Caesar followed Uncle York down the stairs and around the corner of the stairs he saw the gorgeous boss lady at the front desk again.
The boss lady who is counting is bent over the counter, from Caesar's angle can just see the her chest that a touch of white , and this boss's wife in the counting is filled with a kind of intellectual beauty, Caesar looked dumbfounded, and almost lost his footing and rolled down the stairs.
It was nearing evening, and the setting sun was coloring the sky with an orange-red light shining through the bar's curtains.
There weren't many soldiers still drinking in the bar, only a few left in threes and twos, except for Caesar and his squad who were still waiting for Caesar and York.
Uncle York came downstairs and first greeted the soldiers still at the bar "Boys, it's almost supper time, I'm going back to camp, don't be greedy."
The remaining soldiers at the bar, all responded respectfully before Uncle York turned back to Caesar and nodded, leaving first.
After sending Uncle York out of the bar, Caesar came back to look at his gang of men, all of whom were about his age or even younger than him, and much less drunk than he was.
Except for Tom and Jon, who were still alive and kicking, the rest of Yoder, Phil and the others were obviously drunk, with a flush on their faces, lying on the table muttering something.
There were only two or three empty glasses in front of each of them, almost as much as Caesar and York were drinking from a bottle upstairs. The wine they were drinking was a step below Caesar's though, just plain old chilled ale.
Of course, except for the first glasses, which was on Caesar, the rest should have come out of their own pockets.
"You guys, you can't hold your liquor and still so much to drink, you're sincerely giving me trouble, aren't you?" Caesar laughed and cursed at his men lying in the corner of the tavern.
In fact, usually they come to drink by themselves is the amount of a cup, broad time to drink two cups, today because Caesar and York talk a little longer time, they can not hold themselves and spend money to drink a cup or two, this time to drunk all of a sudden.
Drinking the guys also on their own enough righteous little captain even less constrained, for Caesar's laughter and scolding are lovingly, still a hard to lie there in a daze.
The two guys, Jon and Tom, were more than ready to force Caesar out of his seat and were going to order glass of wine more.
"Captain, what's the point of not drinking with the brethren yet today when you're treating us? Hurry up and sit down, let's drink." Jon said to Caesar.
"Don't talk about it, you see these guys can still drink? If they keep drinking, we won't make them back to camp tonight. Hurry up and pull them to sober up! Otherwise there will be no food later." Caesar hurriedly waved his hand, "It's my problem today, I've been talking for a long time, I've left you all hanging here, I'll treat you all to a drink some other day!"
With that said, Caesar's men know what they should do, and most of them stiffened and stood up, and Jon and Tom went to pull those who couldn't stand up, ready to leave.
By now it was getting dark, and there were no more soldiers drinking in the tavern, except for Caesar and the others in the corner.
At that moment, from outside the tavern entered a line of about 15 men, ragged, young and strong, supposedly the remaining residents of the town. Caesar surveyed them without moving.
This group of uninvited guests walked in aggressively, the leader of the middle-aged man was just about to say something, suddenly saw Caesar and the others in the corner, the standardized military clothing revealed Caesar's identity, the leader's face changed, hurriedly held back his words.
Apprehensively and in awe, he squinted at the group of soldiers. The line of men he had brought with him, who had been talking noisily with a sudden silence, also moved in a slightly restrained manner.
Caesar, who clearly had little interest in the sudden appearance of the town's poor, greeted his men and left.
Before he left, he went to the boss's wife at the counter to settle today's bill, 10 cups of regular ale cost 10 copper bucs, plus two bottles of higher quality ale also cost 10 copper bucs, adding up to a total of 20 copper bucs, which was a good deal.
Caesar pulled out his own money pouch, took twenty pieces out of it, and slapped them onto the front of the bar as soon as he could.
Caesar heard the sound of throats swallowing, from the ragged gang of paupers, and Caesar observed that they were afraid to look at their bags of money, but instead stared and swallowed at the money on the bar's front counter.
Twenty copper bucs was quite a lot of money here, this bar looked hot today with a total of thirty to forty people, however don't let that superficiality fool you, most of the people here were sitting around all afternoon, they weren't as fortunate as Caesar's men to have a captain who bought himself a drink, they came to spend it all on their own.
How much spare money can you expect from this group of mostly third class soldiers and servants? They usually only come for a drink, but on that one drink, they come here to brag and pass the time.
