Thales sat by the bar counter and stared at the Western Desert Old Beer in his hand. He felt gloomy for a while.
During this period of time, Quick Rope went in and out of the tavern while sweating profusely. He flipped through the account books, checked the numbers, and busied himself with the property left behind by Kant. Louisa, Dean, Mickey, and Dante's Greatswords also came to the tavern one by one. They went up to the second floor to have a meeting with Simon and Old Hammer.
"Wya, are you sure it's okay for you to sit here?"
Dean squeezed his way into the noisy tavern. Before he went upstairs, he cast a puzzled glance at Thales, who was sitting by the side in a huff.
"I'm sure." Thales pulled his face out of the glass and burped. He stared at Tampa on the other side of the bar counter with a hostile expression and gritted his teeth. "I'm very close with the tavern owner."
"That's good." Dean glanced at Tampa suspiciously. "Tampa is a rather reliable mercenary agent. He has a lot of connections. If you want to find your way home, maybe …"
Thales nodded stiffly.
Dean shrugged and went upstairs to attend the mercenary group's internal meeting.
Time passed. Soon, Blade Fangs Camp welcomed the night after Sunset.
People came and went in the tavern, and they toasted each other.
Quite a number of people noticed Thales sitting in the corner, but most of them were forced back by Tampa's gaze.
The bards smiled and sang to attract business, but they were also wary of the competition among their peers. Girls dressed in revealing clothes swayed between the tables, and occasionally used the cleavage on their chests to attract money. There were also people who hid their faces or acted mysteriously behind the tables. They danced and argued in low voices under the table. They were probably doing dirty deals that Thales did not want to know about and did not dare to know about.
Thales had seen Sunset Pub in the underground street before. It was often noisy with people coming and going, but everyone knew that it was the Brotherhood's territory. No matter how chaotic the scene was, not many people dared to cause trouble there.
But it was completely different in My Pub.
When Thales saw the customers at the third table fighting over a business that was not distributed evenly, he finally could not help but ask the owner, "Are you just going to watch?"
"What else?"
Behind the bar counter, Tampa waved his hand in a lackadaisical manner and signaled a waiter to clean up the mess and settle the bill.
"This is Blade Fangs Camp. It's filled with benefits, schemes, opportunities, and danger, while law and morality only appear occasionally. It would be strange if people don't fight." Tampa flipped open his ledger and quickly recorded something. "Don't worry, the people in Blade Fangs Camp are simple and honest. Didn't you see that they obediently paid for the damages after they destroyed the tables and chairs?"
The people were simple and honest …
Thales twitched his cheek.
"What if they don't pay?"
Tampa looked up, and the scar on his neck twitched.
"Everyone knows that I know quite a number of mercenaries and adventurers in the camp, and I often introduce business to them." The tavern owner smiled politely and said, "And there are quite a number of them who are professional debt collectors. For my sake, they only take ten percent of the profits, and they even take care of the aftermath."
Thales nodded slightly with a look of understanding. "So that's how it is. You really have many talented people here."
To hell with the simple customs of the people.
As he thought about his next move, Thales absent-mindedly asked the tavern owner, "So, Cohen deposited money here? Why? "
"This used to be a tradition. At the end of the Bloody Year, the soldiers who went to war would deposit their reward money at the rear, and they would come back to get it if they came back alive."
Tampa sat behind the bar counter with a satisfied look on his face. He watched his employees bustle about, and he looked as if it had nothing to do with him. "Later, to motivate the soldiers, Baron Williams promised that the victims would receive a deposit that was several times more than the amount they received. After the Battle of Elimination ended, I retired, and I took over this habit, hoping to make a business out of it."
"But for now …" Tampa sighed in resignation as he watched Quick Rope count the money in front of a merchant in the distance.
"Battle of … Elimination?" Thales asked, "Was it part of the Desert War?"
Tampa snorted softly.
"I guess you didn't see the Desert War ten years ago?"
Thales shrugged. "It's obvious."
Tampa nodded and put on an expression that said "I knew it". "Then, of course you didn't see the Battle of Elimination that lasted for a few years."
"What do you mean?"
Tampa narrowed his eyes and looked indifferently at a pair of customers who were drinking in the distance. He watched them put their arms around each other's shoulders and were as close as brothers before they started verbally abusing each other and punching each other. He seemed to be used to it.
"The great victory of the Desert War has always been bragged about in a boastful manner. The broken and tattered Constellation rallied its soldiers and bravery to bravely launch an expedition into the desert. They faced the Barren Bone tribe and the orc tribe who moved east en masse during the Bloody Year …"
He snorted coldly.
