Iron Powder and Spellcasters

  With just a glance, Girard saw that among the two old and young people who wanted to set up a table, the tall middle-aged man with a dull expression and the half-child who was looking around curiously was a father-son relationship.

  Because the old and the young have very different temperaments, but the nose and chin look like they were poured out of the same mold.

  As for the round-faced fat man who came up to ask questions, he should just be a fellow traveller.

   "What's wrong?" Girard readily responded to the request for a table: "Anyway, the two of us just made a table."

  Gillard, who is used to patting his forehead to make decisions, didn't realize that he hadn't consulted his tablemates until he picked up the hat on the empty stool.

   "What do you think?" Girard asked the blond man with some embarrassment.

  The blond man smiled tolerantly: "You don't mind, and I don't have any opinions."

   After finishing speaking, he stood up, changed to sit directly opposite Old Dusak, and gave half of the table to the three who wanted to share a table.

  However, he didn't even look at the new tablemate. He just nodded slightly as a greeting.

   The fat man with a round face thanked him repeatedly, and he dragged his father and son along to be seated.

   It was the first time in his life that the half-children set foot in a place belonging to adults, and he was still led by his own father. His excitement was beyond words, and he wished to put everything around him in his eyes. He sat down without thinking.

  The seemingly dull father quietly paid attention to the old Dusak's cap and the blond mercenary's sword.

  Obviously, the half-child's father was not willing to take this table, but the two people in the company had already sat down, and he didn't make any trouble, so he sat down together.

  However, the half-child's father never expected that the intuition of the old Dusak and the blond mercenary was far beyond ordinary people.

  Although they drank a lot of wine, they were still keenly aware that the former's gaze stayed on them for "too long".

  The left hand of the blond man rested subconsciously on the weight ball of the sword hilt.

   And Girard looked at the dull middle-aged man for a moment, and asked bluntly: "My brother, it seems that you have also worked as a job?"

  The father of half a child heard the sound, turned his head to meet the sight of old Dusak, but did not answer.

   "Good eyesight!" Fortunately, the round-faced fat man caught the words, and he instinctively approached, and asked affectionately, "How did you see that?"

   "Hey, in a few words, I can't explain clearly." Girard stroked his brown curly hair with silver threads, took a sip of wine, and pointed at the blond young man with his glass: "But he can understand."

  He pointed at the half-child's father again: "He can understand too."

  Girard blinked at the latter: "Am I right? Brother? It's like I don't wear earrings or hair. You can recognize me as Dusack."

  Although the father of half a child still cherishes his words like gold, he nodded his head, which is regarded as agreeing with the old Dusak's statement.

   "May I ask, who are you working under?" Girard asked again.

  Yue, the middle-aged man who was a few years younger than Old Dusak did not answer, but asked Old Dusak back with puzzled eyes.

   "Just asking." Girard spread his hands kindly: "Maybe we still have a chance to have a drink."

  Although the dull middle-aged man was not very willing to speak, when the name was mentioned, he still puffed up his chest and replied solemnly: "Marshal Ned Smith."

  Girard was stunned, and the next moment, he laughed heartily: "Then we have to have a good drink."

  He immediately turned to greet the buddy: "Get some more glasses! Another bottle of good wine!"

  The round-faced fat man looked at his fellow countryman in amazement. Although he had known for a long time that the other party had made his fortune through military exploits, he had never heard the other party boast to others that he had served under a marshal—even once.

The round-faced fat man looked at the old drinker across the table again—big nose, wide mouth, carefree blue eyes, well-tailored but ill-fitting clothes—he looked like a rich man from the country .

  The round-faced fat man licked his lips, and asked cautiously: "Brother, according to what you said, you were once a subordinate of that...a marshal?"

   "'A marshal'?" Girard was a little displeased, and asked back with a bluff, "Aside from Marshal Ned Smith, which other marshal is there?"

   "No! No more! Just one! Just one Marshal!" The round-faced fat man shook his head like a pendulum, and asked with a smile, "Are you also a subordinate of Marshal Ned...Ned Smith?"

   "Subordinates? I can't talk about it." Girard smacked his lips and said flatly: "I'm just a big soldier who works hard."

  The round-faced fat man didn't mind at all, he asked expectantly: "Then...you are also here to attend the free men's meeting?"

"Otherwise, why would I come to this **** place?" Girard poured the rest of the wine down his throat, wiped his mouth, put the glass on the table heavily, and snorted softly: "Even the people who drink with you are so drunk!" Hard to find."

   "Here we come."

  Before the person arrived, a sticky voice came first.

  The charming tavern proprietress held the bottle and cup in her left arm, and held the plate high in her right hand. She tossed and turned between the back and the tables and chairs, and came to the table of several people step by step.

