"Looks like you all want the orcs to disappear from here?" The soldier slammed his fist into the bar, "If it weren't for them, we'd have been eaten by the devil!" ”

"No one denies this. Margot took a sip of corn whiskey, "But the post-war supplies shouldn't be distributed that way." ”

"Don't forget, orcs used to be slaves. The voice came from the other side of the bar, and Eric couldn't see who the man was standing just in time, "It's human, it's demonic. Now, they want to take a qiē, shouldn't they be condemned?"

"Absolutely. If they dare to steal my stuff again, I'll definitely give them some color. The captain said.

The merchant nodded: "Orcs don't belong in this place. They came from another world, and it was the Burning Legion that brought them here. ”

The first mate muttered, "Perhaps, it's time for them to go back to their hometown." ”

"Think about Queen Proudmoore's decision. Margot said.

Eric frowned. There was silence in the inn. Just now, people were quietly commenting on their views and judging those who participated in the discussion.

But at this moment, when Margot mentioned the name of Gianna Prodmoor, and, in a contemptuous tone, everyone fell silent.

It's so quiet. During his three years of running a hotel, Eric discovered that shopping usually happens in two situations: when the hotel is too noisy; Or maybe it's when it's too quiet in a hotel. And the latter often causes more trouble.

The soldier seated next to the previous soldier stood up—his shoulders wide and his body wide, and though he didn't speak much, he opened his mouth with a terrifying sound like thunder, and the demon's skull rattled on the carriage. "Anyone dares to speak ill of Queen Prodmoor?

Margot swallowed a sip of wine and hurriedly continued: "I have always been respectful to Her Majesty the Queen, sir, I swear. He poured another large sip of whiskey, his eyes widening from the intensity of the drink. He shook his head desperately.

"Queen Proudmoor treated us well. "After the Burning Legion was driven out, she helped us establish our own tribe. What you say is true, but it is not the Queen's responsibility. I've known a lot of mages in my life. Most of them don't even deserve to lift my shoes, but the queen is different. If anyone dares to despise her, they will lose people's hearts. ”

"I do not mean to despise the Queen, sir. Margoz said, his voice trembling a little from the big sip of whiskey. "But don't you think it's strange that no one has consulted with the orcs about the wood mentioned by a few gentlemen?" He pondered for a moment: "Maybe she has tried, but the orcs won't agree." ”

The captain swallowed a sip of ale and said, "Maybe they want her to get her out of the North Outpost." ”

"We ought to get out of there," said the merchant, "and the barren land is a neutral area, as it was said from the beginning. ”

The soldier grimaced and said, "If you think we're going to give up there, you're crazy." ”

"That's where the orcs defeated Admiral Prodmoor," Margot said. ”

"Yes, it's hard to say anything about the world. Queen Prodmore was a wise leader, while her father was a fool. The merchant shook his head, "We should have put this scandal behind us, but it's hard, unless—"

The captain interrupted him: "If you ask my opinion, I would say that we should expand to the area north of the North Outpost. ”

The merchant seemed to be enraged—though it was none of Eric's business, for he neither cared nor wanted to know—and said, "Are you crazy?"

"You're crazy! The orcs are trying to squeeze us out. They are now all over the Holy Continent, and we only have Theramore. Three years after the battle with the Burning Legion, are we still going to live an inferior life on our own territory?—continue to stay in the dunghill of the city-state. ”

"Theramore is no worse than anywhere else," the soldier argued, but the rest of his words fell to the other side. "The Orcs are indeed larger than we are, and that's why we can't give up the North Outpost - it's the equivalent of a natural barrier outside the walls of Theramore. ”

"And," the first mate smirked at his ale, "the orcs don't like us to stay there. We're just going to stay there. That's why. ”

"Nobody wants you to talk. The merchant said ill-intentionedly.

The other man sitting at the bar—Eric shifted his steps, and now he could see that it was the dock bookkeeper—said, "Maybe that's the way it should be." The orcs behave like people to think that they are the masters of Kalimdor, not us. But this is our turf, and now it's time to act. Orcs are not human, they don't even belong to this world. Why do they dictate our lives?"

"However, they have the right to live their own lives. Isn't it?" The merchant asked.

The soldier nodded. "I have to admit that the heroic performance on the battlefield has earned them this right. If they hadn't ......," he drank down, then pushed his glass toward Eric, "a glass of ale." ”

Eric hesitated, his hand already reaching for the bottle of Grog. Since the opening of the shop, the soldiers have never drunk any other alcohol when they come back, only grogg.

However, Eric is inconvenient to ask a regular customer who has been patronizing for three years. Besides, the customer can drink whatever he wants, as long as he can afford it, even if he wants to drink soapy water, Eric has to sell it to him.

"In fact," said the captain, "this is our world, and we were born to be." The orcs are just outsiders, and they should have gotten out of the way a long time ago. ”

And so the discussion continued. Eric poured several more glasses of wine for his guests and tossed a few used glasses into the sink so they could be washed. It was only when he filled the merchant with another glass of ale that he discovered that Margoz, the initiator of the whole conversation, had quietly left.

He didn't even tip. Eric shook his head in disgust. The fisherman's name has long been thrown out of the sky by him.

But he still remembered that face. I don't know if he'll spit at this bitch's glass next time - just drink a glass of wine and get into such a big trouble. Eric hates people who cause trouble the most in his life. Inexplicably nasty.

More and more people are complaining about orcs. At that moment, the big man sitting next to the soldier raised his fist and slammed it towards the bar, and the ale in his cup spilled onto the demon's skull. Eric sighed, picked up a rag, and wiped it up.

For a long time, Margot did not dare to walk alone on the dark streets of Theramore.

Of course, there is no need to worry about criminals in such a place. Everyone knows each other, and even if they don't know each other, they can toss and turn to get into a relationship. So the crime rate here is quite low. And even if someone commits a crime, Queen Prodmore's guards will bring them to justice as quickly as possible.

However, Margot was so thin that tall and strong people always took pleasure in bullying the weak, so he always avoided going out alone at night. You never know when those strong men will jump out of a dark corner and beat you up just to show how strong they are. Margot was beaten several times. Later, he gradually learned how to please them and win their favor, so that he would not be beaten.

But now, he doesn't have to be afraid, he is not afraid of anything, because he has a master. Although Margoz had to do as he was told, this time the master promised to repay him with strength and wealth. In the old days, he only promised to save his life. Although this is tantamount to reacting violence with violence, Margoz feels that it is suitable for him. (To be continued.) )