Toe Rum

Richard looked at the tavern owner with interest. The man appeared to be in his forties, with a round, bulging belly and a short stature, like a squat oak ale barrel. But the fleshiness of his face, his thick arms, and the heavy calluses on his palms all showed that he was not someone to be trifled with.

At the moment, he wore a somewhat yellowed white shirt and long hemp-yellow trousers. He stood calmly behind the counter, wiping glasses. The sharp, capable air about him was hard to ignore, inevitably bringing to mind figures like "a murderous bandit who had washed his hands of his past." Clearly, that was why he could keep people in line.

Richard walked over to the counter. The tavern owner raised his head and glanced at him, speaking in a somewhat lazy tone. "You two guests are from out of town, aren't you?"

"Why do you say that?" Richard asked.

"Because the boots you're wearing obviously aren't made locally. It's damp here all year round, so the soles are usually higher, while yours are quite shallow," the tavern owner said.

Before Richard could react, Bobobo Wei Qi beside him could not help turning to look at the feet of the other diners in the tavern. After discovering that it was indeed true, he looked at the tavern owner with a somewhat admiring expression.

There was no pride on the tavern owner's face. His expression remained unchanged as he said, "Since you two are from elsewhere, you may not be used to some of our local specialties. I'd recommend some more common dishes, such as milk mushroom soup, pan-fried veal steak, or white bread with jam."

"Thank you for your kindness, but we'd still like to order some specialties," Richard said. "Please note this down: