In Gonda, there stood a brothel named "Red Velvet." Its name, like its sign, was vibrant and enticing, like a flame burning in the night.
Pushing open the heavy oak door, one was greeted by an odor mixed with cheap perfume, sweat, and alcohol.
In the dim candlelight, silk curtains mingled with the cheap smell of alcohol, and gold and silverware coexisted with old wooden tables.
Noble knights and street thugs blurred the lines here. The prostitutes, dressed in various colors of silk and gauze, moved through the crowd, their makeup glamorous and their figures enchanting.
Whispers flowed in the corners as knights flaunted their battle exploits, merchants secretly discussed smuggling, and spies exchanged information.
Men sat around wooden tables, gulping down ale, slapping the barely visible, shapely buttocks of passing prostitutes, laughing loudly, occasionally reaching out to embrace a prostitute, whispering a few words, and then disappearing with her into the shadows upstairs.
The proprietress of Red Velvet was named Margaret. She used to be a palace maid. Now past thirty, she still retained her charm, like a ripe peach, becoming more charming with age.
Her eyes were sharp and shrewd, as if she could see through the minds of every customer.
Red Velvet was not just a place for pleasure; it was more like a miniature kingdom, full of power, desire, and betrayal.
Here, everyone had their own purposes and secrets, and the purpose of Red Velvet's creation was to explore these secrets.
After all, no man could withstand the skills of a prostitute proficient in various techniques without revealing the deepest secrets of his heart.
As for the owner behind the scenes, she glanced at the direction of the palace without making a sound.
Margaret sat behind the wooden counter, holding a glass of rum in her hand, her eyes scanning the crowd, soon focusing on a small, thin old man, about five feet tall.
Sam sat at a table in the corner, holding a glass of the cheapest, low-quality ale, watching with great interest the prostitutes who shuttled through the crowd like butterflies among flowers.
It was the first time he had seen so many beautiful and enchanting prostitutes, like delicate flowers standing on the roadside, ready to be picked.
Everything made this country bumpkin from the wilderness feel extraordinarily novel, regretting only that he hadn't brought enough money to feast his eyes.
However, occasionally he would imitate others, reaching out and slapping the buttocks of a passing prostitute, immediately leaving a clear, dark palm print.
Faced with the prostitute's glare, he just grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth with two missing.
"A country bumpkin with no money."
Margaret quickly withdrew her gaze. Red Velvet encountered many such people every day.
They came in, ordered a glass of the lowest quality ale, and sat in the corner, their eyes wishing they could strip all the prostitutes naked, but the reality was that they could only suffer from an empty wallet and indulge in a little hand action.
However, Red Velvet's principle was to welcome both nobles and commoners, so she couldn't actively drive people out.
Suddenly, some quarreling came from the stairwell. It was a burly knight, accompanied by two attendants.
The knight shouted loudly, "I paid you double the money, why did you only let me enjoy a few dozen heartbeats of time!" His voice was loud, attracting the attention of the surrounding people.
The prostitute sneered and retorted sharply, "You paid for two times, but both times you only lasted ten heartbeats! Even a stray dog is better than you.
My time is precious, and I have to serve others. Unless you continue to pay, don't think about continuing to do me!" Her voice was sharp and harsh, with obvious sarcasm.
Obviously, this prostitute, because of the owner behind her, seemed fearless when she was in the right.
Although he was a shaman, a noble spellcaster, all his spells were used to strengthen himself.
The strong man in front of him was as burly as a black bear, and he could probably knock him down with one punch.
"Lowly dog, daring to laugh at nobles." The knight's eyes were particularly cold, he grabbed Sam's collar with one hand and lifted him out from under the table, "I'm going to hang you on the gallows and whip you to death!"
Saying that, he raised Sam, preparing to slap him a few times to vent his anger.
Margaret only watched coldly, it was just a country bumpkin, if it could make this security captain feel better, it would be fine if he died.
The number of poor people who died in Gonda every day was simply countless.
Sam immediately shouted in horror, "I am the leader of the spellcasting team of Highcliff Castle, I am a man under Marquis Levi!"