"But you know, for us, the most difficult thing is not how to defeat the mixed breeds and Barren Species. If you can repel them once, you can repel them countless times, but how to protect your spoils of war after you repel them. How to carry the military flag and the bragging that they left behind after the glorious victory when the main force returns to their villages with their children. How to clean up the enemies hidden deep in the sand dunes and caves bit by bit. How to use the few troops you have to defend the path, how to grit your teeth and fight back when the mixed breeds come back again and again, and how to face them head-on. How to make the tribes in the desert, especially the stubborn orcs, get used to your existence and revere your strength, just like how a rogue hyena gets used to the new territory of a lion king."
"This requires a process." Tampa's gaze slowly drifted into the distance. "During this process, there will be no pitched battles that will be recorded in the annals of history, no decisive battles where you will face death calmly, and no earth-shattering bloody battles … But the devastation and sacrifices will not be inferior in the slightest."
"Victory is forged with blood," he said faintly, "In order to consolidate the victory, you have to pay with more blood.
"This is the Purge Campaign."
Tampa pointed at the wall hanging behind the bar counter. There was an old but still sharp axe hanging there.
"Were you part of it too?" the prince asked solemnly, "Was it the Desert War or the Purge Campaign?"
Tampa nodded.
"At that time, Blade Fangs Camp was not like what you see now. The wounds of the Bloody Year had not healed, and the main forces of the Desert War had withdrawn. We did not have recruits who rushed over from all over the place as if they were free of charge. We did not have the private soldiers of the nobles who were dazzling with gold and silver. We did not have the logistics support from the merchants who followed the army and the royal family. We did not have an earth-shattering group of cavaliers, and we did not have the confidence and boldness to charge into the desert with just one command.
"We only had ourselves, the Constellatiates of the Western Desert. The army was formed by farmers, the commandos formed by mercenaries, and the suicide squads formed by scum … Even the main forces of the Duke of Western Desert, the Skull Guards from the Ruins, were so poor that they could not be compared. We, the Raven Guards, had more saddles than people who knew how to ride horses. Only the first row of the Black Lion Infantry Brigade was a battlefield veteran who had received complete training. The baron's Stardust Unit even had to replenish its manpower from the criminals in the Prison of Bones. After the Bloody Year, there were many nobles who were exiled due to their crimes.
"But we could only grit our teeth and go forward. With the scarce medicine and a small amount of supplies, we went deep into the barren sand dunes and searched every corner between Blade Fangs Camp and the depths of the desert. We fought to the death against the mixed breeds and Barren Breeds who came back in groups of twos and threes, regardless of the sacrifices we had to make, until they felt the pain and understood the price of returning to their homeland. They admitted the fact that they had lost, and they no longer dared to send people to their deaths."
Thales stared at the axe on the wall in a daze.
It was hard to imagine that the desert, which was ravaged by wind and sand, was once the most devastating battlefield he had ever fought.
"Among them, the stupid Cohen was considered an anomaly." Tampa laughed. "A noble who was so stupid that no one could bear to attack him."
"Cohen?" Thales was slightly shocked. "He fought in the desert? The Purge Campaign?
"Fought?"
Tampa snorted through his nose, and he seemed to find it rather funny.
"He was a fighter made of steel."
Tampa's eyes were filled with nostalgia.
"A tough man who was born for the battlefield. In three years, he made a bunch of orcs run amok, and they almost died."
"Why?" Thales asked in surprise.
"Cohen's identity … He was the heir of the noble Karabeyan Family. There was an entire Walla Hill waiting for him to inherit, wasn't there?"
"How would I know about the nobles who came and went?" Tampa laughed. "How would I know what was wrong with him? Why would he give up his good life and come to suffer?"
The image of the stupid man appeared in Thales' mind, and he sank into deep thought.
"You know, there was one time when we were ambushed."
Tampa seemed to be rather sentimental. "That gray mixed breed from the Dead Iron Tribe swung its chain hammer like a storm. Wherever it went, there were only severed limbs and pieces of flesh left behind. When it brought the mixed breeds down from all over the mountains and plains …"
Thales thought of the orc Kandarll and the almost unstoppable ambush at night. He instantly felt his heart palpitate.
"We were killed and scattered. We lost contact with the light cavaliers. We panicked and fled for our lives." Tampa sighed. "The stupid man and the others were forced into the inner area of the desert, and we didn't hear from them for half a month.
"We all thought that they wouldn't come back.
"The team even collected their belongings. According to Frank, the baron even had a headache about how to write the obituary for Cohen's noble father."
The tavern was still noisy, but Thales only listened attentively to Tampa's narration.
The boss let out a long sigh.
"Then one day … a dozing sentry outside the camp suddenly noticed that in the distance, on the horizon between the setting sun and the desert …
"A figure appeared."
Thales' eyes focused.
"He came alone, walked alone, swayed, and was covered in wounds."
Thales sucked in a slight breath. "Cohen?"
Tampa nodded slowly.
"All of us in Blade Fangs Camp, including Baron Williams' guards, stood there in a daze. We watched as the noble young master walked over in a daze. He limped, and in his hand, he held the ugly head of that damned gray mixed breed, the infamous killer, 'Meat Grinder' Xisa Undead Iron."
"Just like that, he walked into the camp in a daze and trembling. He couldn't even recognize the most beautiful woman, Felicia, when she stood in front of him.
"He just walked forward without stopping. His expression was dazed, and he mumbled to himself until he collapsed.
"The baron personally took Xisa Dead Iron's ugly head from Cohen's hands and tied it to the flagpole."
Time seemed to have stopped at that moment. Thales and Tampa fell silent.
Then, the boss grabbed a bottle of wine and took a big gulp from it.
"From that day onwards, no one in the camp called him 'young master' anymore, and no one secretly spat into his water bottle." Tampa put down the wine bottle, took a deep breath, and sighed. "From that day onwards, he became a 'big idiot'."
"The good warrior of Blade Fangs Camp, a real man, 'Big Blockhead' Cohen."
Thales did not speak for a long time.
He did not expect that the big man, who had a heartless smile on his face and seemed to have a lack of brains, had such a thrilling and passionate past.
"It's a good story." The prince nodded. "It's worth a song for the bards to sing."
Tampa snorted softly. Thales did not know if he was in a good mood or if his brain was damaged, but he actually took the initiative to bring a plate of food, put it between him and Thales, and started eating. "How is he now?"
'Now?'
In Thales' mind, he remembered Cohen, who swore in Bright Moon Temple six years ago that he would support him to fight his way back to Heroic Spirit Palace.
"As far as I know, he didn't go home. He's still a police officer in the capital, but I haven't seen him for a long time."
"The capital, huh …" Tampa muttered to himself.
"I know he's a noble, and nobles are very complicated and have a lot of things to do."
He shook his head.
"I guess that Big Blockhead also has his own responsibilities and worries."
Thales did not say anything.
In the end, the boss sighed slightly. "I hope he's still a real man, and still as stupid as ever."
Thales nodded and finished the slightly bitter beer in his cup.
"He will be." The prince flashed a powerful smile.
"And he will be stupid for the rest of his life."
Tampa stared at him for a long time, and in the end, he laughed as well.
"Yes, I hope so."
Thales coughed. "So, after the war, Cohen went to the capital, and you came to open this tavern?"
"No, I just took over … Do you see the slogan on the signboard at the door? 'My Home' has been open for two to three hundred years. "Tampa waved his hand.
"When you're tired of fighting … you know, an ordinary life is more attractive."
Thales snorted sarcastically.
"Ordinary lives?"
"Believe me, from my experience, and from the people I know," said the Prince sourly, "a fellow who can be an innkeeper in a place like this does not lead an 'ordinary little life'."
"Come on, I just gave you your 'first lesson'. Don't take it to heart." Tampa glanced at him in disdain. "You're acting like a girl. Are you sure you're not Quick Rope's girlfriend?"
"I just don't like people plotting against me …"
"Ha, I can tell from your face that you must have been cheated a lot since you were young."
Thales returned him a polite and fake smile and lowered his head to look at his food.
"By the way, are you going to stay here and not leave?"
Tampa frowned. "You know that you have to pay for this food, right?"
"I'm waiting for Dean and the others … Wait, pay?" Thales choked. "But you're the one who brought it here!"
"That's why I need you to pay. If you brought it here yourself, why would I need to charge you?"
Thales stared at the tavern owner, dumbfounded.
"One Mindis silver coin. Thank you for your patronage," Tampa said with a smile, "I'm giving you a discounted price for the sake of the dimwit."
After reluctantly handing over a few Shawlon silver coins, Thales took a big bite of his food with the feeling that it would be a waste if he did not eat it. He looked at the tavern that was slowly becoming quiet, frowned, and asked, "Is it my imagination, or are the customers really getting fewer and fewer?"
