Thales sat at the bar, looking at the Xihuang Old Beer in his hand, feeling depressed for a while.
During this period, Kuaisheng was sweating profusely in and out of the tavern, rummaging through the ledgers, checking numbers, and busy with the property left by Kanze during his lifetime, while Louisa, Dean, McGee, and Dante's swords were also busy one by one.
Come to the tavern and go up to the second floor to have a meeting with Seaman and Old Hammer.
"Waiya, are you sure it's okay for you to sit here?"
Dean squeezed into the noisy tavern, and before going upstairs, he looked doubtfully at Thales, who was sitting beside him angrily.
"Sure," Thales burped as he pulled his face out of the cup and stared at Tampa on the other side of the bar with an unfavorable expression, gritting his teeth until he said, "I'm familiar with the tavern owner."
"That's good," Dean glanced at Tampa suspiciously: "Tampa is a relatively reliable mercenary agent. He knows a lot of contacts. If you want to find a way home, maybe..."
Thales nodded stiffly.
Dean shrugged and walked upstairs to attend the internal mercenary meeting.
Time passed, and soon, the night after sunset ushered in the Blade Ya camp.
People were coming and going in the tavern, drinking and drinking.
Many people noticed Thales sitting in the corner, but most of them were forced back by Tampa's eyes.
While the minstrels were smiling and singing to attract business, they were wary of the competition among their peers. Scantily clad girls swayed between the wine tables in a flamboyant manner. From time to time, they used the grooves on their chests to attract money. Some of them would hide their faces or behave mysteriously.
The people huddled behind the table, dancing and arguing in low voices under the table, doing dirty deals that Thales probably didn't want to know and didn't dare to know about.
Thales had seen the Sunset Bar in the underground street. It was always noisy with people coming and going, but everyone knew that it was the territory of the Brotherhood. No matter how chaotic the scene was, not many people dared to cause trouble inside.
This is not the case at my bar.
When Thales saw the guests at the third table fighting over an unevenly distributed business, he finally couldn't help but said to the boss: "Is that what you're looking at?"
"if not?"
Tampa behind the bar waved lazily, signaling a waiter to go deal with the mess and pay the bill.
"This is the Saber Camp, full of interests, calculations, opportunities, and dangers, but law and morality only appear occasionally. It would be strange if people don't fight." Tampa opened his account book and quickly recorded something: "Don't worry
, the folk customs in the Blade Ya camp are simple and honest, didn’t you see that they obediently paid the money after they broke the tables and chairs?”
Simple folk……
Thales twitched his cheek.
"What if they don't pay?"
Tampa raised his head, and the scar on his neck trembled.
"As everyone knows, I know many mercenaries and adventurers in the camp, and I often introduce business to them," the tavern owner smiled politely: "And there are many professional debt collectors among them. For my sake,
They only took a penny of profit and paid for the aftermath and collection of the body.”
Thales nodded slightly, with a clear look on his face: "I see, you really have a lot of talents here."
Damn the simple folk customs.
Thinking about his next move, Thales asked the tavern owner absentmindedly: "So, Cohen deposited money with you? Why?"
"This used to be a common practice. At the end of the Year of Blood, a soldier who went on an expedition would keep his reward money in the rear and collect it when he came back if he could still come back alive."
Tampa sat behind the bar with a comfortable look on his face, watching the guys busy working around him, as if it had nothing to do with him: "Later, in order to motivate the soldiers, Baron Williams promised that the victims would receive several times the amount of
The savings... After the purge campaign ended, I retired, so I took over this habit, hoping to turn it into a business."
"But it seems..." Looking at the fast rope sitting in front of a businessman in the distance and counting money hard, Tampa sighed helplessly.
"The purge...battle?" Thales asked, "Is it part of the desert war?"
Tampa snorted.
"I guess you haven't seen the Desert War ten years ago?"
Thales shrugged: "Obviously."
Tampa nodded and put on an "I knew it" look: "Of course you haven't seen the large and small purge battles that lasted for several years after that."
"How to say?"
Tampa narrowed his eyes and looked nonchalantly at a pair of drinking guests in the distance. He watched them go from being arm-in-arm, as close as brothers, to talking harshly and exchanging fists, as if they were used to it.
