Quinn's Tavern is located in a prime location on Mantline Street, and Mantline Street is the city center of Old South York. It stands to reason that the business will be very good. Not to mention that it is always overcrowded, but it is not as bad as it looks at the door.
Deserted.
When Verak approached the dilapidated door, he felt a bad premonition inexplicably. He touched the pistol on his waist through his coat, and felt a lot more at ease.
After walking into the small door of the tavern, the inside was much more spacious than Verak had imagined. It was roughly estimated to be hundreds of square meters. There were also a lot of people, and the seats were almost full.
On one side, several tables were filled with people playing cards and drinking, while on the other there were people singing and dancing. There was a tacit understanding amidst the chaos, and a customary orderliness.
Verak smelled the strong aroma of wine and sweat, and couldn't help but hold his nose and cough lightly. Then while looking at the guests around him, he walked to the bar and asked, "What kind of wine do you have?"
"Who do you belong to?" The mustachioed man in a shabby white shirt in front of the bar did not enthusiastically introduce the drinks in the pub to Verak. Instead, after hearing that his Dunman was a bit lame, he first asked about Verak's origins.
.
"What?" Verak vaguely felt that the guests around him were casting unkind glances at him, so he did not rush to answer and quickly analyzed the situation in secret.
"I ask again, who do you belong to?" The man with a mustache in front of the bar had cold eyes and a tough tone.
Verak felt that if he delayed any longer, the situation would get out of control, so he had to say: "I don't understand what you are talking about. This is my first time in the Old South, and I don't belong to anyone."
"First time here? Where are you from?"
"Bresi people." Verak said, looking around and found that his intuition was correct, and everyone around him was indeed staring at him.
"You came straight to us when you first arrived in Dunman?" The man was obviously not convinced by Verak's explanation and still maintained a high degree of suspicion towards him.
Verak guessed something.
The layout of Quinn's Tavern must be different from what Keating knew before, otherwise an ordinary pub would not be so wary of a customer who comes to drink.
There seemed to be a conflict with some other force in the Old Southern Testament, and he was mistaken for someone from the other party.
"Yes." Verak remained calm in the face of danger, gave full play to his acting talent, and based on what Keating had briefly told about his old friend Wilson, he temporarily began to fabricate his own origin and purpose in order to defuse the people in the pub.
Suspicious, he asked for details, "I came all this way just to come to this Quinn's Tavern."
"How to say?"
"Well...my Dunmanese is not very good, so I may speak slower..." Suddenly he had to give a more complicated explanation, which was a test of Verak's vocabulary. He first fought with the mustached man.
It’s a good way to say hello, lest the other party can’t wait to cause any situation, and then explain the reason slowly using the words he knows as much as possible, “My father came here six or seven years ago, and the boss here at the time, Mr. Wilson, helped me.
There are many fathers. Later, when my father returned home, he always wanted to find an opportunity to express his gratitude to Mr. Wilson. However, he was not in good health and was not suitable for traveling far. He could only ask me to come..."
"Your father knew Wilson, and you came here to express your gratitude to Wilson on your father's behalf?" the man with a mustache summarized Verak's explanation.
Virak carefully listened to what the man with the mustache said. After taking a few seconds to digest it, he nodded and said, "Yes."
"What's your father's name?"
"Most Klein." Verak didn't know his father's name, so he made a random answer.
"Most Crane...what's your name?"
"Most Verak." Now, except for Verak himself who told Locke Shriver, no one in the government knew that Chris was dead or his real name, so he didn't do anything to hide it in Dunman.
He used his real name openly and honestly.
The man with the mustache did not stop questioning Verak: "What did Wilson do to help your father?"
"My father came to the Old South to make a living, but the xenophobia here was so serious that he couldn't find any work and spent all his money. It was Mr. Wilson who gave my father some money when he was desperate so that he could
Back to Bressy."
"Then your father asked you to come back to thank Wilson. Did you bring any tokens?"