"Usually, the later it is, the more people there are in the tavern.
"But it's different recently. The composition of Blade Fangs Camp is complicated, and there's a curfew every night." Tampa yawned. "If you wander the streets during the curfew and get caught by the patrolling soldiers … You know, it's the first time many of the temporary recruits come to Blade Fangs Camp. They are in charge of defense when the regular soldiers of the royal family are not around. They don't know what it means to turn a blind eye to something. They can either spend money to get rid of trouble, or obediently go to jail."
Tampa shook his head. "Just last month, the famous mercenary group of one hundred men, Blood Whistle, had quite a number of them arrested. It's useless no matter what I say to them. Those new troops don't show any mercy at all."
Thales frowned. "So, you're quite reputable to be able to speak up for those who are in jail?"
"For many years, My Home has been providing supplies to the Prison of Bones. Of course, we have our own ways." Tampa snorted arrogantly. "Who do you think got that annoying Quick Rope out of prison?"
"Then you introduced Quick Rope to Dean and got him into Dante's Greatsword?"
"You know, they originally didn't want to take in that brat with a Camian accent." The tavern owner chuckled. "But Quick Rope seems to have a friend who knows Old Dante's family …"
"So, whether it's Quick Rope or Kant …" Thales asked, intentionally or not, "Dean was also introduced to them by you?"
Tampa shook his head.
"Dean was saved by Old Dante in the desert. Many of the people in their team came through this way. It's precisely because of this that Dante's Greatsword has not disintegrated after so many years, even after Old Dante passed away."
Thales was deep in thought.
"He seems to be very smart. I mean, Dean."
Tampa agreed with him deeply.
"Honestly, it's a waste of talent for a person like him to be a mercenary. With his talent and knowledge, if he were in the army, he wouldn't lose to those big-bellied noble commanders at all. In just a few short years, he made Dante's Greatsword gain a good reputation."
Thales thought of something.
"You seem to know these mercenaries very well?"
"After all, this is My Home." Tampa was rather pleased with himself. "Mercenaries will come here to look for business, or rather, business will come here to look for mercenaries."
Thales looked around and looked at the fierce customers. He was deep in thought.
At this moment, a few armored figures walked into the noisy tavern.
Tampa raised his eyebrows.
"My dear Ricky!"
The boss happily extended his hand to the customers who came up to him. "How long has it been since you last came?"
"It's only been a few months," the mercenary named Ricky said faintly and extended his hand to shake Tampa's.
Tampa looked at Ricky with a smile, then looked at a middle-aged man with a saber on his back beside him. "A new face?"
"This is Klein from the north. He's a good swordsman, and not just any good." Ricky pointed at him. The middle-aged man nodded slightly at Tampa in a friendly manner. "Don't think too much. He's already one of us. He doesn't take private jobs."
"What a pity." Tampa shrugged regretfully. "You know, there are a few businesses that lack good swordsmen."
Thales averted his gaze from the middle-aged man. His enhanced hell's senses after the battle in the Land of Barren Rocks gave him a rare piece of information: there was a strange and restless power surging in the middle-aged man's body.
As he looked at the new mercenaries, Thales suddenly raised his eyebrows.
To Ricky's left was a masked man who was staring at the prince coldly. The wrinkles between his brows were deeply furrowed, and he looked a little old.
His gaze swept past the Crossbow of Time beside Thales and he narrowed slightly.
Thales was shocked.
"As for this person, it's better if you don't know about him. He just came to the camp, but he has a criminal record, and he's not clean." Ricky sighed and shook his shoulder at the masked man on his left. "It's not convenient for him to show his face."
In the end, the masked man slowly averted his gaze. Thales felt a chill that was etched into his bones from his body.
'These people …
'Are dangerous.'
Thales suppressed the uneasiness in his heart.
"Of course, I only care about my business." Tampa raised his eyebrows nonchalantly. "How many tables do you want? To talk about business or look for girls? "
Ricky shook his head.
"Actually, a few tables won't be enough." Ricky took out a money pouch from his belt and first instructed the others to occupy a table, leaving only the middle-aged man and the masked man behind him. "We'll book the whole place tonight. Tampa, I'll give you two hours. Empty this place, including your men. Aside from wine and food, don't leave anything behind."
Tampa furrowed his brows.
"But there are still three hours before the curfew."
