Trouble

The serving girls quickly prepared food and drink for the distinguished guests in the "private seating area"—four large jars of ale, a plate of stewed salted fish, a big pot of apple-and-mutton stew, two loaves of bread, several dishes of onion pickled cabbage, and a platter of fragrant roast pork chops.

Perhaps the Red Mill at the Wool Market had acquired plenty of cheap ingredients today. Normally, this table of food and drink would have cost at least eight or nine pence.

Once everything had been laid out, Halfpenny attentively bent over to pour ale into the large wooden cup before Roger. Her eyes kept drifting toward Roger's crotch, and she did not even notice the foam spilling over the rim.

Roger felt the serving girl's breasts nearly pressing against his shoulder and could not help tapping the table to remind her.

Realizing she had lost her composure, Halfpenny hurriedly straightened up with a shy look, set down the earthenware jug, and left.

The bald man had barely chewed half an onion before scooping up a chunk of mutton and stuffing it into his mouth. With a lewd smirk, he muttered, "That girl must be... must be missing the huge thing in Young Master Roger's pants."

The other thugs at the table had their mouths full as well, and they all snickered.

Roger shuddered, then raised his cup and clinked it with theirs.

As they feasted, several heavy thuds rang out from the wooden stairs overhead.

"Which bastards were making such a racket just now and ruining my pleasure?" A booming voice shook the entire hall. Everyone's attention turned to the burly man at the stairway. He descended while putting on his armor, while the prostitute behind him sobbed softly, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and fresh bruises on her face.

The man was powerfully built. A horrifying scar ran from his left forehead to the tip of his nose, twisting the entire left side of his face. Together with the rune markings on his face, he looked even more terrifying.

High summer had arrived, yet the man was dressed head to toe in black—tall black leather riding boots, coarse black trousers and a black coat, sleeveless black leather armor, and a heavy black wool cloak. An unfastened belt held a Viking hand axe and a black-sheathed dagger. Clearly, he had worn this outfit from last winter all the way into this summer.

His name was Ulf, a descendant of Vikings on Allen Island. He had once followed the Baron of Allen Island in the sea trade, but after the English blockaded northern maritime trade, the island's merchants went bankrupt one after another. This man then inherited his ancestors' calling, gathered a band of brutes, and returned to piracy, calling himself Ulf the "Sea Wolf."

At first, they often sailed south to raid the English-controlled southern coast, plundering English ships. Calling themselves chivalrous outlaws, they put on quite a show of bravery for a time.

But as the English coastal defenses tightened and they suffered defeat after defeat, the pirates, who bullied the weak and feared the strong, could only turn their attention to ships from their own kingdom. Gradually, they became true pirates.

In recent years, with fewer merchant ships in the western seas, they had also taken up banditry on land. They often sailed in to loot coastal villages, and even fishing villages along Allen Island's shores suffered their harassment. Their reputation grew fouler by the day.

Many coastal lords, including the Baron of Allen Island, had issued warrants for this notorious bandit chief.

Calling him a notorious bandit chief was perhaps an exaggeration. Under his command, he had only one modified small kirk ship and seventeen or eighteen pirate lackeys. Among them were merely three to five hardened criminals and a few wanted hooligans and habitual thieves; the rest were mostly bankrupt fishermen dragged into it.

Recently, the Baron of Allen Island had led his troops to sea to fight the English. Taking advantage of the island being poorly defended, Ulf returned to Allen Island with his dozen or so lackeys and brazenly moored his pirate ship at a headland near Luo Ke Lanzha in the north.

Luo Ke Lanzha village in the north of the island was a gathering place for Viking descendants and had always been somewhat estranged from the islanders in the south. Ulf had originally been a villager of Luo Ke Lanzha, and several of his men had old friends and relatives there, so no one reported him.

But what surprised everyone was that he actually dared to come to Brodick town in broad daylight to seek pleasure.

Roger did not yet know that this man was Ulf, but seeing everyone in the hall lower their heads and shrink their necks, he knew the man was no good.

As the burly man stood at the stairway and surveyed the room, two lackeys who had heard the commotion also ran down from the second floor. Judging by their appearance, they had just climbed off prostitutes.

"Which bastards were they? Get out here and kneel before me, begging for mercy." The burly man twisted his ugly face again and barked.

Everyone in the hall turned their eyes toward the private seating area.

In the private seating area, the three thugs had all frozen—Missing-Tooth Gray Rat did not dare swallow the half-eaten bread in his mouth; Ponytail was quietly undoing the short braid at the back of his head that proclaimed his "Viking bloodline"; and the bald man had nearly buried his head beneath the table, exposing a large patch of mottled baldness.

Only Roger calmly held his short-dagger-like table knife, cutting the roast pork chop on his plate before lifting a piece to his mouth and biting down.

The burly man did not notice Roger. He recognized Ponytail first from the edge of the wooden table, strolled over to him, and kicked him onto the floor. "I heard you bastard still dare call yourself a Viking descendant on this island?"

"You bragged that you can fight. Come on, get up and fight me."

Ponytail lay on the floor with his head tilted to one side, saying nothing.

The burly man spat a wad of phlegm into his face, then walked behind the bald man and slapped him. The blow sent the bald man staggering, his head striking the tabletop before bouncing back up.

"Green Toad, didn't my men beat the fear into you last time? Your hair hasn't even grown back in, yet you dare show your face and swagger around again?" As he spoke, he fiercely slapped him again. A sharp crack rang out from the green-clad bald man's face, and half his cheek immediately swelled.

The burly man raised his hand to strike again, but Roger slapped the wooden table. "Stop!"

Drawn by the not-so-loud sound, the burly man looked up and saw a narrow-eyed young man in his twenties glaring at him.

"What asshole did this maggot crawl out of?" the burly man cursed, stepping around the green-clad bald man and heading toward Roger.

"Oh, carrying a knife too?" The burly man bent down, snatched the hunting knife from Roger's waist, and scraped it beneath his chin. "Not bad. Sharp enough. Just right for shaving me."

Roger slowly rose from the bench, his eyes fixed fiercely on the burly man.

"Ulf, don't cause trouble here. He is Young Master Roger of Sir Colin's family." Madam Kate's voice rang out. At some point, she had appeared at the stairway, and there was not the slightest trace of a courtesan's air in her tone.

"Let them go. Today's drinks are on me," Madam Kate said again, trying to mediate.

Hearing Madam Kate call the burly man Ulf, Roger recalled his identity as well. The bald man had told him plenty about Allen Island lately, and pirates like this were naturally well-known figures.

The burly man had originally intended to give Madam Kate some face and spare these little bastards, but then he suddenly remembered something. Turning around, he stared at Roger and asked, "You're Roger, the bastard from the Colin family?"

"Were you the one who humiliated the Gary Household's daughter last month?" The burly man's expression grew increasingly hostile.

"Do you know she's someone I had my eye on? I was waiting for her to ripen so I could have her, and you nearly got a taste first, you bastard." As he spoke, the burly man slapped the flat of the hunting knife against Roger's cheek, making sharp smacking sounds.