like a frock worn by a begger.

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that, pilgrim?" asked the Prince in a threatening tone to the vagrant.

"That they're good for more than two things." replied the traveler, "Tell me, milord, have you ever had the pleasure of tasting Goblin Ale?"

"I should say not!" said the prince, haughtily, "I would never imbibe the drink of that filth."

"Trust me when I say that it's well worth a taste." said the wanderer coyly, "I'll make you a deal, you taste it and not like it, you can take my head. But if you taste it and do like it, you'll order my whole stock full. Two whole barrels.

"Ha! I'll have to wake the headsman!" said Caelen braggadociously.

The traveler brought up a mug, produced from seemingly nowhere.

Caelen took the mug and sniffed at it suspiciously.

With a pregnant pause, the noble sipped the beverage and swished it in his mouth. It was strong and heady, yet sweet and effervescent. It was the best drink he'd ever had.

Without even a thought for his surrounding, he downed the rest of the mug.

"Gorblimey!" he said, before composing himself, "I mean, my word, that was actually quite good. I shall gladly accept your stock, good merchant, and reward you handsomely."

"Bless ya, milord." said the Traveler, "I hope it's everything you ever wanted."

Next: fav.me/ddhs8mo

Description
Art by Xxxx52, comm by me, support him on Patreon & Twitter:
twitter.com/xxxx52official?s=0…
www.patreon.com/xxxx52

Lord Caelen Highborn was the Crown Prince of Crownshire. At 25, he was fit, handsome, and always kept his dapper attire and ginger locks in tip top form. He was a gentleman and a scholar to the visiting royalty from across the land.

However, in the taverns he frequented, he was quite the opposite. An outright racist with ghastly ideas about how they should treat the "inferior" races of Orcs, Cat People, Sun Demons, Dark Elves, and particularly Goblins.

"Atrocious little imps." he slurred one evening in his posh intonation, "I don't think I've ever met a goblin even halways presentable, let alone pretty. Only thing they're good for is serving drink and breeding more of their disgusting race."

The patrons didn't pay him any mind, knowing speaking out against the soon to be king would lead to a night in the castle dungeon. Even the several goblins in the Inn kept their heads down, one of them, a young bard of only 20, crying softly into her lute.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." said a boisterous and oily voice from the corner.

Prince Caelen turned to find a traveler getting up. He had a long beard confined to his chin and a feathered hat resting upon his long, black hair. His clothes were incredibly ragged, looking more like a frock worn by a begger.

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that, pilgrim?" asked the Prince in a threatening tone to the vagrant.

"That they're good for more than two things." replied the traveler, "Tell me, milord, have you ever had the pleasure of tasting Goblin Ale?"

"I should say not!" said the prince, haughtily, "I would never imbibe the drink of that filth."

"Trust me when I say that it's well worth a taste." said the wanderer coyly, "I'll make you a deal, you taste it and not like it, you can take my head. But if you taste it and do like it, you'll order my whole stock full. Two whole barrels.

"Ha! I'll have to wake the headsman!" said Caelen braggadociously.

The traveler brought up a mug, produced from seemingly nowhere.

Caelen took the mug and sniffed at it suspiciously.

With a pregnant pause, the noble sipped the beverage and swished it in his mouth. It was strong and heady, yet sweet and effervescent. It was the best drink he'd ever had.

Without even a thought for his surrounding, he downed the rest of the mug.

"Gorblimey!" he said, before composing himself, "I mean, my word, that was actually quite good. I shall gladly accept your stock, good merchant, and reward you handsomely."

"Bless ya, milord." said the Traveler, "I hope it's everything you ever wanted."

Next: fav.me/ddhs8mo