British hegemon

Chapter 12 Getting into Trouble

The waitresses quickly prepared food and drinks for the VIPs in the "private seating area"—four large cans of ale, a plate of stewed salted fish, a large pot of stewed lamb with apples, two loaves of bread, several dishes of cabbage with onions and yogurt, plus a plate of fragrant roasted pork chops.

Perhaps the Wool Market and the Moulin Rouge had acquired a lot of cheap ingredients today; normally, this meal and drinks would have cost at least eight or nine pence.

With the food and drinks ready, the "half-penny" bowed obsequiously and poured beer into the large wooden cup in front of Roger, his eyes glancing at Roger's crotch from time to time, not even noticing the beer foam overflowing from the cup.

Roger felt the waitress's breasts were almost touching his shoulders, so he couldn't help but tap the table to remind her.

Realizing his rudeness, "Halfpenny" quickly got up, put down the pottery jar, and left, looking embarrassed.

The bald man had just chewed half an onion when he grabbed a piece of mutton and stuffed it into his mouth. He chuckled lewdly, "That girl must be... missing Young Master Roger's huge thing in his crotch."

Several thugs at the table, their mouths stuffed with food, chuckled in unison.

Roger shuddered, then raised his glass and clinked it with the others.

As the group was enjoying their meal, the wooden ladder above them made a few loud thuds.

"Which bastards were making such a racket and disturbing the master's mood?" A loud voice reverberated throughout the hall. Everyone was drawn to the burly man at the top of the stairs. The man was putting on his armor as he walked downstairs. Behind him, the prostitute was sobbing softly, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and fresh wounds on her face.

The burly man was imposing, with a horrifying scar running from his left forehead to the tip of his nose, distorting his entire left face. Combined with the talismans on his face, he looked even more frightening.

Summer had arrived, yet this fellow was dressed entirely in black—high black leather riding boots, coarse black trousers and a black coat, sleeveless black leather armor, a heavy black wool cloak, and a Viking short axe and a black-sheathed dagger hanging from his unfastened belt. Clearly, he had been wearing this outfit from last winter until this summer.

This man was named Wolf, a Viking descendant from the island of Arran. He originally made a living by trading with the Baron of Arran. After the English blockaded the trade in the Northland, many of the island's merchants went bankrupt. This guy inherited his ancestors' will, gathered a group of brutes and started doing piracy, calling himself "Sea Wolf" Wolf.

At first, they frequently went south to raid the southern coast controlled by the English, plundering English ships and calling themselves outlaws, and were quite valiant for a time.

But as the English strengthened their coastal defenses, these men suffered repeated defeats. The cowardly pirates, who had been bullying the weak, had no choice but to set their sights on the ships of their own kingdom, and gradually became true pirates.

In recent years, with fewer merchant ships in the western waters, this group has started to engage in land-based banditry, frequently raiding coastal villages by boat. Even fishing villages along the coast of Arun Island have been harassed by them, and their reputation has become increasingly tarnished.

Many coastal lords, including the Baron of Arron Island, issued warrants to capture this notorious bandit.

Despite being called a notorious bandit, he actually only had a modified small dinghy and seventeen or eighteen pirate henchmen under his command. Among the pirate henchmen, there were only three or five hardened criminals and a few wanted thugs and habitual thieves; the rest were mostly bankrupt fishermen who had been coerced into joining him.

Recently, the Baron of Arran Island led his army to sea to fight the English. Taking advantage of the island's vulnerability, he led a dozen or so men back to Arran Island and openly anchored his pirate ship on a promontory near Locklandza in the north.

The village of Locklanza in the north of the island is a gathering place for Viking descendants, and has always been somewhat isolated from the islanders in the south. Ulf was originally a villager of Locklanza, and some of his men had old friends in the village, so no one reported him.

But to everyone's surprise, this guy actually dared to go to Brodick town to have fun in broad daylight.

Roger didn't know that this man was Ulf, but judging from the way everyone in the hall was bowing their heads and shrinking back, he knew that this guy was no good.

As the burly man stood at the top of the stairs scanning the crowd, two henchmen who had heard the commotion ran down from the second floor. They looked like they had just climbed off the prostitute's belly.

"Which bastards are you? Step forward and kneel down to beg for mercy!" the burly man shouted again, his ugly face contorted in a stern voice.

Everyone in the hall turned their attention to the VIP seating area.

In the "private seating area," the three thugs were all petrified—the toothless gray rat dared not swallow the half-eaten bread in its mouth, the ponytail was quietly letting its short braid proclaiming its "Viking bloodline" loose, and the bald head was almost buried under the table, revealing large patches of baldness.

Roger, oblivious to everything else, gripped his dagger-like knife, cut the roasted pork chop on the plate, and then took a bite.

The burly man didn't even notice Roger. He first recognized the ponytail on the edge of the wooden table, walked over to the ponytail, kicked him over, and cursed, "I heard you bastard dare to call yourself a Viking descendant on the island?"

"You boast that you're a good fighter, come on, get up and fight me."

The girl with the ponytail on the ground tilted her head and remained silent.

The burly man spat a glob of phlegm in his face, then came up behind the bald man, raised his hand and slapped him, making the bald man stagger, his head hit the table and bounce up.

"Green toad, weren't you scared by my men last time? Your hair hasn't even grown back yet and you dare to show up again?" With that, he slapped him hard across the face again. There was a crisp sound on the green-clad bald man's face, and half of his cheek immediately swelled up.

The burly man raised his hand to strike again, but Roger slammed his hand on the wooden table. "Stop!"

The burly man was drawn by the not-too-loud sound and looked up to see a young man in his early twenties with narrow eyes staring at him.

"Which asshole has sprung up from yet?" the burly man cursed, walking past the green-clad bald man toward Roger.

"Oh, you even have a knife?" The burly man bent down and pulled the hunting knife from Roger's waist, then shaved his chin. "Not bad, sharp enough. Perfect for shaving the master."

Roger slowly stood up from the bench, his eyes fixed on the burly man.

"Wolf, don't cause trouble here. He is Sir Roger of the Colin family." Mrs. Kate's voice rang out. She had appeared at the top of the stairs at some point, and her tone was no longer tinged with the air of a courtesan.

"Let them go, I'll cover the cost of today's drinks," Mrs. Kate said again, trying to mediate.

When Roger heard Mrs. Kate address the burly man as Wolf, he remembered the man's identity. During this time, the bald man had told him a lot about the exploits of Arun Island, and such pirates were naturally public figures.

On the other side, the burly man had originally intended to give Mrs. Kate some face and spare these little bastards, but suddenly remembered something, turned around and stared at Roger, asking, "Are you Roger, the bastard from the Colin family?"

"Was it you who humiliated Gary's daughter last month?" The burly man's expression grew increasingly hostile.

"Do you know she's the one I've set my sights on? I'm just waiting for her to ripen and devour her, and you, you bastard, almost got to taste her first." The burly man said, slapping the back of his hunting knife against Roger's cheek with a loud slap.