Chapter 6

Lock followed Uncle Yosha down the stairs, and at the turn of the staircase, he saw the beautiful innkeeper again. The innkeeper, who was bent over the counter doing accounts, allowed Lock to catch a glimpse of the white expanse of her chest from his angle. The innkeeper exuded an intellectual beauty as she worked, and Lock was so captivated that he nearly stumbled down the stairs.

It was already close to evening, with the setting sun casting a red glow across the sky. The orange light filtered through the bar’s curtains, illuminating the interior. There were not many big-headed soldiers left drinking in the bar; apart from Lock’s squad, who were still waiting for him, only a few others remained. After Uncle Yosha descended the stairs, he first greeted the soldiers still in the bar, saying, “Lads, it’s almost dinner time. I’m heading back to camp. Don’t drink too much.” The remaining soldiers respectfully responded, and only then did Uncle Yosha nod to himself and leave.

After seeing Uncle Yosha out of the bar, Lock returned to his subordinates. These guys were all about his age or even younger, and their drinking capacity was much worse than his. Apart from Hans and Cain, who were still lively, the others, like Yad, Phil, and the rest, were clearly quite drunk, their faces flushed as they mumbled incoherently on the table. Each of them had only a couple of empty glasses in front of them, roughly equivalent to the amount of one bottle that Lock and Uncle Yosha had consumed upstairs. However, the quality of the alcohol they drank was a notch lower, just ordinary chilled beer. Of course, the first round was on Lock, but the rest they had to pay for themselves.

“You guys, with such poor drinking capacity, you still drink so much. Are you trying to give me trouble?” Lock laughed and scolded them. Actually, they usually only drank one glass when they came to the bar, and two if they were feeling generous. Today, because Lock and Uncle Yosha had talked for a long time, they couldn’t resist spending their own money on a couple more glasses, which brought them to their limit.

After drinking, the guys felt more at ease with their loyal squad leader and paid little attention to Lock’s scolding, still dazed and lying around. Cain and Hans, however, were ready to force Lock into a seat and order a couple more drinks. “Captain, you’re buying today. What’s the deal with not drinking with the guys? Sit down, let’s have a couple more,” Cain said to Lock.

“Cut it out. Look at these guys, can they even drink more? Do you want to stay out all night? Quickly help them sober up! Otherwise, we won’t have dinner.” Lock waved his hands, “It’s my fault today. I talked for too long and left you guys hanging. I’ll treat you all another day!”

With that, Lock’s subordinates, who weren’t completely clueless, mostly managed to stand up. Cain and Hans also helped those who couldn’t stand, preparing to leave. The sky was getting darker, and apart from Lock’s group in the corner, there were no other soldiers drinking in the bar.

At this moment, a group of about 15 or 16 men, dressed in tattered clothes and with sallow faces, entered the bar. They were likely the remaining residents of the small town. Lock observed them calmly. These uninvited guests marched in with a threatening air. The middle-aged man leading them was about to say something when he suddenly noticed Lock’s group in the corner. The standard military uniforms revealed their identity, and the leader’s expression changed, quickly holding back his words. He looked at the soldiers with a mix of unease and reverence. The group he led, who had been talking noisily, suddenly fell silent, standing still and somewhat restrained.

Lock had no particular interest in these suddenly appearing town paupers and called his subordinates to leave. Before leaving, he went to the counter to settle the bill. Ten ordinary beers cost 10 copper ducats, and two higher-quality beers also cost 10 copper ducats, totaling 20 copper ducats, which was quite a good deal. Lock took out his money bag and placed 20 copper ducats on the bar counter.

Lock heard the sound of swallowing, coming from the tattered paupers. He noticed that they didn’t dare look at his money bag but were staring at the money on the bar counter, their mouths watering. 20 copper ducats was a significant amount here. The bar seemed busy today with about 30 to 40 people, but don’t be fooled by appearances. Most of them sat for the entire afternoon, unlike Lock’s subordinates, who had a captain buying them drinks. These people, mostly third-class soldiers or servants, didn’t have much spare money. They usually only came for one drink, but they spent their time here chatting and passing the time.

The bar’s daily earnings were estimated to be around 30 copper ducats, and on bad days, it might only be 20. In other words, the 20 copper ducats Lock had just paid were nearly a day’s worth of the bar’s revenue.

The innkeeper first glanced fearfully at the middle-aged man leading the group, then saw Lock coming to settle the bill. She smiled at him flatteringly and thanked him for his business. Lock nodded, glanced at the somewhat uneasy group, and led his subordinates out of the bar.

However, as soon as they left the bar, faint shouts and the sound of a woman crying and pleading could be heard from inside. Lock turned back and saw that four or five of the paupers were blocking the entrance, preventing anyone from seeing what was happening inside. Lock was taken aback and wanted to see what they were up to. As he looked at these tattered, emaciated, and dark-skinned paupers, who were blocking his view, he became angry. Although they didn’t show disrespect, they dared to obstruct his view. Under Lock’s increasingly intense gaze, these guards couldn’t hold out and reluctantly moved aside, revealing a gap through which he could see inside.

Inside the bar, a somewhat stronger pauper was trying to snatch a package from the innkeeper. The innkeeper was crying and pleading with the middle-aged man, but he remained indifferent. The malnourished young men around him were excitedly counting a few copper ducats. Lock realized these were the coins he had just paid for the drinks.

“What are you doing!” Lock suddenly shouted coldly. The somewhat noisy bar fell silent. Lock’s subordinates, who had just taken a few steps away, heard their leader’s harsh voice and turned back. Although they were drunk, they were soldiers and quickly sobered up. Following their leader’s gaze, they understood the situation and began to roll up their sleeves, ready to teach these people a lesson.

The beautiful innkeeper, who had been crying, stopped and looked at the bar entrance, where she saw the somewhat manly Fostan Kingdom officer. She recognized Lock, who was known to have some background and strength. He had come to her bar a few times and was different from the usual rough and vulgar soldiers. He was easy-going and had a certain charm. The innkeeper, Xianxi, had a good impression of Lock. Is he going to help me? she suddenly thought.

“Sir, this is an internal matter of our Giza town. Do you have any business here?” Perhaps intimidated by Lock’s cold voice or the pressure from the surrounding Fostan Kingdom soldiers, the middle-aged man hesitated for a moment before speaking.

Lock narrowed his eyes and emitted a cold gaze, slowly walking into the bar. His subordinates followed, and Cain and Hans kicked the paupers guarding the entrance, causing a chorus of groans. Lock approached the pauper who was struggling with the innkeeper for the package. His 1.75-meter height gave the malnourished, 1.7-meter-tall pauper considerable pressure. The pauper’s hand, which had been gripping the package, suddenly trembled and released it. The package was pulled away, and a pile of copper coins, about 30, and a few slightly loose women’s undergarments and clothes, presumably the innkeeper’s, fell to the ground.

“Slap!” Lock slapped the pauper who had been trying to snatch the package, sending him rolling away. He then slowly turned to face the middle-aged man leading the group of paupers. “Sir, you...” The middle-aged man tried to speak, but “slap!” another slap from Lock, this time drawing a few teeth, made him bend over and cover his face. The two slaps seemed to be a signal, and Lock’s subordinates rolled up their sleeves and gave the group in the bar a vivid lesson. Yad kicked the young man holding a few copper ducats, Cain, like a bear, picked up two weak men and slammed them together, and Cain slapped the paupers in the bar from head to toe, mimicking Lock. Even Phil, the youngest, grabbed a man his size and gave him a series of punches. The rest followed suit, beating the group of ruffians until they cried for their mothers.