Ding bell ding bell!

With the crisp ringing of the bell, a drunk sailor rushed out of the tavern gate and staggered into Yacharin.

Yacharin took a step back in disgust.

The sailor spread his sleepy eyes and was sure that he was not hit by the big black and white dress, so he began to lift his sleeves: "Don't you have eyes?"

Yacharin twitched his belt helplessly and shines out the leather holster on his back.

The sailor immediately sobered up most of the time: "Yes... I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't you have eyes?"

"It's down from the bar, sorry! I'm sorry!"

"roll."

The sailor rolled cleanly, and Yacharin dusted his silk shirt and pushed open the wooden door of the tavern.

Ding bell ding bell!

Noisy, dim, and dirty, most port taverns around the world are carved out of chaos as its guests are sailors.

Yacharin rubbed the greasy floor with disgust and looked up at the scenery of the tavern.

The huge hall is about two hundred square meters, with vigorous fireplaces on both sides and round tables placed in a mess in the middle.

There were candles on the table, dark candlelight and orange fireplace fire were the only light sources in the hall, torn apart by shadows, and shadows were everywhere.

Those shadows are places where dirt is hidden. Some people gamble, some sell stolen goods, some sell information, and carefully observe, you can even hear the moans of prostitutes and the white movements.

The brightest part of the tavern is the bar.

There is a fireplace near one side, with rows of candles placed on the curved high cabinets, and there are high-legged round stools on the outside, mostly empty, with only a few, sitting alone.

Yacharin whistled, avoiding the red-faced drunks all the way, and sat at the bar with his belt in his arms.

"Come on Bledsoe, sir."

The sturdy tavern owner put down the huge barrel with a clang and punched the high cabinet. The sound of the jar was muffled and evil: "This is not that kind of sour and dirty thing. Only the country bumpkins in the New World and the French pigs opposite the strait will put their cocktails in the sacred wine glass!"

"Bakley is right!" The drunks in the hall roared, "To Barkley, this cup is free!"

"Long live the French piglet!"

"cheers!"

Gudu and toast to the audience. Yacharin heard two thumps and fell to the ground. Then someone fought against whom to pay for the order. He opened the market and decided to leave. From the boss to the customer, no one tried to stop the fight that happened in front of him.

Yacharin loosened his button awkwardly: "Boss, what do you have?"

"Malt fresh beer!" Barkley patted the half-human-high wooden barrel at his feet. "If you want something, we have bread, salted fish, bacon, leg meat and bran broth."

A shilling pops up in Yacharin: "You look at the arrangement."

"Francesica!"

Barkley shouted at the kitchen, and immediately a freckled aunt wearing a black and white maid outfit with a tiger back and bear waist came out.

Her arms were thicker than Yacharin, and she held a huge wooden wine glass and a wine barrel the size of a human head in one hand, and hit the high cabinet with two clangs.

Hurry!

She easily lifted the cover of the wooden barrel, poured a full glass of malt beer, and pushed it casually.

The wooden cup slid along the bar to Yacharin and stopped. Francesica shouted: "The wine is coming!" Then there were four clangs.

The bread was so hard that it was chubby and had mold spots; the salted fish was smelly, and the oil and salt were sticky; the bacon and legs were burnt, and the wheat bran broth looked fragrant. Yacharin tried to take a sip, but a shocking murder case was savored from the taste...

The salt seller was beaten to death!

He thanked Francesica with great effort and dignity, and tried his best to keep his eyes from paying attention to the long slide on the bar, mixed with ash and juice, and began to taste the wine.

Thank God, malt beer is really for people to drink, not to poison anyone!

He drank in small mouthfuls, his hands and feet had nowhere to rest. After waiting for a while, a brunette man with a big beard sat next to him.

"Bakley, fresh beer." The man shouted at the bar.

Barkley stared at him for a while, gritted his teeth and said, "Amman, Southampton does not welcome Frenchmen during this period!"

"War is the business of those rich merchants, isn't it?" Amman didn't care and took out three pennies from his pocket and lined them up on the high cabinet.

Barkley angrily put away the penny and said viciously: "For the sake of the old customer, get out of my pub after drinking. Otherwise, I don't guarantee that you can go out alive tonight."

"Drink a drink and leave, my old friend."

Francesca pushed a glass of fresh beer for Amman in a scheming manner, then dusted the dirty towel and ran to the hall to clean up the table. The bar counter became a lonely corner again. Even though it was bright, it still couldn't get any attention.

Amman took half a glass of fresh beer in one sip, took a breath, and suddenly said, "Former Admiral, I hope you have brought me a surprise. You have also seen that at this time, Southampton... does not welcome the French."

There was no change on Yacharin's face.

“The English are organizing a trap.”

"Um?"

"In two days, the family will receive information that the Drake Chamber will transport goods worth tens of thousands of pounds to Spain along the seams between the Celtic Sea and Cantabulian, which is a trap."

Yacharin held the wine glass in both hands, covering most of his face.

"The actual situation is that Lorraine Drake led an empty ship, seven Brigentina, which can attack and retreat and defend. The idiot Villen could not catch him. The real cargo fleet was 25 kilometers away from him at ten o'clock, which was the farthest distance for the Carac type lookout, and Brigentina could not see that far."

"this……"

"This batch of goods was booked by the Grand Duke of Victoria in the Basque region, including a batch of ancient Roman goldware and other luxury goods. English merchants dared not neglect, so they set up this trap. Their purpose was to lead the Villan away, which could not only leave the Cantabrian route to deliver goods, but also set up ambush in the Celtic Sea to attack the family fleet, and win the few with one stroke."

Amman was sucking in air conditioner after hearing this: "Is your news...accurate?"

"I'm on the Butterfly! Didn't I know if Lorraine Drake's fleet carries goods?"

"This is the key to the problem." Amman looked at Yacharin, "Yacharin, you are now a seaman of the Drake Chamber of Commerce and a traitor to the family. Why do you want to betray the employer?"

"Employer? If it weren't for the fool Villan, I would have to work for the British?" Yacharin showed hatred on his face, "Do you know what contract I signed?"

"What contract?"

"A self-redemption contract! In two years, no matter how good I do or how good I perform, Lorraine Drake, a vampire, doesn't need to give me a penny. On his boat, I'm just a laughing stock, and even ordinary sailors can yell at me!"
Chapter completed!