Ricky smiled faintly. "Then we'll drink until dawn. We won't go out. We'll leave when the curfew is lifted the next day."
Tampa narrowed his eyes at him.
"Impossible." The tavern owner shook his head firmly. "You know, I still have to do business. I still have to deliver supplies to Bones the next morning …"
Ricky put the money pouch on the bar counter. His smile remained.
"Twenty gold coins for one night. You have to know, we have dozens of people."
Tampa's expression froze.
"This is' my home '." He raised his head and became serious. "We have our principles …"
"So we gave you two hours." Ricky still looked like he was very easy to talk to, but he did not back down.
"Thirty gold coins. We need your place to talk about something."
Tampa glanced at the money pouch and shrugged. "We also need to close up and rest. It's impossible for us to stay open so late for you …"
The middle-aged man behind Ricky smiled.
"But the slogan on your sign is' Never close up '."
Tampa looked at him.
"You know, since ancient times, if the words written on slogans are true …"
The tavern owner raised his finger. "Then it won't be written on the sign."
The middle-aged man raised his eyebrows. "Makes sense."
As if he could not bear to watch them dawdle, the masked man took a clean step forward, took out another money pouch, and threw it on the bar counter.
"Fifty gold coins, no more."
* Slap! *
Tampa snapped his fingers fiercely.
"Deal!" He put away the money pouch.
Beside him, Thales sighed and rolled his eyes.
'I knew it.'
Ricky shook his head and walked towards one of the wooden tables with his companion in resignation.
"What's wrong? Did you get some big business?"
Tampa, who had just negotiated a good price for the entire place, looked at Ricky's back with a grin. "Are you going to party for a night?"
"On the contrary." Ricky did not even turn his head around. "After tonight, we will leave Blade Fangs Camp. You saw it yourself. The Constellatiate army is being sent to the desert like it's free. There's no business here."
Tampa shrank behind the bar counter and shook his head regretfully. "Is that so? That's really bad news, for both you and me."
Thales looked at their backs and asked in puzzlement, "They are …"
"They are Blood Whistle." Before he could finish his question, Tampa said slowly, "Like Dante's Greatsword, they are also mercenaries.
"Just like Dante's Greatsword, they are also mercenaries, but you'd better not provoke them. It's a group of a hundred people, and there are two to three hundred people from top to bottom. There are more than a hundred fully armed warriors on the battlefield alone. They are not peasant soldiers, each of them is like Dante's Greatsword, professional killers."
"They only take on jobs related to war or the business licensed by the royal family's merchants. Even the baron thinks highly of them."
"Blood Whistle, a group of one hundred men?"
Thales was shocked. He looked at the people from Blood Whistle, and he somewhat understood where that astonishing murderous aura and sense of threat came from.
"From Dante's Greatsword to Blood Whistle, they all gathered here …" Thales was deep in thought. "So, the area around the desert is indeed a mercenary's paradise?"
"Paradise?"
Tampa paused for a moment.
"It used to be."
The boss sighed and said, "About twenty to thirty years ago, when I was still a young fool, and I didn't even get shot in the knee. That was the golden age of mercenaries. Constellation's army behaved themselves, the tribes in the desert had their own principles, and there was an endless stream of merchants, adventurers looking for treasures, smart bounty hunters, and priests who worked hard to spread their religion. Everyone was looking for opportunities here.
"And now?"
Tampa shook his head. "Even someone as smart as Dante's Greatsword suffered heavy losses, and even someone as strong as Blood Whistle has to find another way out."
"Times are changing," Thales said quietly, "So is the world."
"Yes, twenty to thirty years ago, Constellation's army could not venture into the depths of the desert." There was yearning and nostalgia in Tampa's eyes. "This was the privilege of adventurers and mercenaries. They set out with great passion, and when they came back alive, they would tell stories about their legends, or wait for bards to compose poems and sing them to the world.
"I still remember that at that time, there was a very powerful mercenary group around the desert. They traveled from Blade Fangs Camp to the Three Kingdoms of the Mystery Sea, from Rewalbon to Steel City, from Dragon-Kissed Land to Thornland. Whether it was the desert, the forest, the lake, or the river, their footprints were all over these mercenary's paradises. I also once wanted to join them."
"Is that so?"
Thales was absent-minded. He saw Dante's Greatsword coming down from the upper floor.
"That mercenary … what's their name?"
Tampa was immersed in his own world and sighed. "Speaking of names, heh, they only had nine people in the beginning, so they gave the group a stupid and stupid name …"
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