Chapter 721 Ch720 Squid Butt (Add)

Chapter 721 Ch.720 Squid Butt (Added)

The life of Jerez was very monotonous.

Especially after the death of the horse-loving priest, there was less fun in his life - during the day, he spent some time praying to the gods who would never help the miserable people, walked around the church a few times, and repaired some places within his ability...

At noon, he sloppily filled his stomach.

At night, he went to the tavern and talked nonsense with the sailors and fishermen until midnight.

Every week, he gave some financial help to the women who had lost their husbands, and played with those bastard children for a while.

One week, one month, one year.

Like a solitary beast living among the crowd.

He repeated the dull and boring days like this.

In addition to the hair, the only thing that gradually increased was age.

If it weren't for Fernandez and his group, he could almost see his future.

Die of old age, or die of illness here.

——The probability of dying of illness is higher.

Because in the past few years, he either had knee pain or ankle pain.

The ritualists could not avoid it either.

Unless he can keep going up, to the place where people on earth look up to him.

This is more impossible than the beast fang becoming kind.

Jerez has already thought about it.

If Fernandez, or this kind, beautiful and somewhat outrageous gentleman, helps him, really applies for some subsidies or gets him to London - he will save money, send some back from time to time, and open a tavern privately with the rest...

Maybe he can find a gentle woman.

A widow is also fine.

He has small ambitions.

"Let's go, there are not many places that can make people happy, I will take you to see it."

The group chatted in the church for half an afternoon. In addition to exchanging cases in their executive careers, Fernandez also told Jerez the details of this mission -

He did not tell Jerez their real purpose.

First of all.

He is not qualified to know.

This is the filth between the church, the monarch and the party.

It can also be said that this is just one of the countless confrontations between the regime and theocracy - Fernandez does not want to harm Herez, and the less he knows, the better.

Secondly.

He has no real "use": this old lion is only a second ring. Not to mention Roland, I'm afraid that Cinder can knock him down if he is a little serious.

In other words.

Doesn't this meet the requirements of their mission?

Sending a person who can't protect the target to protect is also the best he can do.

When he returns to London, Fernandez plans to mention the story of Herez to Enid and help this "idiot"...

"Let's go! Go quickly! If it's late, you will stand!"

The lion hugged Roland's shoulders. After an afternoon of conversation, he also got to know these comrades a little:

Fernandez Devinson, a generous and rigorous captain, a kind and talkative Holy Flame.

Roland Collins.

The genius of the Tribunal, a handsome and promising young deputy.

It's just that there are some minor flaws on the road.

Not a crown god.

——But it’s nothing.

No one is perfect.

Next, Blade.

To be honest, some of the things this woman said made him blush. Fortunately, she was not the kind of lady who was asking “What’s the weather like?” that Jerez had seen before——As for Cinder Kratov…

Jerez “knew” her.

The famous Kratov.

From this point, we can see that this team is extraordinary.

Can Kratov join…

“Tavern?”

Roland was embraced, and he didn’t forget to pick up his cane: “Different from the city of London?”

“No, a tavern is a tavern. I mean, the local specialty, Collins,” Jerez said mysteriously: “There is a kind of wine here, it’s great!”

Fernandez and Blade’s eyes suddenly lit up, and they asked in unison:

“What kind of wine?”

Jerez was happy.

…………

……

There are many taverns in the port.

The one that Jerez often went to was called ‘Squid Butt’ – it was said that the discharge of water from a ship was very similar to the excretion of a squid, and it was also said that the excrement of a squid was mostly fish and shrimp debris, and this solidified translucent gelatinous substance was considered delicious by those who could not afford to eat…

In short, it was called Squid Butt.

When the group arrived, the tavern had already become lively.

The exterior of this pointed building was really unattractive, but the inside was a different world: a pair of whale ribs hung on the ceiling (or not, Roland could not figure it out), and a copper weather vane and a rusty ship bell were artificially decorated between the huge bones.

The faded dark green wall skin occasionally revealed blue bricks, and some were covered with posters, and were smoked to dark brown scorch marks.

There were advertisements for ships or certain companies on them.

There were also some posters that just devoutly painted those poor women who were naked – these devout painters were more popular.

The bar was circular, without any edges and corners.

There were dense marks on the wooden board: knife marks, grinding marks and pits. The wine racks on both sides and the back were full of bottles with or without labels, which made people especially eager to witness the scene of their dumping.

Heles pushed the door with ease and pulled aside the smoke-filled curtain.

He greeted a lame boy.

"Hey, Tom."

The wool-curled boy had an empty left leg, and he stepped on a not-so-delicate prosthesis, which made a thumping sound when he walked.

"Oh, you haven't been transferred yet, Helaier."

He laughed and laughed, holding five glasses of beer on one hand with one hand, and putting plates of large and small in the other hand: shrimps used to cheer up when drinking and chicken bones with little meat.

Jerez spread his hands and made a helpless expression, while little Tom whispered toward a place in the tavern:

"There are two more places, hurry up."

He glanced at the person behind Jerez, swallowed the joke he had always wanted to make back into his stomach, stepped on his wooden legs, and dodged and moved skillfully among the crowd.

‘Give it aside! Hey! Let let-take your empire ass back! ’

Roland was interesting to watch.

"He called you 'Hellaer'?"

Jerez led them in and replied casually, "There are all the names."

indeed.

When Roland protected Xiandel and fell into this airtight jar, many names whistled from his ears.

Many people know Jerez.

"Look! The dice king is here! Say your salute!"

"Herel, when will he be transferred?"

"Don't mention this...well I want to know too."

"Save enough money and buy a place to live! Herre! I think you can't live without it!"

"Give it back! The big guy is here!"

Jerez naturally answered this kind of kindness in an equally cordial tone - such as "Fuck you," "Get out," "Your wife is fishy"... and so on.

Anyway, they are all very friendly.

Roland followed him and squeezed for nearly five minutes before he reached the seat.

Aged ale, grease and oyster juice seeped into the floor, shaped like a kind of smooth patina. Between the foot and the foot lift, Roland always felt like he brought out a lot of sticky threads.

——And the wooden table, which is not wide, is only slightly less greasy than the floor.

As soon as he sat down, Jerez shouted at the top of his voice:

"Tom! Where is Tom?!"

Like passing messages, the names of "Tom" were passed one by one along the heads.

Soon, a young boy who was not called Tom came.

A little short, with a large piece of burn on the left face.

"Pickled? Don't you have a good place to go?"

Jerez shouted.

The boy called "pickled melon" also shouted:

"I don't want to do it. They say that the sea has not been peaceful recently."

"The sea will never be peaceful, I think you just don't have the courage." Someone was joking behind his back, laughing, and then talking about something else - there was no politeness in the tavern, this kind of communication form of words and words are shared by you. , also exists in cheaper taverns in London City.

The boy curled his lips, "I am just wiser and more wise than you."

Undoubtedly, this sentence caused more ridicule.

The mother of pickled melon is good at this, so he is called pickled melon-some say that because his mother often goes to the boat privately to "visit" for half a month-

A sailor once described it as a drunken pickle, saying it was like a 'flat pickle'...

That's why he has such a nickname.

Who knows?

Don't have the truth in the tavern.