“The great victory in the desert war is always trumpeted: the dilapidated Kingdom of Stars raised up its mourning soldiers and remaining brave men, bravely expedition into the desert, and faced directly the Barren Bone Tribe and the Orc Tribe who took advantage of the bloody year to move eastward...
"
He snorted coldly:
"But you know, for us, the most difficult thing is not how to defeat the bastards and desolate species. You can repel them once, but you can repel them countless times. It is how to protect your victory after repelling them, how to be glorious.
After the victorious main force returned home to take care of their babies, they carried the military flags and blown cowhide they left behind, and how to clear out the enemies hidden deep behind the sand dunes and caves bit by bit, and the remnants of the soldiers who were left waiting for opportunities.
How to hold on to the passage with a small force, fight back when the bastards come back again and again, fight head-on, and let the desert races, especially the stubborn orcs, get used to your presence and fear your power, just like the rogue hyenas are used to.
The Lion King’s new territory.”
"This requires a process," Tampa's eyes slowly drifted away: "In this process, there are no battles recorded in the annals of history, no desperate decisive battles, no earth-shattering bloody battles...but its tragedy and sacrifice are not inferior in the slightest.
"
"Victory is forged with blood," he said calmly: "In order to consolidate victory, you have to pay more blood."
"This is the Purge Campaign."
Tampa pointed to the wall behind the bar: an old but still sharp old ax hung there.
"Are you also in it?" the prince asked solemnly: "Whether it is a desert war or a purge campaign?"
Tampa nodded.
"The Blade Tooth Camp at that time was not like what you see now: the wounds of the Bloody Year have not healed, and the main force of the desert war has withdrawn. We did not have conscripts who came from all over the country for free, and there was no gold and silver.
The splendid and ostentatious aristocratic private army has no logistics support from merchants and the royal family, no cavalry group of earth-shattering size, and no confidence and courage to charge the entire army into the desert with a single order."
"We only have ourselves, the star people of the Western Wilderness: the legion formed by the farmers, the commando team gathered by the mercenaries, the death squad composed of scum... Even the main force of the Duke of the Western Wilderness, the Skull Guard from the ruins are so poor
Jingle, our Crow Guard has more saddles than people who can ride. Only the first platoon of the Black Lion Infantry Brigade is a fully trained battlefield veteran. The Baron's Stardust Guard even had to supplement its manpower from the criminals in the Bone Cage.
After the Year of Blood, many nobles were exiled for crimes, and quite a few of them were people with considerable family backgrounds and good training."
"But we can only grit our teeth, use scarce medicine and a small amount of supplies, go deep into the barren and exhausting sand dunes, search every corner from the Saber Tooth Camp to the depths of the desert, and fight against those who are in groups in twos and threes regardless of sacrifice.
, the bastards and wild breeds who came back from the temptation infiltration fought to the death, until they felt the pain, realized the cost of returning to their hometown, admitted the fact of failure, and never dared to send anyone to die again."
Thales stared blankly at the ax on the wall.
It was unimaginable that along the way, the wind-sand-swept wasteland had been the most brutal battlefield.
"Among them, the big stupid Cohen is an outlier," Tampa laughed: "A nobleman who is so stupid that no one can touch him."
"Cohen?" Thales was slightly startled: "He fought in the desert? The Purge Campaign?"
"Fighted?"
Tampa snorted from his nose, seemingly amused.
"He's a tough fighter."
Tampa's eyes welled up with nostalgia.
"A tough guy born for the battlefield. In the past three years, he beat the hell out of dozens of orcs."
"Why?" Thales asked in surprise:
"Cohen's identity... he is the heir to the noble Karabyan family, and he has an entire Vola territory waiting to inherit it, right?"
"How do I know, those nobles who come and go?" Tampa laughed: "How do I know what the hell happened to him, so that he could let go of his good life and come here to suffer."
The image of that stupid big man appeared in Thales's mind and he fell into deep thought.
"You know, one time, we were ambushed."
Tampa seemed to be quite emotional: "The gray bastard from the Dead Iron Tribe swung the hammer like a storm, leaving only broken limbs and flesh wherever it passed. When it brought the bastards down all over the mountains and fields...
"
Thales thought of the orc Kandar and the almost unstoppable night attack, and suddenly his heart palpitated.