"Just a baron who made his fortune by selling himself." A thin attendant next to the knight said a joke circulating in the streets.
If the lord was present, he would have been amused.
Unfortunately, no one in the brothel laughed, and even many frowned. Some hot-tempered young mercenaries even wanted to draw their weapons, but were pressed back by the old mercenaries, who shook their heads.
Nowadays, the name of the lord of Highcliff Castle has become well-known in Debe, and recently, the other party severely frustrated the spirit of the Sith at the city gate, which made most people in Gonda feel relieved.
For this legendary figure, although there were some detractors whose brains were eaten by goblins.
But there were more admirers, especially among mercenaries and knights.
After all, this Lion Hunter Knight started out as a mercenary, and later became a knight.
Margaret was startled, but quickly shook her head. She heard that the people of Highcliff Castle were all very arrogant. The old man in front of her didn't even have a hard bone. He was probably another guy who was swindling under the name of Highcliff Castle.
As the Highcliff Castle team came to Gonda, these scammers had become more and more rampant recently. It would be good to teach them a lesson.
Moreover, even if it was true, it wasn't herself who offended him, and it had nothing to do with her.
Soon, Sam was tied to a Roman column on the street outside the Red Velvet with a rope around his ankle, and was constantly whipped with a leather whip.
The shrill screams attracted a crowd of onlookers and also drew the Highcliff Stronghold squad of burly men who were out for a stroll.
Sam felt as if he had seen a savior, and with a tearful voice, he issued a heart-wrenching accusation.
"Miel, Zart, these guys are bullying us Highcliff Stronghold folks because we're from the countryside!"
"Damn it, they dare to bully people from our Highcliff Stronghold squad."
Zart saw Sam being hung up and beaten, and he sneered twice, hung the wreath he was holding around his neck, and rolled up his sleeves to charge forward.
"You three blind, good-for-nothing bastards!"
With a punch and two kicks, he knocked the knight and the other two squires to the ground.
The other barbarians from the Highcliff Stronghold squad also swarmed over and surrounded the scene.
"Sam, I'll get you down right now."
Miel looked at the old shaman's body, which was covered in shocking wounds, and couldn't help but feel a surge of anger in his heart.
Although the old shaman was timid and often thought about escaping Highcliff Stronghold to work independently, that was only at the beginning.
Now that he had sincerely joined Highcliff Stronghold, even the good-tempered Miel felt anger when he saw his own people being bullied like this.
"Don't!" To Miel's surprise, the other party shook his head frantically, refusing.
Just when Miel thought he had some unique fetish, he didn't expect the other party to say with tears and snot running down his face, "I want the lord to see how these guys are bullying our Highcliff Stronghold!"
"High!" Miel instantly gave a thumbs up in admiration.
If his brother-in-law came to the scene and saw Sam like this, he would probably be furious.
With his love of face and protectiveness, he would definitely use this as an excuse to extort… no, to demand a hefty medical bill.
Some other soldiers maintaining order were watching from the sidelines.
When they saw their boss being knocked to the ground in an instant, they had to bite the bullet and draw their clubs to rush forward, even though they were afraid of these brawny orc strongmen.
Compared to being given the cold shoulder afterward, being beaten up was nothing.
What's more, they had the advantage in numbers.
All of Gonda was their territory!
"Margaret, why don't you have your men help deal with these rioting orcs!"
Someone howled in the chaos.
Margaret didn't listen, she just closed the door to prevent these guys from rushing into the Red Velvet.
This fight had nothing to do with her from the beginning, and there was no need to get involved.
A large-scale brawl began.
Unfortunately, reality was far crueler than imagined.
Even though they outnumbered these orc barbarians by more than ten times, all those who were knocked down were Gonda's guards, each lying on the ground and wailing in pain, unable to get out of bed for at least half a month.
Just then, the crowd of onlookers parted, and more than a hundred fully armed knights marched out in neat steps.
The middle-aged noble leading the group was originally furious, but when he saw the green and upright orc strongmen, he instantly put on a bitter face.
"Oh, it's you guys again, why are you fighting again?"
To be honest, he really didn't want to run into these Highcliff Stronghold guys, but there was no way, who told him he was the sheriff in charge of Gonda's security.
