Chapter 2: Cripple’s Tavern

North of Borelly, the mighty Sain River flowed silently. Thin sheets of ice bumped against each other on the river’s surface, which stretched over ten miles wide, making faint, brittle sounds. Along the riverbank, dozens of man-made piers stretched out like arms. This was the Dock District of northern Borelly, and it was the most chaotic part of the Borelly region, a place that made honest, law-abiding folks tremble with fear. It was a gathering place for all kinds of scoundrels and villains.

At the northernmost part of the Dock District, near where the Sain River met the Mana River, there stood an old tavern.

Up from the narrow, muddy road, past a few broken, worn steps, the tavern’s main entrance was two heavy stone slabs covered in peeling paint and greasy grime. On either side of the tavern door stood two large flower pots, each containing a few shriveled, dead saplings. On a branch of the left sapling hung a dead rat; on a branch of the right sapling hung the skeleton of a Poisonous Snake.

A dark, wooden board hung crookedly above the stone door. Only by straining one’s eyes could someone barely make out the messy words on the board – Cripple’s Tavern!

Passing through the stone slab door, there was a large flat area in front of the tavern. To the left of this area were two rows of stone buildings. At the moment, these buildings were filled with burly men sleeping sprawled in all directions. They might have been wandering sailors from the docks, dockworkers, guards for some warehouses, or they might have been tough guys from the Dock District making a living however they could. Deep snoring echoed in the spacious stone rooms, occasionally punctuated by someone talking in their sleep or letting out a rough, low laugh.

To the right of the flat area was a row of animal pens. Nearly a hundred cattle and horses stood quietly inside, chewing on the sparse, withered hay. Simple flatbed carts and Four-Wheel Carriages were parked messily near the pens. There were also a few carriages that looked plain but were actually made with fine materials and craftsmanship.

Directly ahead of the flat area, facing the main gate, was a three-story stone building. Dim lights flickered inside the stone building, making the structure seem even darker and gloomier. To the right of the stone building, a set of stone steps led downward. Going down these steps a few meters led to an underground tavern.

The three-story building above ground was the inn attached to this tavern. As long as you could pay, even a criminal wanted by the Empire could find a comfortable place to stay here. The underground tavern was the owner’s main place of business. Even late at night, it was still brightly lit and full of noise.

Walking down the stone steps and pushing open a heavy, old oak door, a wave of heat and the smell of alcohol hit the face, strong enough to knock a person over.

Behind the oak door was a huge bar large enough to hold hundreds of people. Against the west wall was a row of liquor cabinets. Several flamboyantly dressed women stood behind the cabinets, laughing boldly. A group of very drunk men leaned on the bar counter, flirting with the women just as boldly.

In the center of the tavern was a circular wooden stage. Three Young Girls in revealing clothes twisted their bodies vigorously on the stage. Dozens of men with flushed faces danced around the stage, shouting excitedly and stomping their powerful feet heavily on the rough stone floor, creating a unified, thunderous ‘smack, smack’ sound. Every so often, an excited man would pull a shiny Copper Coin from his pocket and toss it onto the stage. The three dancers would then twist their bodies even more wildly, their long hair flying around them, their crimson lips and shining eyes radiating boundless heat. Their youthful, fiery bodies trembled, making the men feel almost ready to burst with excitement.

Cripple stood in the corner behind the bar, holding a very large copper mug in one hand and a white cloth in the other. He was scrubbing the mug with all his might, his face scrunched up, polishing the inside and outside until it shone. He clenched a large, smuggled Cigar in his teeth, and faint gray smoke kept puffing from his mouth.

Cripple was the owner of Cripple’s Tavern. Very few people knew his real name; everyone called him Cripple. Just like his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and his even older ancestors, they were all called Cripple, and they were all the owners of Cripple’s Tavern.

On the wall behind the bar, a wall blackened by smoke and grime, hung a square portrait about two feet across. It depicted a huge, powerfully built man wearing a red head-scarf. His left hand was cut off at the wrist, replaced with a sharp iron hook. His right hand held a broadsword. His left leg was severed at the knee, fitted with a cast-iron prosthetic. This large man had a fierce face, and a colorful parrot stood on his head.

The person in the portrait was the first-generation owner of Cripple’s Tavern, Cripple’s ancestor from many generations past. Some people said the first owner of Cripple’s Tavern was a pirate leader who once roamed the three seas, but Cripple always told others – his ancestor came from a respectable, scholarly family.

The tavern suddenly erupted in a roar of laughter. At a long oak table in the corner of the tavern, a big man with a black beard, wearing a black tricorn hat with a thumb-sized white skull badge on the brim, suddenly laughed and stood up. He raised a mug that was easily the size of a man’s head.

“May old Old Jack rest in peace in Hell!”

Sitting around the oak table were over twenty brawny men with their chests bare. Each had rough, savage faces, and every one of them radiated a bone-deep sense of bloodthirstiness and ferocity. They grinned widely, roaring with laughter, raised their mugs, and cheered loudly in unison. They were outright scoundrels through and through; every hair on their bodies was branded with the word ‘scoundrel’.

Mugs clashed together, splashing pungent, cheap liquor all over the table. The big men drank heartily, boasting and bragging loudly about their gains from their recent ‘big job’. They flaunted and bragged without restraint, so everyone in the tavern knew they had just looted a sea vessel, killed everyone on board, and taken all the cargo as their plunder.

It was a very profitable big job. The only loss was their old partner, Old Jack, who unfortunately got stabbed in the gut.

Cripple heavily set his copper mug down on the shelf behind him and grabbed another mug to scrub vigorously. His own rough, fierce face showed a strange smile. He yelled out, “Welcome back, brave men! Welcome back, and thank you for remembering my lovely Cripple’s Tavern. Drink and eat your fill! I’ve prepared a batch of fiery girls for you, guaranteed to satisfy all your desires!”

The group of pirates sitting in the corner whistled excitedly. The other guests in the tavern also broke into loud chatter. The smells of alcohol and human bodies filled the air, making it even more stuffy and foul.

Cripple grinned broadly with excitement. These scoundrels who made a living on the sea—a large portion of their hard-earned gains always ended up in his hands in the end. He loved these strong but simple-minded guys to death. He absolutely adored them. It was precisely because of them that the wealth of Cripple’s Tavern kept growing.

Just then, a copper bell under the bar, near Cripple’s feet, gave a single ‘ding-dong’ ring.

Cripple paused and muttered quietly to himself, “Is that little brat here? What good stuff did he bring me this time?”

He put down the mug and the white cloth and stepped back into the shadows behind the bar.