There are several taverns in Bunas, but there is only one named Silver Fox. Strong and fierce mercenary thieves can be seen everywhere here, as well as some fishermen and ruffians with tattoos on their faces.
"You're a rare customer! Wes!" While wiping the glass in his hand, the bartender said as he opened the door and walked in. The man who seemed to be in good spirits said.
There was an unpleasant smell in the air, and the light from the gas lamps enveloped the entire tavern in a sickly halo.
"I've been a little busy lately. After all, you know, I've been teaching people." Pulling out a chair and sitting in front of the bar, Weiss sprinkled a few copper coins on the table: "Have a glass of ale!"
He didn't hide what he was doing recently, because he knew that the bartender opposite knew a lot of things.
Pour the ale into the cup and push it to Weiss. The bartender still smiled and did not greet anyone else. He said to Weiss as if showing off: "Of course, we are relatively well-informed here."
As he spoke, he placed the not-so-translucent cup on another cup that had been wiped, and picked up another cup from the other side and continued to wipe it: "There has been a bit too much noise in Tang Mo's weapons workshop recently. Big. I heard that he bought another large piece of land, and now it has been connected to the Vicious Forest..."
The pub is not big and not noisy. The vicious gangsters sitting in the surrounding seats seemed to be afraid of disturbing other untouchable guys, so they lowered their voices when speaking.
Most of the people who come here are looking for news. Some are bandits who want to know the news about the caravan, some are pirates who want to know the news about the fleet, and some are cuckold peons who want to know the news about their wives.
"We are recruiting people, building houses, and setting up a school..." The bartender smiled and looked at Weiss who took a sip of ale: "I heard that there are almost 300 children who go to school for free there. ?”
"He was quite generous. He was able to keep the mayor, the sheriff, and the tax collector silent about this matter. It cost a lot of money, right?" The bartender came closer, pressed his body on the bar, and stared at Wes, as if Is waiting for an answer.
"Maybe." Wes put down the wine glass and made an indifferent expression: "Who knows."
"You have never been so strict with your mouth. Last time, I asked you about Baron Stella's private life, and you told me without thinking." The bartender stood up straight and continued to look down at the bottle in his hand. Cup: "What? This time, are you really planning to work for that young man named Tang Mo?"
"That's right." Weiss grabbed the wine glass and shook it in front of his eyes, staring at the light yellow wine inside through the not-so-transparent glass, looking a little absent-minded.
"Congratulations first, it's not easy to have a master worth working for these days." The bartender put down the wine glass he had been wiping for a long time, rested his elbows on the bar, and looked at Wes with his chin raised: "What did he give you? "
"Who?" Wes sipped the ale with great interest and asked knowingly.
The bartender didn't even pause and said the name directly: "Tang Mo."
"My boss? The things he gives are not cheap." From the corner of his eye, Wes caught sight of the two "Ranger Killer" revolvers hanging on his waist and said while playing with the wine glass.
However, the bartender's face showed a joking expression at this moment. He looked at Wes playfully, teasingly and casually mentioned a few words that made Wes frown: "Hmm... you can imagine. I heard... there's a kind Something called a steam engine? There are also some guns...different guns..."
"You really like to inquire..." Wes's face became a little gloomy. He put down the glass in his hand, lowered his face, stared at the bartender through the edge of his upper eyelids, and said softly: "Let's get down to business. Well, I came here to do two things."
"I hate it when you talk to me in this tone." The bartender stopped wiping the glass, placed his hands where Wes couldn't see, and said with a warning tone.
However, it is a pity that Weiss ignored his threats at all and continued to talk to himself: "First, get those stupid subordinates of yours out of my boss's workshop, and then, including yourself Inside, forget about this...all about my boss."
As he spoke, he put his hand under the bar and pressed it on his waist, on the handle of a revolver.
This was the source of his confidence. As long as he touched the smooth grip that perfectly fit the shape of his hand, he felt a heroic feeling of being in control of the overall situation.
"Okay, I'm starting to suspect that you don't want to leave this crappy place of mine today." The bartender spoke unkindly and raised his voice. Behind Wes, several strong men standing at the door also stood up straight and looked. To his side.
Weiss had no intention of giving in. He now had two revolvers on his waist, each containing 6 bullets, enough to knock everyone here to the ground.
So, without looking back, he stared at the bartender and continued: "Second, tell me about Sirik's Beiling Iron Works..."