"We were killed and scattered, lost contact with the Qingqi, panicked, and fled with our lives," Tampa sighed: "Silly Big Man and the others were forced into the inner desert by them, and there was no news for half a month.
.”
"We all thought they would never come back."
"The team even collected their relics. According to Frank, the Baron even had a headache about how to write an obituary for Cohen's aristocratic father."
The noise in the tavern was still there, but Thales just listened to Tampa's story attentively.
I saw the boss let out a sigh of relief.
"Then one day...a dozing sentry outside the camp suddenly discovered that in the distance, on the horizon between the sunset and the desert..."
"A figure appeared."
Thales' eyes narrowed.
"I came here alone, walking alone, shaky and bruised."
Thales inhaled slightly: "Cohen?"
Tampa nodded slowly.
"In the entire Blade Tooth camp, all of us, including Baron Williams' guards, stood there blankly, watching the noble young master walking in a trance, limping, holding the damn thing tightly in his hand.
The gray bastard, the ugly head of the notorious killer Xisa Deathiron the Meat Hammer."
"He walked into the camp just like that, unconscious and trembling. He couldn't even recognize the most beautiful beauty Felicia standing in front of him."
"He just walked forward without stopping, looking confused and mumbling to himself, until he collapsed."
"The baron personally took the ugly head of Sissa Deathsteel from Korn and tied it to the flagpole."
Time seemed to stop at this moment, and both Tails and Tampa fell silent.
Until the boss grabbed a bottle of wine and took a sip.
"From that day on, no one in the camp called him 'Little Master', and no one secretly spit in his water bottle," Tampa put down the bottle, took a deep breath, and sighed: "From that day on
, he became a 'big fool'."
"A good warrior from Blade Tooth Camp, a true man, 'Big Fool' Cohen."
Thales remained silent for a long time.
Unexpectedly, that big man who smiled heartlessly and seemed to have no brains had such a thrilling and passionate past.
"It's a good story," the prince nodded: "It's worthy of being sung by the minstrels."
Tampa snorted, not knowing whether he was in a good mood or out of his mind. He actually took the initiative to bring a plate of food, placed it between himself and Thales, and started eating: "How is he now?"
Now?
What floated in Thales's mind was that Cohen who swore to support him in the Temple of the Bright Moon six years ago to fight back to the Palace of Heroes.
"As far as I know, he has not returned home and is still working as a security officer in the royal capital, but I haven't seen him for a long time."
"The royal capital..." Tampa pondered.
"I know he is a noble, and nobles are very complicated and have a lot of troubles."
He shook his head.
"I guess that silly big guy also has his own responsibilities and worries."
Thales said nothing.
The boss finally sighed slightly: "I hope he is still the same real man and as stupid as ever."
Thales nodded and drank the slightly bitter beer in the cup.
"He will be," the prince said with a powerful smile:
"And I will be stupid for the rest of my life."
Tampa stared at him for a long time and finally laughed out loud.
"Yeah, I hope so."
"So," Thales coughed, "After the war, Cohen went to the royal capital, and you came to open this tavern?"
"No, I just took over... Did you see the slogan on the sign at the door? 'My House' has been open for two or three hundred years," Tampa waved his hand:
"When you are tired of the flash of swords and swords...you know, ordinary little days are more attractive."
Thales snorted sarcastically.
"An ordinary little day?"
"Believe me, based on my experience and the people I know," the prince said angrily: "Anyone who can be a tavern owner in a place like this does not live an 'ordinary little life'."
"Come on, didn't I just give you the 'first lesson'? Don't hold it to yourself," Tampa glanced at him disdainfully: "You act like a bitch, are you sure you are not Quick Rope's girlfriend?"
"I just don't like people plotting against me..."
"Ha, one look at your face and I can tell that you must have been tricked a lot since you were a child."
Thales gave him a polite but hypocritical smile and looked down at his food.
"By the way, are you just going to stay here and never leave?"
Tampa frowned: "You know you have to pay for all this food, right?"
"I'm waiting for Dean and the others...wait, pay?" Thales choked: "But this is what you served!"
"That's why I need you to pay me. If you brought it yourself, how much more would I charge?"
Thales looked at his boss dumbfounded.
"A Mindis silver coin, thank you for your patronage." Tampa said with a smile: "For the sake of the silly guy, I gave you a preferential price."
