"Before arranging a room, give me a round."

Lanne's two fingers tapped on the bar.

The tavern owner nodded in disbelief, and placed a small wooden glass on the bar.

"Want to be cold?"

He looked up and asked.

"The cooler, the better."

The tavern owner brought out a bottle of wine from under the bar with the sound of glass bottles clashing one after another, and the brown glass bottle was still hanging from the outer wall of the condensed water.

"Try this, the mead from Skaliger, sweet as honey, as strong as a knife."

Of course, it will also be expensive.

The boss didn't say the price, and poured it directly for Lanen. And the witchers don't care about the little money now. If this wine really deserves the price.

Three fingers pinched the small wooden cup, and Lan En drank it all.

Feel the strong alcohol slicing through your throat, and the cold liquid creates a comfortable contrast with your own hot body temperature.

"Whew~"

Lan exhaled softly.

"Two more dinners, bring this bottle of wine."

The tavernkeeper raised an eyebrow.

"What do you pay the bills with?"

"Orencoin, no trimming."

"Ten Oron, then."

Under the suspicious gaze of the tavernkeeper with his hands on his chest, Lan En took out a stack of gold coins from the alchemy leather bag on his back and spread them out on the palm of his hand.

Fingers flicked a few times, then pinched a few, and the rest were directly upside down on the table.

Bright, untrimmed coins line up the bar, and Foltest's sideways head is clearly visible on the coin.

It's a real pleasure to give this money.

The tavernkeeper sneered.

I should have said two more pieces if I knew it, and it seems that this person doesn't seem to be able to bargain.

As soon as he swept the gold coins on the table into his arms, the tavern owner quickly arranged two rooms and dinner.

Grilled pork ribs with garlic, marinated fish sandwich, and a piece of cheese and a large glass of beer.

The Sintra dinner is not exquisite, but it is quite porcelain. Although the country is close to the sea, the capital city of Sintra is not close to the sea, so the proportion of seafood in dinner is not large, and it is not as good as Goth Willen's Silver Heron Tavern.

With two large plates and his own wine, Lan turned and walked towards the long table in the tavern hall.

Regis had already set up two horses and sat there waiting.

At the other end of the tavern hall, there is a very lively crowd of people, and it is also the best lighting place in the entire tavern.

The hormonal cries of the men rang out in that corner.

With the transcendent senses of witchers and vampires, they were able to separate their voices from the shouts of the crowd.

It was the sound of fist-to-flesh fighting, the sound of knuckles wrapped in flesh hitting the bones of a person's face.

Lane placed the plate on the long table, shared it with Regis, and sat down.

"Is this a boxing match? Or drunk and beaten each other? ”

The witcher asked, confused.

In view of Sintra's fierce folk customs, it is likely that the men's drunken assault will not make onlookers think of avoidance.

The Sintra men presumably spontaneously surrounded the two sides of the brawl, cheering for them to beat each other until the only one stood awake and walked out.

It's not much like a boxing match, so it's hard to tell what they're doing just by listening outside.

Regis politely thanked Lan for bringing dinner, and then explained slowly.

"The Fists of Fury Tournament, an entertainment that came from the Skelly Islands."

Regis took the small glass of honey that Rann had poured for him, and continued.

"The violent and honor-minded nature of the islanders gave rise to this bare-handed, battle-to-the-beat boxing match, which spread to Sintra through trade and exchange, where it gained the affection of the equally wild Sintra people."

"I have to say that this format of competition can really make the hormone levels of intelligent creatures soar, and then get excited, and it will not cause high death and injury rates due to the use of weapons. It's kind of a mild competition. ”

"I think this format will spread even further in the future. After all, in the city, there are not many opportunities for citizens to watch the fight, and many rules and regulations do not support it. Boxing is a great complement. ”

"Okay, I see."

Rann nodded, then clinked a glass with Regis and began to eat.

Now he is already a bully when he fights with ordinary people, let alone boxing.

But he wanted to eat quietly, and there were people in the tavern who didn't want any boring 'quiet'.

A long, slender man with a face full of acne scars staggered over from the adjacent table. His clothes were covered with dirty patches and smelled of cheap alcohol.

Looks like a disobedient person who has drunk too much.

In fact, from the moment Lan En entered the door, this guy's gloomy eyes had already followed this obvious out-of-town guy.

"What kind of sword are you? Elven sword? chirp weapons! ”

He staggered as he approached the table where Lan was standing, and as he was serving the plate, Arondaite's hilt peeking out from under his cloak at his waist.

"People like you are not welcome in Sintra, hidden! It's a decent city! ”

The vampire and the witcher had just finished a drink, and their hands were frozen in the air after the man's interjection.

Regis gave Rann an inquiring look, and after the witcher shook his head slightly, Regis resumed eating as if he hadn't seen anything.

"I don't seem to be in your way, man."

A calm voice came from under the hood.

But for drunks, they don't have logic, and if they want to find trouble, then they can find trouble even if there is no reason.

"What accent is this, hillbilly? Why can't I tell where you're from? As far as I know, there is only one person who can speak in such a non-characteristic way! ”

The man leaned his scarred face closer to Lan En, his eyes widening and his expression becoming more and more agitated.

"Spy!"

"That's how a spy speaks! Not to mention you're still holding an elven sword! ”

His mouth continued to be full of babble, accompanied by the taste of bad beer, onions, and anger.

"Did you hear me, you spy bastard from the south!"

Lan En tilted his head quietly and said calmly after he had finished shouting.

"Are you done now, sir? Your remarks about the 'Southern Spy' have already caused me and my companions a lot of unkind eyes, if you stop there."

Before Lan could finish his calm and rational words, the man pressed his face closer again.

"I just can't 'stop'! You southerner dogleg. Boom! ”

But this time, Lan En didn't give him another chance to finish.

The arm that was originally quietly placed on the dining table, when everyone except Regis did not react, fell in the next second, and grabbed the man's neck!

In the wide palm, the man's neck was almost completely held by one palm!

Because the speed of the hand is too fast, just the action of 'holding' makes the acne scar man feel like he has been punched in the Adam's apple.

His eyes were wide open and his eyeballs were protruding, but he couldn't breathe.

On the table where the acne scar man came from, several Sintra men jerked over their chairs and stood up, looking menacing.

But when Lan also stood up, and raised his arms flat, so that the acne-scarred man's feet were off the ground, the angry faces of these men calmed down like a wise man.

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(End of chapter)