"Sorry, I didn't hear you clearly. Can you speak slower?"
"Since your father asked you to come back to thank Wilson, did you bring anything to him?"
Apart from the money, the only thing left on Verak's body was the pistol at his waist. He pretended to be digesting, translated the mustached man's words, took the opportunity to weigh it, and finally acted like he understood, while nodding, he took out five dollars from his pocket.
A note with a face value of one hundred pounds: "At that time, Mr. Wilson lent my father five hundred pounds, and now I am here to return it to Mr. Wilson."
Dunman's five hundred pounds was equivalent to one gold gram in Bressey. Verak guessed that one of his reasons was that Wilson would be the limit for lending one gold gram to a stranger, so he specially prepared such a number.
"Just give it to me." The man with the mustache took the five-hundred-pound note from Verak's hand, "My name is Willow, and Wilson is my father."
"Really? Then where is Mr. Wilson now?" Verak showed a natural expression of joy when he learned that the man who had clearly interrogated him was the son of Keating's old friend.
"My father passed away due to illness a year ago." Willow wiped the bar.
"Then what?" Willow raised his head and glanced at Verak. His attitude did not improve just because Verak gave him five hundred pounds. He was still cold, "Now that the money has been given, you can leave."
"Can't you have a glass of wine?" Verak took out another hundred pounds and put it on the bar.
Now that Wilson is dead, the clues to the gold can only be investigated through Willow, and he must have a good relationship with Willow.
"Only locals are entertained here." Willow looked a little impatient and didn't know whether to believe what Verak just said. "You can go out and look at the house number clearly next time you go somewhere else. If there is something wrong on the house plate,
If foreigners are allowed to enter, you'd better not go in and cause trouble. If you still come here like this time, you won't be so lucky."
"I don't plan to go anywhere else," Verak said.
Willow accepted the hundred pounds on the table: "This money is considered as buying my advice."
"Then can you tell me where Mr. Wilson is buried? I want to go and visit, so that I can at least have an explanation with my father when I go back." Once I go out this time, it won't be good to use the same reason next time.
came in, so Verak refused to leave, trying to get more clues.
"My father doesn't like to be disturbed." Willow raised his head and looked at Verak, "Now, get out."
"etc."
Just when Verak was at a loss, at the card table next to him, a middle-aged man with a rugged appearance who exuded a murderous aura stood up and limped to the bar: "Rum, give it to him too."
One cup.”
"Yes." Willow seemed convinced by the disabled man, his expression changed from cold to respectful, and he prepared two glasses of rum skillfully and pushed them to the two of them respectively.
"What kind of wine is popular in Brexi?" the middle-aged man asked in a rich voice as he picked up the wine glass and took a sip.
Verak was not sure what the man's intention was in talking to him: "Wine, julep, inbit..."
"Ah, yes, wine, you have many wineries there." The middle-aged man remembered some information from Bresci.
"Are you..." Verak asked.
"My name is Larry Xin." Xin introduced himself, "My father and Willow's father were in the army together, and we were good friends through life and death. After he was discharged from the army, he opened a tavern and I became a butcher."
This Xin is actually an old friend of Wilson for decades, so will Keating get to know him?
After making a guess in secret, Verak asked tentatively why Xin came to talk: "So that's it... Then why did you come to me for a drink?"
"Wilson and I are good friends, and I am even more qualified than Willow to tell you where he is buried." Xin's accent was a little strange, which made it difficult for Verak to hear, "But I have a request."
"What request?"
"Play cards with me for a while. If you win, I will tell you where Wilson is. If you lose, how about leaving some money?" Xin asked.
"Boss Xin, let him-" Willow wanted to say something.
Xin had already walked back to his seat, and the other people at the same table stood up and retreated to both sides, waiting for Verak to come forward.
Willow saw this and stopped meddling.
Verak was relieved to learn that Xin was originally targeting his money.
Problems that can be solved with money are not big troubles.
