The brass plate was swirling around on the old, greasy-stained counter, and the waiter standing behind him glanced blankly at the little man, a tall, lanky, pale young man with grey eyes that did not match his age, and he stretched out a hand to deftly put the two sols into the drawer, then turned, bent over, and fiddled behind the counter, which was more than half a man tall.

"Don't mix it with water."

The small man flexed his index and middle fingers and tapped the counter in a reminder—his voice not deliberately lowered when he said this, so that it caught a few glances in an instant. The other guests in the tavern suddenly stopped talking or thinking, or stared at the wine glasses on the table, or continued to take small sips, as if to confirm this possibility.

But no one has said anything about it.

This kind of thing is almost normal in such a cheap tavern. Especially in recent years, due to the war, the grain output has been greatly reduced, and the wheat that was originally worthless has become much more expensive - in the year of the stars, most taverns in the civilian quarters of Karthas have increased the price of a glass of ale from three soles to five soles, and by the end of autumn in the current new moon year, in some places even a cup of ale has been sold for seven copper plates. And all you need here is two soles, even if you mix a little water, that's fine.

But in the eyes of a real drunkard, this is a great sin!

Under the watchful eye of the small man, it was difficult to do something openly, but the young waiter didn't seem to care—a yellow, impurities-tinged liquid poured out of the oak barrel, and when it was nearly two-thirds of the way to the glass, the waiter put the sloping barrel back into its original position, and the column of liquid flowing from the mouth of the barrel quickly tapered, and at last, almost a finger's distance from the rim of the glass.

He handed the ale to the mean guest at the counter, and he didn't say a word the whole time, and when he was done, he returned to his previous lazy state, and sat back in the wooden chair with only three and a half legs in a half-paralyzed position.

"Dumb Todd", the nickname of the young waiter, as the old patrons of the "Traveler's House" usually called, never got angry or annoyed by it - the arrival of a new guest was only an inconspicuous episode, and soon the tavern returned to its usual atmosphere.

"It's been a long time since I've seen Rai."

In the corner of the tavern, where the dim orange oil lamp shone only a faint shadow, a guest in a dogskin hat spoke to another person across the table, playing with the glass in his hand, with a hint of grief in his tone.

"Don't you know? He's so rich that he may have forgotten about us old fellows. ”

The guest on the other side seemed to burst into a dull laugh from his chest, and the upturned Erlang's legs shook a few times in the shadow of the light, and then whispered: "He has caught the line of a big man and is making a good deal." ”

"So, do we have a chance to get involved?"

"I'm afraid...... No way. ”

These were two merchants from Xhosa, the southern province of the kingdom - hiding in a corner and deliberately keeping their voices down, but the strange way of articating words was hard to hide anyway. In this year, there weren't many Northlanders who had traveled to the Northland, except for a few guys who were working hard for Rael. In the territory of the Elantra Kingdom, the merchants of southern Xhosa were quite famous, not only for their vast means of making money, but also for a name similar to that of a joke.

"The Iron Rooster of the South".

The southern province of Xhosa, the southern province of the Elantra kingdom, was famous for its spice trade and jewelry processing, and the local merchants were almost all wealthy, many of whom had more money than a viscount compared to the border nobles of the north and west.

But they were still so frugal that they almost cut the door.

So, tonight, two merchants from Xhosa came to the tavern that offered a special ale.

The sound is getting quieter and quieter, approaching a level that is difficult to hear. However, after the two merchant gentlemen drank a few glasses of ale intermittently, they gradually began to talk more.

At the door of the tavern, the little man standing at the counter did not even move a single step, he raised one arm and rested on the counter, and with the other hand holding the wine glass, he swallowed a sip of yellowish, sour and bitter ale from time to time—it was a terrible taste, he commented secretly. But he didn't complain about it, because he knew that the quality was worth the price.

But it still tastes bad, like this bad day! He smacked his mouth twice, his gaze as if he had stolen a glance around the tavern, and then at the liquid floating in the glass with a layer of fine white foam.

The wind was blowing in the street outside, and there were only a few pedestrians in the cold moonlight, and a few stray wild cats hid in the corners and rooftops, occasionally making a few ** sounds similar to the cry of a baby.

After a moment, there seemed to be a little warmth.

After drinking the glass of ale, which was about 10 ounces, the little man was still unsatisfied, but the shriveled and empty money bag in his arms was constantly reminding him to drink in moderation - a quarter of an hour had passed in front of the counter, and the warmth from his stomach had gradually spread throughout his body, and he burped and walked outside.

Two Southerners.

Just now, the little man noticed the two gentlemen, who had lost his job a week earlier, and the two soles he had paid for this glass of ale were his last possessions. He knew he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer, or he would have to join the thieves or beggars in the city tomorrow.

Is it a crime? Isn't it shameful?

But isn't life also a path when people are cornered - the little man's fingers stop at his waist, and on that worn belt, hangs an iron dagger. He had slit the throats of many people with this dagger, but he was in a great hesitation at the moment.

He walked aimlessly down the street.

The alcohol flowing in his body was blown by the wind, and in an instant he seemed to have a trance, and he saw an extremely tall figure blocking his way, no matter how he turned around, always standing in front of him-

He felt a nameless anger burn in his heart, and he rushed at the figure—an aged maple tree across the street from the "Traveler's House", a huge shade that shaded a large area of nearby buildings. In autumn, it is a sight to behold in the city of Karsas.

It's just that, with a loud bang, the bright red maple leaves like blood flew all over the sky!