"Pig intestines" walked home alone, with a tinkling copper coin in his pocket, and he reminisced about the glass of ale that the generous master had given him—he was not like other porters, who rushed to the barrel of the tavern or the chest of the ** as soon as he got paid, he had a wife, a daughter, and his wife was still a few months pregnant (they could not figure out how long), and for the three of them he stubbornly resisted all temptations from the outside world—how many times did he pass by the tavern door with his saliva in his mouth? Before he had a wife, he was a regular there, he drank the cool ale, the blood red wine favored by the crew, and even the expensive mead that he used to reward himself, and he knew that the fried pork intestines in the tavern were the best—he loved that one the most, and he loved it since he was a child, so that people forgot his name and called him "pig intestines" instead, which he also thought was better than his original name.

Fatty, oily and shiny, a bite full of the fishy smell in the mouth, very fragrant. Although it was only fried in black oil from a cheap whale, it was worth a basket of coarse bread on such a plate, and he had not enjoyed it again since the birth of his little daughter, a cute little mouth, to eat and drink.

"Pig intestines" The wife had cooked wheat porridge, coarse bread, and salted fish and shrimp early in the morning, and then put on a long skirt to prevent it from being lit and blackened by the stove, and wrapped it around the black shabby shawl, and combed her hair with her fingers dipped in water, and when she was young, she could be said to be beautiful, but unfortunately, her previous husband was eviscerated by goblins because he was drunk, and her son kept having diarrhea because he drank unclean water, and then he died of thirst, and by that time she was in her thirties, with loose teeth, loose skin, no property, and not very good health, no one wants to marry such a wife - it is a surprise that the "pig intestine" who is a few years younger than her is willing to marry her.

Many people say that "pig intestines" is a fool, he can't count more than twelve, but it doesn't matter, no matter how capable a porter is, he can't earn more than one round of copper coins a day, he can't use more than twelve numbers. And she thinks that "pig intestines" are stupid and has never been better, he doesn't like **, after living with her, he doesn't drink much anymore, and the best thing is that he never beats his wife, maybe it's because he is so stupid that he can't understand what beating his wife has to do with determining his authority in the family.

"Mommy, can I have some bread?" asked her daughter, holding on to the door frame, remembering that she couldn't scratch her mother's clothes.

"No, that's your dad's. The wife of the "pig intestine" said, "Will you give you bay leaves? ”

The little girl, accustomed to such disappointment, bit her finger and took a small leaf that her mother had torn with her fingernails and took it into her mouth, the bay leaf was still plucked from the sanctuary of Rosafa, where the laurel tree was so gracious that the leaves never withered and withered - the commoners would take the opportunity of drinking the holy water to stock up on a few leaves to dry and sell to the traveling merchants, dried bay leaves were a strong-smelling spice, and it was only fitting to hide the stench of spoiled meat, and the priests of Rosada knew it, but no one was stopped or intimidated.

The neighbors of the "pig intestines" would not do that, because the children, who could only eat and drink and could not work, were not entitled to anything that could be exchanged for bread and wine, and they maliciously called the wife of the "pig intestines" Madame, in order to mock her affection for her daughter—she knew, but she went her own way, her daughter was beautiful, more beautiful than when she was a child, and she had imagined that the little fellow might be able to become a real "lady" in the future, and who knows, it is said that a lord somewhere once married a peasant girl whom he saw in his carriage.

"Mommy......" cried the little girl, but her father had returned, and the woman had put all her attention on her husband.

"Pig intestines" were not in a hurry to eat, the ale just now was unexpectedly ferocious, his chest was hot, his head was a little dizzy, he took out a copper coin from his pocket, put it on the table, and counted carefully, "Ten." He said happily.

"Thirteen. His wife was surprised and said, "Did you do a lot of work today?"

"Ten. His wife shrugged her shoulders and didn't argue with him, she put away the twelve copper coins and put one back in her pocket in case she needed it.

"Ten!" said "pig intestines" to her daughter.

He picked up the little girl and put it on his lap, and the little girl grinned because she knew that her father would soon "accidentally" drop a lot of crumbs down, and she could eat the crumbs that fell on the table without being scolded by her mother.

The "pig intestines" first drank the wheat porridge, which had a burnt smell, which was normal, they could not afford an iron pot, and the clay pot was always easy to stick to the bottom, he ate the salted fish, and the thorns in the salted fish pierced his throat, and the white eyes made him think of something floating on the water, and the small shrimp were mixed with sand, and it was too salty, these were normal, but he became irritable for no reason.

He ate the bread absentmindedly, the coarse bread was mixed with small stones that had fallen from the millstone, and a particularly large piece of it had broken one of his molars, and the pain and blood filled his mouth, and he vomited it all, the dark bread ball was stained with white saliva, and a little blood, and his daughter thought it was for her, and immediately reached out and grabbed it and put it in her mouth.

"Pig intestines" let out an angry roar, he didn't know whether he was worried about his daughter having her teeth knocked out by a stone or being robbed of food, he only knew that he was about to reach the top - angry, sad, dissatisfied. He heard his wife screaming.

He yelled at her in a daze, threw down the little girl he had almost torn in half, rushed at his wife, pushed her down through gritted teeth, bouncing on her belly and singing.

A washerwoman who had passed by with an empty basket witnessed the tragedy, and she cleverly covered her mouth and ran away, presumably to call the guards or the priest of Rosada.

"Bring the record," said the black-robed mage behind a barrier disguised by spells, the emerald flame gem on the collar pin like a cat blinking in the dark, "We have to leave." ”

The spells on the barrier had failed not long after they had left, and a Rosada in white robe looked at it suspiciously, it looked like a tattered banner, perhaps once used in the merchant ships or caravans of the White Tower, they liked to use silk embroidered with the emblem as a mark, the silk thread was either gold or silver, but now it was covered in holes and was not even qualified to make a footcloth.

While the guards and the white robes were busy subduing the "pig intestines" and saving the poor pregnant woman, the initiator had already taken his subordinates away from the place.

They returned to the inner city, neatly dressed, with beautiful countenances, and with a calm countenance, and did not see at all what terrible evil had just been done—one of them, with a strange face and a generous salary, hired the "pig intestines" and other workers, and poured potions into the ale that had been given a drink—the same ones who had turned the rabbits of the Partridge Hill into bloodthirsty little monsters, and the "pig intestines" were the first to attack, and the others would delay for a day or two.

"Wonderful, Master Demon," the mage who had already regained his face whispered a compliment, and though he wasn't worried about hearing what they were saying, the spell that blocked the spread of sound still worked: "Your work - it's wonderful, wonderful, quack, the endless abyss is above, listen to those moving shouts-"

"That woman will surely regret not being able to take a good look at her little bastard. The other caster chimed in, but there was a slight sarcasm in his tone, clearly a little dismissive of the caster's retribution known as Demon.

"I said," said the second son of the consul calmly, "I hate Rosada. ”