"Ha, it seems you don't even want your life anymore." The expression on the bartender's face became very exciting. He looked at Weiss as if he were meeting the ranger in front of him for the first time.
The Wes in front of him really didn't look like the man he knew. That man used to be a ranger who only ran for gold coins, but the man in front of him asked about the Cyric Consortium.
If a person inquires about the Cyric Consortium, he either doesn't want to live anymore, or he is completely crazy.
Wes glanced back at the strong men who wanted to surround him, then looked at the bartender, smiled, and deliberately concealed it: "Who said I don't want to die? I just want to know where to buy it. To more steel.”
The bartender sneered, winked at a few strong men who were walking towards Weiss, then took out his hands from under the counter and spread them helplessly: "You can't buy it anywhere, because Cyric spent half a year ago. He spent a lot of money and bought all the steel. The Earl may have some left, but definitely not much."
Wes changed the position of the hand on the gun handle, took out a handful of money from his pocket, and lined up on the bar in front of the bartender.
It was a row of golden coins, some old and some still new. Weiss lined up the gold coins one on top of the other and gently brushed them with his fingers: "There are 10 gold coins here. If you are willing to think about it with your little head, how can you think about it?" It would be great to earn more gold coins from me..."
"You're crazy, Wes." The bartender frowned, once again being aroused by Wes.
"Maybe." Wes tilted his head and lowered his eyes as if reflecting on himself. Then he suddenly raised his head and looked at the bartender, and asked naturally: "Crazy people can do anything, right?"
"..." The bartender didn't speak. He just looked at Wes, as if he was weighing something.
After a long while, he finally spoke and compromised: "I will let my people shut up and keep these secrets for your boss, but... now! I am very interested in someone who can make you so dedicated and risk your life for him... …”
He stretched out his hand, pressed it on the gold coins, stared at Wes and said, "Can you arrange it? I want to see him."
"That's no problem." Wes nodded and pushed the empty glass in front of the bartender: "I will give you the news as soon as possible."
The bartender nodded, accepting what Weiss said: "I will make my people be stricter."
"A good start, isn't it?" Wes said with a smile on his face.
Then, he heard the bartender muttering as if to himself: "The Cyric Consortium has purchased a large amount of metal from Beiling in the past six months. Their intention is very obvious, which is to empty out Earl Fisherow's family fortune and let the There’s more certainty about what they’re going to do next.”
As he spoke, he unscrewed the cap of the ale bottle and poured Wes another glass. Then he capped the bottle and pushed the cup back in front of Wes.
"I heard that Cyric's steel was recently robbed, and even the person who did it has not been found. Isn't it you?" As if Wes was not in front of him at all, the bartender continued to wipe up after setting everything up. Cup: "They have become very careful because of this. It will take time to get the exact information... and there is no way for us to ensure that we will get the information."
"You can just go talk to my boss with the news, I don't care." Wes picked up the wine glass and asked in a lowered voice.
The bartender didn't even look at him, but replied without any hesitation: "Okay, I will try my best to find relevant information. You have to bring some greeting gifts, right?"
"Thanks." Wes took a sip of wine and glanced at the bartender.
"Hmph! No need to thank me! I didn't say anything!" The bartender snorted and corrected Weiss.
"Maybe, but I hope you can have a pleasant chat with my boss." Wes shrugged cynically and assured the bartender seriously.
"Okay, I still insist that I know nothing and said nothing." The bartender didn't care about anything else. He stretched out his hand and pushed the ten gold coins back in front of Wes: "Take your dirty money and get out of here." Bar."
"Here's to you!" After drinking the remaining drink in one gulp, Wes picked up the empty glass and toasted the bartender. Then he smashed the glass on the wooden bar table and made a bang: "Wait for my news!"
"No!" The bartender took the empty wine glass and continued to wipe it with the rag in his hand.
Wes walked to the door, holding the gun on his waist like a western cowboy, and looked at the strong men who had just tried to surround him. His mere glance sent shivers down the backs of several burly thugs.
"What are you looking at! You only have two guns! There are seven of us!" A bald man stared at Weiss fiercely, not wanting to lose his momentum.
"Pfft... Hahahaha." Wes couldn't hold back his laughter, and then he seemed to be looking at a fool, while looking at the bald head, he pushed the door open in a mighty manner.
