In the "Devil's Stomach" tavern in the Seaport Trade District of King's Landing, there is a starling who can spit dirty words in dozens of languages. Over the years, its presence has shocked many business travelers who have come here to stop here.

Before the brawl broke out, everyone thought it was the blue-tongued bad guy perched on the shelf next to the fireplace, cursing and violently insulting the whole strong man from the southern part of Ramsay.

The man took the closest spot to the fire, engrossed in studying the horned pieces on the small ebony chessboard, eating the tavernkeeper's signature dish of chickpeas, carrots, dried lemons, and lamb.

His broad shoulders turned away from the birds, facing the door of the tavern, and the window that opened the louver visor towards the blue twilight. On this autumn night, which is not too cold, only the strong man and the starling, two residents from the southern part of Ramsay, need warmth.

The origin of the strong man is a mystery.

He was dressed in padded gray padded armor, and his hood had been worn out of the thread, and inside was a tattered white kazo, which made it seem that he had served under the command of a certain southern city lord.

But the brass keyholes on the straps of his half-height canvas boots indicate that he had been to some cities in the west, where many herders liked to wear these types of boots to graze or hunt on the grasslands.

In a tavern full of merchants from all over the world, no one dared to ask the strong man to understand the swear words. His skin was rust-like, and his bulging muscles showed great strength.

Not to mention, he carried a huge axe that was half a man tall behind him, and the surface of the axe was engraved with fine runes. And the reason why people are able to see the text is because there are some dried blood stains in it.

Except for that starling, no one wants to provoke such a bad star. After all, merchants came to King's Landing to make a fortune, not to risk their lives in a fight.

Therefore, some of the travelers in the tavern were for a moment in admiration for the bravery of the birds. It seemed to be cursing the strong man for devouring food in the perfect camel dialect, like the greed of a hybrid vulture and an ape when they see carrion.

However, before anyone could realize that the curse was too subtle and beyond the power of the starling's language—and therefore the bird was innocent, the strong man put his left hand into the boot. The movement was fluid and uninterrupted, as if the falcon had fallen from the sky with death, and a bright steel blade appeared in vain, and a few knots of cowhide wrapped around its rough hilt swooped over the bench and pounced on its prey.

The sound was like an impatient hand cutting through an envelope, and the dagger sliced through the top of the black wide-brimmed hat on the head of the prey. The prey was a stocky beast from a country shrouded in cold winds and fog all year round, and had just arrived in King's Landing by ship in the afternoon. His face was gloomy, his skin was as white as butter, and his hair hung down in two black curtains on either side of his round face.

By the time the crowd heard the thud of the dagger striking the wood, the hat had flown far away from the stout passenger's head. As if to express his astonishment, his hat shook and shook after being nailed to a pillar in the mud-plastered wall.

The bestials shouted a strange monosyllabic word in a cold dialect. In the fireplace, the blazing coals heaped in the shape of a fortress collapsed into a cloud of ashes, and many people could hear the click of the lid of the kettle above the stove. The benches creaked, and the travelers who were expecting a brawl spit at their feet as they pitched fire to the two conflicting men in a motley of language.

"Outlander, you'll have to pay for my hat. This is a sharp item made of silk, the most popular style of the year!"

The beast man gripped the dagger with two fingers, sharp nails piercing the cowhide wrapped around the handle. He pulled out the dagger, holding the torn hat in one hand, and flicked it at its original owner with the other.

Obviously, he didn't mean "compensation" in money, he wanted the other party to give his life to compensate for his broken black wide-brimmed silk hat. The dagger tore through the air and let out a piercing scream, and the hearts of everyone in the tavern were lifted.

"Wow!"

"Roar!"

"Phew!"

......

All kinds of strange screams sounded, some people were worried, some people were afraid, but the vast majority of this group of profit-seekers who traveled south and north were excited. The dagger was not stuck on top of the man's bare head, with only a ring of gray-black hair on the outer edge, but passed through an ebony chessboard, and was stuck in it.

Just as everyone was waiting for the conflict to escalate, there was a sudden sound of two bangs on the other side of the bar. The tavernkeeper, Mr. Gris, stepped out of the back kitchen and slammed a long-handled iron spoon twice on Cen Mu's bar.

"I don't care if you have fun, but if you break something in the tavern, I'll send you to a labor camp to work until you die," but as soon as he said the threat, he put on a relaxed face, and pointed to the side with a long-handled iron spoon.

It was the tavern's menu blackboard, and the two bartenders, nicknamed "Crooked Mouth" and "One-Eyed", had already wiped the handwriting clean with a brush. They rewrote it with chalk made of chalk, and one person was in charge of half of the blackboard. Clearly, the boss felt that there was no difference between making money by taking care of his guests and sitting back and watching them die.

The strong man with rust-colored skin stood up with a "pout", quickly pulled out the dagger from the chessboard, and then pulled all the chess pieces, including the broken chessboard, into the deerskin bag around his waist. He picked up his axe, "I am Namen from the south, what is your name, I rarely slaughter the nameless." Of course, it is possible to make an exception today. ”

The traveler, much shorter than him, unbuckled his neck and threw his fur back, revealing his equally muscular muscles. More travelers recognized it as an orc or barbarian—with protruding canine teeth and even sticking out of his lips, a very thick beard on his cheeks, and a pair of pale yellow pupils, but with a very fair complexion—rather than an orc or a barbarian.

"Your father, that is, my name is Kulian," he reached into the two leather bags around his waist as he spoke, and when he took them out again, Kulian already had a pair of fist swords in his hands, "Obviously he is also a rough man, pretending to be a gentleman who plays chess, I!"

In a very arrogant manner, Kulian spat a mouthful of thick phlegm in front of Namen, and then he pounced on him. Even though the "Devil's Stomach" is a relatively large hall, it is still an interior after all. The other party is taller than him, and the weapon he is holding is also a tomahawk that requires a relatively large space to be used, and Kulian clearly wants to bully people.

But the strong man named Namen didn't care, and walked around Kulian with strange crab steps under his feet, but no matter how he moved, the axe blade in his hand was always aimed at the opponent's chest and abdomen.

Many of the many drinkers were (or were) warriors. Seeing this high-level brawl, they couldn't help but feel their blood boiling, and many people ran directly to the bar and placed bets one after another according to the changing odds.