At the gates of Flying Fish Port.
The sunlight was just right, making the soldiers guarding the gate look somewhat listless.
“Stay alert.”
One of the old City Guards spotted some activity and noticed something unusual approaching the gates. He reminded his comrades to heighten their vigilance in case of any incidents.
He looked closely and saw two youths supporting each other, and couldn’t help but show a look of disdain: “Never mind.”
The younger City Guard recognized them too, his eyes widening as he watched: “Tsk, tsk, they couldn’t have been raiding some beast’s lair, could they?”
As the two youths slowly approached, the others could see them more clearly. One limped while the other had a fearsome-looking horn, actually just a big lump on his head. Both were soaking wet, a ragged mess to behold.
Seeing them in such a sorry state, several City Guards hesitated to stop them, not wanting to trouble themselves.
The two youths were none other than Rosyth and Benson, returning from outside the city.
They moved forward with difficulty and finally crossed the city gates, arriving at a place behind the city walls where a donkey cart was stationed.
Seeing the two, the person in charge of the donkey cart wasn’t at all disdainful and stepped forward to ask, “Gentlemen, how may I assist you?”
Dazed, Benson said, “Home—home.”
Rosyth quickly spoke up to stop him, “Take us to the nearest and best medical facility, quick, and don’t worry about the fare.” His leg was broken, and the pain had been excruciating all the way, sweating profusely by now.
As soon as they boarded the donkey cart, Rosyth clenched his teeth and let out a sigh of relief.
He swore to the merciful Holy Mother that he would find an opportunity to take revenge for both this and the previous wrongs, once he became more powerful.
As for telling his parents, he really didn’t want to consider that option. It would be too embarrassing, and he wouldn’t be able to hang around these parts if he did.
…
Let’s leave the bedraggled pair for the moment.
Elsewhere, after entering the city, Ivan made his way to South City, near the docks, to an explorer tavern.
‘Hammerhead Shark.’
He glanced at the strange name above, the place his older brother Beaman had mentioned, and stepped into the noisy tavern.
The smell of alcohol and sweat was overwhelming.
Ivan frowned slightly and looked around as he stood at the entrance, then made his way to the counter.
“One Skull Wine, please.”
Behind the counter stood an older, muscular man, a fairly renowned retired explorer in the vicinity of the docks named ‘Old John.’
Old John glanced at Ivan, took an oak cup bound with iron wire, and placed it under a barrel on the shelf behind him. He pulled out the barrel’s wooden stopper and pale red wine gushed out, filling the oak cup.
As he handed over the drink, Old John warned, “Kid, don’t splash your drink around in here or I’ll have to test the hardness of your skull.”
Ivan paid a silver coin and took the oak cup without a word.
That was the disadvantage of being young; the other probably thought it was his first time drinking.
He took his cup to an empty table against the wall and sat down, first examining the ‘Skull Wine’ in his hand.
The tavern only had one size for its cups, the oak cup before him, which stood a notch taller than his palm. Inside the murky, pale red liquid was actually a kind of beer. ‘Skull Wine’ was the name of a drink from when the tavern first opened, known only to a few local toughs.
Now, it had been renamed ‘Hammerhead Wine,’ purportedly leaving one feeling as if their head had been struck by a mallet after drinking it.
But using the name ‘Skull Wine’ could save a lot of trouble, something Beaman had told him.
‘Not very strong, probably about 15 degrees, with a strong, strange taste to it.’ Ivan sipped and thought it must be a wheat beer, similar to a regular beer, mixed with a strong, numbing flavor.
It didn’t quite suit his taste.
He sipped quietly, observing the diverse crowd of the tavern, which included mercenaries dressed as explorers, eloquent traveling bards, more often dock workers and sailors, and a half-drunk nightingale leaning against a corner.
“`
This kind of place is the most mixed, there might be a few scammers and thieves inside.
While casually observing for a while, he was drawn in by the words of the traveling bard.
“Remember that gaudily decorated black ship last time? Quite a few young masters and ladies who boarded that ship didn’t make it.”
“Boastful Beale, the affairs of the nobility are hardly something you could pry into.”
“Hehe, I don’t need to pry; a lady who loves to hear my roaming tales told me after a few drinks. They say five or six people died.”
Hearing the conversation, Ivan’s gaze flickered slightly; Donnie had also mentioned this, but the numbers were different.
Another person revealed the traveling bard’s exaggeration, laughing heartily as he mocked, “Which lady? You mean a plump cook, ha ha ha.”
“That’s also a plump cook from a noble’s house, ha ha ha.”
The traveling bard also started to laugh, not the least bit offended by his companion’s teasing.
Ivan’s mouth twisted in a smile, almost believing the birdman’s words.
“Clang, clang—-“
Soon, a low banging sound came from the counter as Old John knocked on a rusty anchor with his fist.
Hearing the sound, many people got up and headed towards the back of the tavern.
Ivan left his barely touched Hammerhead Wine and followed the crowd to the back at an unhurried pace.
Behind the tavern, there was a passageway that led to a warehouse-like place; it was actually a ship that had been brought ashore. Now only its lower deck was left, and it was used as a trading marketplace, with square stalls fixed all around, spaced apart for displaying goods for trade.
This was also Old John’s territory, where he only charged the merchants the cost of a cup of Hammerhead Wine for rent.
Ivan was running low on medicinal ingredients. With Beaman not at home, he had to come here himself.
“How much are these?”
“The left one for 30 silver coins, the right one for 50 silver coins, and a bundle of arrows comes with either.”
Ivan thought the hand crossbow wasn’t bad earlier and regretted not taking any spoils of war from those men. Unexpectedly, he encountered someone selling strong bows and hand crossbows. After carefully comparing, he decisively paid 50 silver coins to get a delicate hand crossbow.
As the name implies, a hand crossbow is one that is strapped to the arm and can be hidden under loose sleeves. The top of the hand crossbow can load three short bolts at once and can be fired by shaking the arm or pumping the qi and blood.
He had learned a trick from Rosyth, the bolts should always be poisoned.
After browsing around for a while, Ivan found one of the vendors displaying some medicinal herbs. He subconsciously glanced at the man’s scruffy beard, which was only half there, indeed red.
“Mr. Red Beard, Beaman sent me.”
“The money?”
With one hand exchanging money and the other receiving goods, Ivan got a cloth bag, which contained boxes of various sizes.
As he handed over the cloth bag, Red Beard asked nonchalantly, “What about that secret medicine from last time?”
Ivan looked at Red Beard with a surprised expression, “What?”
Beaman had warned him about many things before, including that Red Beard was trustworthy yet somewhat crafty. He naturally wouldn’t fall for such a simple trick.
In a low voice, Red Beard said, “I heard that Beaman had a Breathing Secret Medicine; tell him to talk to me, I can help him make an extra five Gold Coins.”
After pondering for a moment with a puzzled look, Ivan replied, “No problem, I’ll pass on the message.”
Seeing that he truly had no knowledge, Red Beard released the cloth bag, allowing him to inspect it.
After completing the trade, he didn’t linger in the ship’s hold.
He originally wanted to see if there was any other Breathing Method for sale, but this marketplace was too small; it was impossible to find such precious items there.
After leaving the Hammerhead Shark Tavern, Ivan didn’t take the alleyway but walked back along the busier streets. A voice made him involuntarily stop and look over.
“Donnie, get your ass over here to this young master.”