After reluctantly handing over a few Solon silver coins, Thales took a bite of the food with the intention of not eating anything for nothing. He looked at the tavern that was slowly getting quiet, frowned and asked, "It's me.
Is it an illusion, or are there really fewer and fewer customers?”
"In normal times, the later the time, the more people there are in the pub."
"But it's different recently. The composition of the Blade Tooth Camp is complicated, and there is a curfew every night." Tampa yawned: "If you wander the streets during the curfew time and are caught by the patrolling soldiers... you know,
Many of the temporary conscripts have come to the Blade Fang camp for the first time to take charge of the defense when the royal family's standing army is away. They don't know what it means to 'turn a blind eye' and either lose money to eliminate disasters or go to jail."
"Just last month," Tampa shook his head: "The famous 100-man mercenary, 'Blood Whistle', was arrested and a lot of people went in. It's useless to say anything to them. Those new ones are here."
The army shows no mercy at all."
Thales frowned: "So you have some dignity and can speak out for people in jail?"
"For many years, 'my family' has been providing supplies to the Prison of Bones. Of course, we have our own methods," Tampa snorted condescendingly: "Who do you think pulled that quick-talking fast rope out of the prison?
of?"
"Then you introduced the fast rope to Dean and entered 'Dante's Great Sword'?"
"You know, originally they weren't going to accept that kid with a Camus accent," the tavern owner chuckled, "but Quick Rope seems to have a friend who knows the old Dante family..."
"So, whether it's Quick Rope or Kanze..." Thales asked intentionally or unintentionally: "You also introduced Dean?"
Tampa shook his head.
"Dean was rescued by old Dante in the desert. This is how many people in their team came to be. Because of this, Dante's sword has remained intact for so many years, even after old Dante passed away."
Thales was thoughtful.
"He seems pretty smart, I mean Dean."
Tampa thinks so.
"To be honest, it's really unfair for a person like him to be a mercenary. With his talent and knowledge, he is no worse than those fat-bellied noble commanders in the army. In just a few years, Dante's sword
Earned a good reputation."
Thales's heart moved.
"You seem to know these mercenaries very well?"
"After all, this is 'my home'," Tampa said quite proudly: "Mercenaries will come here to look for business, or businesses will come here to look for mercenaries."
Thales looked around, looking at the fierce guests, wondering about something.
At this moment, several armed figures walked into the noisy tavern.
Tampa's eyebrows rose.
"Dear Ricky!"
The boss happily extended his hand to the oncoming customer: "How long has it been since you came?"
"It's only been a few months." The mercenary named Ricky said calmly, reaching out and shaking hands with Tampa.
Tampa looked at Ricky with a smile, and then at a middle-aged man carrying a sword beside him: "New face?"
"This is Clay, from the north. A good swordsman is not ordinary." Ricky pointed casually, and the middle-aged man nodded slightly to Tampa in a friendly manner: "Don't worry too much, he is already one of ours.
No private work."
"What a pity," Tampa shrugged regretfully: "You know, there are several businesses that are in need of good swordsmen."
Thales withdrew his gaze from the middle-aged man, and the hell sense that had been enhanced since the battle in the wasteland fed him rare information: there was a strange and restless power surging in the middle-aged man's body.
Looking at these new mercenaries, Thales' eyebrows suddenly jumped.
To the left of Ricky, a man with his face covered was looking at the prince coldly. There were deep wrinkles between his eyebrows, and he looked a little older.
His eyes passed over the Time Crossbow beside Thales and narrowed slightly.
Thales was shocked.
"As for this guy, you'd better not know about it. He just came to the camp, but he has a criminal record and is not clean." Ricky sighed and shook his shoulders to the masked man on the left: "It's not convenient to show his face.
.”
Finally, the masked man slowly withdrew his gaze, and Thales felt an unforgettable chill from his body.
these people……
very dangerous.
Thales suppressed the uneasiness in his heart.
"Of course, I only care about my business," Tampa raised his eyebrows indifferently: "How many tables do you want? Talking about business or looking for a girl?"
Ricky shook his head.
"Actually, there aren't even enough tables." Ricky took out a money bag from his belt and first directed others to occupy the tables. Only the middle-aged man and the masked man remained behind him: "We're booking the venue tonight.
,Tampa, give you two hours, clear this place including your guys, leave nothing but wine and food."