In addition, he noticed a detail. When Willow called his father's best friend, he did not call him uncle, but "Boss Xin".
This reminded him of what Keating had told him about the extremely chaotic situation in Old South York where there were many ethnic groups, rich and poor, numerous gangs, and gangs when he came here.
Could this Boss Xin be the leader of a local gang mentioned by Keating?
"Do you know how to play blackjack?" Boss Xin asked Verak if he wanted to play blackjack at the beginning, and now he asked him if he knew how to play blackjack. It was like he said it symbolically. He didn't care about Verak at all.
Answer, sit down directly after asking and prepare cards.
Seeing that it was not easy for him to get out in this situation, Verak, who was alone among the Dunman people, stabilized his mind, walked to the seat and said: "I don't have much money with me, and I can play with you for five hundred pounds at most."
"
"Okay." Boss Xin agreed.
Verak sat down and looked at the pile of cards on the table.
"Can you play?"
"No." Verak shook his head.
While explaining the rules of the game, Mr. Xin also simplified it a bit: "Blackjack is a poker game. You draw 52 cards except the big and small kings, and try to make the total number of cards in your hand reach 21 points, or close to 21.
point, but not more than, no more
Compare the total points with me to determine winning or losing. Cards 2 to 9 are calculated according to their original points; cards k, q, j and 10 are all counted as 10 points; card a can be counted as either 1 point or 11
point, it’s up to you to decide what it is after the suspension.”
"I understand..." Verak roughly understood how to play.
"Do you want to shuffle the cards again?" Boss Xin looked confident, determined to let this outsider keep some money.
Verak didn't even think about winning. If he lost, he would still be able to lose money and avoid misfortune. If he won, if he made Boss Xin unhappy, the situation would become more difficult: "No, I believe you."
"Since you trust me so much, then you come first." Mr. Xin said.
The strong men next to him were laughing and whispering. Verak took out the only seven hundred-pound banknotes left in his pocket, took out five and placed them on the table: "One game will determine the outcome?"
"certainly."
"Okay." Verak leaned forward, drew a card, and glanced at it himself.
Boss Xin observed Verak's expression and then took one too.
No matter what they drew first, it was still far from enough to explode, so they both quickly drew the second card.
At this point, the situation became slightly tense.
Verak looked at the K and 7 in his hand. His current value added up to seventeen points. As long as he draws a card greater than 4 on the next card, the point will exceed 21 and he will lose.
Boss Xin squinted his eyes and asked, "Do you want more?"
"Yes." After thinking for a moment, Verak decisively drew another card.
Anyway, he didn't want to win, so there was no need to be so restrained.
"I lost." Turning over the newly drawn cards, Verak spread out the three cards and shrugged.
He drew K again on his third card, and the total points reached twenty-seven, which immediately exploded.
Boss Xin grinned and revealed his two cards. His points were fifteen: "Why do you insist on seeing Wilson?"
"My father asked me to thank him in person." Verak handed the five-hundred-pound banknote to Mr. Xin and repeated his reason, "I came all the way here, so I have to give an explanation to my father."
"What a filial child." Boss Xin took the money and gave it to his subordinates standing nearby. "Wilson was buried in the sea. If you want to see him, go to the beach to mourn."
After leaving Quinn's Tavern, Verak felt relieved.
Fortunately, this group of people were xenophobic, but not very hostile. They thought he came to Wilson to express his gratitude and let him go, otherwise he would most likely be mistaken for someone from some other force and would encounter something unexpected.
"Huh..." He breathed a long sigh of relief and looked up at the window of the hotel opposite, where Keating was waiting for him.
Although he was in some danger just now, he still got a lot of useful information.
After returning to the hotel, he told Keating everything about the situation.
Keating's face became solemn after hearing this.
"Teacher, do you know the man named Larry Xin? People in the tavern call him Boss Xin." Verak stood at the window and looked at Quinn's Tavern with fear.
"We know him." Keating seemed to know Boss Xin well, "He'll be in trouble if he's here."