  She first put down the plate—half of the plate was filled with pickled vegetables, and the other half was placed with sliced ​​salty fat pork—then she put down the glass and wine bottle, and finally picked up the old Dussac’s upside-down glass and poured the wine with her own hands.

   "Don't be in such a hurry?" The hostess of the tavern gave old Dusac a coquettish look.

   Facing such powerful characters, Girard was also defeated.

  The round-faced fat man and the half-sized man at the other end of the table stared straight at the eyes.

"Ma'am." Girard coughed softly, took out the purse and handed it directly to the hostess of the tavern, and said: "Please pay attention, as long as the wine bottle on this table is empty, you can bring a new one." .”

   "Okay." The hostess deliberately drew a long tone, pointing to the appetizers on the plate, and said with a smile: "This is a gift."

   After finishing speaking, she took away the empty wine bottle and went to entertain other guests.

  Before leaving, he still gave the blond man a wink.

   This time, it was the turn of the round-faced fat man and the half-sized man, who took a moment to recover from the shock.

   "I can tell you how to live!" The round-faced fat man chuckled: "If we live in the place arranged by the blood wolf, can we see such scenery?"

  The half-child curled his lips, and asked his father in disbelief: "When you go out to do errands, it's all..."

   "No." The dull middle-aged man replied succinctly.

"Don't think about it, boy, this is a drinking place. The proprietress' trick is just a way to attract customers." Girard interjected with a smile. He looked around the overcrowded tavern and shrugged: "It works. , isn't it?"

  The half-child scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

  Gillard picked up the wine bottle and stood up. While pouring wine for other people at the same table, he teased the young man sitting across from him: "I'll buy the wine, and you get the appetizers. Now we're even."

  The blond man couldn't help but smiled wryly.

"Hi, I've had two bottles of wine and I haven't exchanged names yet." After pouring wine for everyone, Girard took the initiative to announce: "I'm Girard Pleinnovich Mitchell. Latour, I should be 'Mitchell Girard'."

"My name is Mikhail, and I'm in the timber business." The round-faced fat man also introduced himself, and then helped introduce his father and son: "This is Madia Milok, and this is Madia Rao you."

  Old Ma Jiya nodded, and little Ma Jiya also nodded shyly.

   "You can call me Siegfried." The blond man nodded.

   "Then, the first glass of wine." Girard raised his glass: "For Marshal Ned Smith."

   "For Marshal Ned Smith." Old Mathias toasted solemnly.

  Pony Majiya and fat lumber merchant Mikhail also followed suit.

  The blond man named Siegfried smiled, but didn't say anything.

Everyone who met by chance drank tonight's opening wine, and even Ma Jiya drank half a glass with his father's permission. Wine, is up for debate.

   After drinking a glass of wine, Girard immediately picked up a small pickle and put it in his mouth to chew.

  Little Ma Jiya followed the example of old Dusak, but was so sour that she trembled.

  While everyone else was fighting against the burning sensation that surged into the esophagus, Siegfried sitting at the corner of the table didn't seem to feel anything—because he didn't drink at all.

   "Ned of Tormes..." The blond swordsman stared at the reflection in the cup, and let out a long sigh, which contained three points of memory and seven points of regret.

   "Since you all worked under that man." Siegfried looked at old Dusack and old Matia, and asked seriously, "Can you tell me what kind of person Ned Smith is?"

  Girard and old Majiya looked at each other.

   "A brave man." Gillard replied: "Leading us to fight countless victories."

   "A kind person." Old Maziya replied: "Never seek personal gain for himself."

   "Braveness does not necessarily mean victory." Siegfried shook his head gently: "Kindness does not necessarily mean selflessness."

   Both Girard and old Majiya felt a little displeased with the young man in front of him condescendingly evaluating the old marshal's attitude.

"However, I can see how much you respect him from the bottom of your heart. A commander who can win the respect of the soldiers instead of fear is worthy of the first glass of wine." Siegfried sighed again: "Unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to face him in person..."

  He raised his glass and toasted alone: ​​"To Ned Smith, the greatest military strategist after the Duke of Arleans, the man who defeated the empire twice, the founder of the alliance, and the only marshal of the republics."

   After finishing speaking, Siegfried drank the wine in the glass in one gulp.

  Understanding little Ma Jiya, he thought that the handsome blond deskmate had made a wonderful toast, and applauded along with him.

  Old Maziya cast a puzzled look at old Dusak.

  Gillard was also a little embarrassed. He wanted to help explain, but he didn't know what to say.

   At this moment, a sudden loud voice sounded in everyone's ears.

  The lute player with an exaggerated hat left the scene at some point and came to the wine table where several people were sitting.

   "Siegfried! You bastard!" The piano player covered his heart and looked at his blond companion with an unbelievable expression, as if he had suffered a great betrayal: "You don't call me when you have a drink?"

  [Short tonight, so win tomorrow! ]

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