A normal day's profit for this bar was estimated to be just over thirty copper bucs, and even when business was bad, only twenty or so was possible.
In other words, the amount of money that Caesar auctioned off was almost close to the bar's turnover for a day.
The boss's wife first glanced with some trepidation at the middle-aged man who led a group of people in, and then she saw Caesar coming up to settle the bill, and she smiled fawningly at Caesar, saying to him that he was welcome to come back next time.
Caesar nodded, gave the slightly rushed group a look, and greeted his men as they walked out of the tavern.
However, just as he stepped out of the tavern, there was a faint sound of whispered curses with a strong Shiloh accent and if anything, the sound of a woman crying and begging.
Caesar glanced back, only to see four or five of the gang of paupers blocking the doorway to the tavern, preventing anyone from seeing inside. Caesar was stunned, he wanted to see what the gang was up to Caesar looked at these ragged Shiloh paupers blocking the doorway, these dark-faced lower class paupers with only skin and bones were actually blocking his view, although they didn't disrespect themselves, but they dared to block his view, Caesar was angry.
Unable to resist under Caesar's increasingly sharp gaze, the men guarding the door scowled and withdrew, revealing a crevice where they could see inside.
Only a slightly stronger Shiloh pauper in the tavern was grabbing a package from the tavern owner's wife, who was crying and saying something to the leading middle-aged man, but the middle-aged man was indifferent, and a few malnourished brats around him clutched a few Copper Bucs in their hands and counted them excitedly.
That's what he just paid for his drink, Caesar thought.
"What are you doing!" Caesar suddenly shouted in a cold voice.
The slightly noisy voices in the tavern suddenly fell silent.
Caesar's men outside the tavern, who had just not taken a few steps, also heard the unkind voice of the chief, and turned back and walked back.
Although they were drunk, but they are also soldiers, the first time to sober up quite a lot, followed the head of the gaze in, the heart to understand the general soldiers began to rub their fists up, this is to teach people the rhythm.
The voice of the beautiful owner's wife, who had been crying, stopped, and she looked at the officer of the Garrel Kingdom with a hint of manliness outside the tavern.
She knew Caesar, it was rumored to be a small and powerful officer who had come to drink with her a few times, and unlike the usual gruff, flower-filled general military man, this was an easy-going and well-groomed man.
The gorgeous boss's wife had a favorable impression of Caesar. Is he going to help me? The gorgeous boss lady, Chassie, suddenly longed in her heart.
"My lord, this is an internal matter of our Giza Town, do you have something to do?" Perhaps frightened by Caesar's cold voice, or the pressure from these surrounding soldiers of the Garrel Kingdom surrounding him was too great, that leading middle-aged man had to open his mouth to ask after being silent for a while.
Caesar narrowed his eyes and let out a grim gaze as he slowly walked into the tavern, his men following, a wail erupted as Jon and Tom gave one of the few paupers still guarding the door of the tavern a kick to get the hell out of their way.
Caesar walked up next to the Shiloh pauper at the front desk who was grabbing packages from the gorgeous boss's wife, Caesar's five-foot-seventy-five height giving the slightly hunched, malnourished guy who was only five-foot-seven no small amount of pressure.
His hand frozen with the boss's wife suddenly shivered and loosened, the package was instantly tugged open, "Wow", a piece of copper coins fell, estimated to be thirty, as well as a few pieces of slightly wider ladies' underwear and clothes, eh, it should be this charming boss's wife's.
"Pah," Caesar gave the guy who grabbed the boss's wife's package a resounding slap first, sending him rolling straight out of the room before slowly turning to look at this middle-aged man who led a group of Shiloh paupers.
"My lord, you ..." The middle-aged man wanted to say something else.
"Slap", another slap, Caesar didn't have a soft hand, but this middle-aged man still had a few strength left, and instead of rolling out like the one before, he got a few teeth pulled out by Caesar, bending over to cover his face.
As if these two slaps were a signal, the men under Caesar rolled up their sleeves and taught the gang in the tavern a vivid lesson.
Yoder kicked the youth next to him clutching a couple of Copperbucks down, and Tom lifted the two scrawny fellows like brown bears, his arms closing to bring them both into close contact.
Jon slaps furiously at the two tavern Shiloh paupers, from end to end, in a manner worthy of Caesar.
Even Phil, the kid, yanked a guy about his size and gave him a slap, and the rest of them followed suit, beating the rabble in the tavern for crying out loud.