"Thinking of running? How could you possibly think you could escape so easily from me and my drinking money?"
The drunken mercenary sized up Ann, his eyes lingering on her figure as he swallowed hard, then said greedily, "But I'm not in such a hurry to drink. If you're willing to please me, I might consider handing you over to the mercenary captain in a few days."
The tavern matron, upon hearing this, trembled with anger and pointed at the mercenary, "You beast, she is the lord's daughter!"
"With a prefix, the dead lord," the mercenary licked his lips and stepped closer to Ann, saying slowly, "Come on, let me feel your breasts, feel your warmth."
As the menacing mercenary advanced with a malevolent chuckle, poised to strike, Ann braced herself to evade the impending threat. In that critical moment, Henry, who had maintained a stoic silence up until this point, unexpectedly sprang into action.