Tampa's brows furrowed.
"But curfew is in three hours."
Ricky smiled slightly: "Then we will drink until dawn and not go out until the ban is lifted the next day."
Tampa squinted at him.
"Impossible," the boss shook his head decisively: "You know, I still have to do business, and I have to deliver supplies to the bones the next morning..."
Ricky put the money bag on the bar, still smiling.
"Twenty gold coins, one night, you know, there are dozens of us."
Tampa's expression paused.
"This is 'my home'," he raised his head and became serious: "We have principles..."
"So we gave you a two-hour grace period," Ricky still looked easy to talk to, but he didn't give in:
"Thirty gold coins we need your place to talk something."
Tampa glanced at the money bag and shrugged: "We also have to close for a rest, there is no way we can stay open so late for you..."
The middle-aged man behind Ricky smiled.
"But your sign says 'never close'."
Tampa looked at him.
"You know, through the ages, if the words written on the slogans are true..."
The tavern owner raised his finger: "Then it won't have a slogan written on it."
The middle-aged man raised his eyebrows: "That makes sense."
As if he couldn't stand their gossip, the man with his face covered took a clean step forward, took out a money bag again, and threw it on the bar.
"Fifty gold coins, no more."
Snapped!
Tampa snapped his fingers hard.
"Deal!" He put the money bag away.
Thales on the side sighed and rolled his eyes.
I knew it.
Ricky shook his head and reluctantly led his companion towards one of the wooden tables.
"Why, what big business did you take on?"
Tampa, who had just negotiated a good ticket price, looked at Ricky's back with a smile on his face: "Want to have a party all night?"
"On the contrary," Ricky said without looking back: "After tonight, we will leave the Saber Fang camp. You have also seen that the Star People's troops are being sent into the desert as if they are free of money. There is no business here.
"
Tampa retracted behind the bar and shook his head regretfully: "Really, it's really bad news, both for you and for me."
Thales looked at their backs and asked doubtfully: "Are they..."
"It's the 'Blood Whistle,'" before he could finish asking, Tampa said leisurely:
"Like Dante's great sword, they are also mercenaries, but you'd better not provoke them. It's a hundred-man regiment, with two to three hundred people from top to bottom. There are hundreds of warriors who can go to the battlefield fully armed.
, they are not peasant soldiers, each of them is a professional killer just like Dante's sword."
"They only accept war jobs or chartered business from royal merchants. Even the barons look down upon them."
"Blood whistle, Hundreds of Men?"
Thales was startled. Looking at the people honking the blood whistle, he somewhat understood where the astonishing murderous aura and sense of threat came from.
"From Dante's sword to the blood whistle, the reason why they all gather here..." Thales said thoughtfully: "So, this place around the desert is really a paradise for mercenaries?"
"Heaven?"
Tampa paused slightly.
"It was."
"Almost twenty or thirty years ago, when I was a young fool and had no arrows in my knees," the boss sighed: "That was the golden age of mercenaries. The armies of the stars stayed on their own, and the desert tribes had their own
Principles, an endless stream of businessmen, adventurers looking for treasures, savvy bounty hunters, and priests who work hard to preach, everyone is looking for opportunities here."
"And now?"
Tampa shook his head: "As smart as Dante's sword, he suffered heavy losses, and as strong as Blood's whistle, he also found another way out."
"Times are changing," Thales said silently, "So is the world."
"Yes, twenty or thirty years ago, the armies of the stars could not march into the depths of the desert." Tampa's eyes showed yearning and nostalgia: "This is the privilege of adventurers and mercenaries. They set out impassionedly to survive.
Come back and tell the legend, or wait for the minstrels to compose poems and sing them everywhere."
"I still remember that at that time, there used to be a very powerful mercenary team around the desert, from the Blade Fang Camp to the Three Kingdoms of the Lost Sea, from Laivol State to the City of Steel, from the Dragon Kiss Land to the Thorn Land, no matter
Be it desert or forest, inner lake or river, their footprints are all over these mercenary paradises, and I once wanted to join them."
"Is it."
Thales was absent-minded: he saw Dante's swords coming down from upstairs.
"That mercenary...what's his name?"
Tampa was immersed in his own world and sighed: "Speaking of names, hey, they only had nine people at first, so they gave the team a silly and stupid name..."