The anticipated escalation of the conflict did not occur.
He waved his hand to tell the knights not to act rashly.
After all, these ruthless guys were no match for the Sith lords with their iron men, let alone them.
Especially since their lord was a truly ruthless character.
He rubbed his hands and came closer to greet them, "Is this brother one of your people too? How did he get beaten up like this?"
The barbarians sneered and stood with their arms crossed in front of Sam, ignoring him.
"Why don't we get him down first? I'll find someone to invite Gonda's best physician for him."
The middle-aged noble was not discouraged and continued to persuade.
This matter was now beyond who was right or wrong.
What he should do first was to take this old man, who was obviously the victim, off the rack first.
Lest the Lion Hunter Knight see his miserable appearance and take the opportunity to get angry.
Unfortunately, no matter how he persuaded, the barbarians were as stubborn as mules and remained unmoved.
Seeing that being soft didn't work, he also became tough and pointed at the bleeding Sam, saying in a heartbroken and indignant voice, "Heroes! Don't you see that he's already seriously injured? If you don't send him for treatment, it will be too late!"
"I can actually hold on for a while longer."
Sam was obviously weak and looked like he could die at any moment, but he still had the strength to say that.
"Don't waste your breath.
Everything will be properly resolved when our lord comes over."
Miel glanced at him and said slowly.
The middle-aged noble was so angry that he opened his mouth to curse, but at the last moment before the words came out, he realized that going against these barbarians would definitely not end well, and he swallowed it back.
"Which bastards are bullying our Highcliff Stronghold people?!"
Before the person arrived, a deafening roar came from afar.
The lord, who had pretended to be furious and fierce, had his momentum weakened by three points when he saw the current scene.
The situation on the field was very simple and clear—Gonda's guards were knocked down in droves, at least a hundred of them, lying on the ground rolling and groaning.
Only the Highcliff Stronghold side had dozens of strong men with their arms crossed, still in the mood to point and laugh, and none of them were knocked down.
The image of them being the culprits was too obvious.
People have a natural tendency to sympathize with the weak, and it was no exaggeration to attribute them to the perpetrators of this tragedy.
"Lord!"
When Sam saw the lord, he felt as if he had seen the sun, and he shouted with full vigor.
"Isn't this my respected Grand Shaman Sam?" The lord looked up and was startled when he saw Sam, and then he regained his confidence, striding over aggressively, "Who beat you up like this?! What exactly is going on?!"
"Lord, these Gonda guards look down on us Highcliff Stronghold people, saying that you are just a male prostitute baron, and they beat people!"
Sam immediately began to complain miserably, twisting excitedly in mid-air, like a caterpillar, and a particularly dry one.
"Damn it!" The lord kicked the pillar that was as thick as a person's embrace, and it was like tofu.
The thick Roman pillar instantly shattered into pieces and flew out.
Everyone present couldn't help but shudder.
If this kick hit them, would they still be able to get up?
Sam, who had lost his support, also fell from above and was caught by several barbarians.
"Who hit my people and said I was a male prostitute baron, drag him over and chop him up!"
Pushing open the heavy oak door, one was greeted by an odor mixed with cheap perfume, sweat, and alcohol.
In the dim candlelight, silk curtains mingled with the cheap smell of alcohol, and gold and silverware coexisted with old wooden tables.
Noble knights and street thugs blurred the lines here. The prostitutes, dressed in various colors of silk and gauze, moved through the crowd, their makeup glamorous and their figures enchanting.
Whispers flowed in the corners as knights flaunted their battle exploits, merchants secretly discussed smuggling, and spies exchanged information.
Men sat around wooden tables, gulping down ale, slapping the barely visible, shapely buttocks of passing prostitutes, laughing loudly, occasionally reaching out to embrace a prostitute, whispering a few words, and then disappearing with her into the shadows upstairs.
The proprietress of Red Velvet was named Margaret. She used to be a palace maid. Now past thirty, she still retained her charm, like a ripe peach, becoming more charming with age.
Her eyes were sharp and shrewd, as if she could see through the minds of every customer.
Red Velvet was not just a place for pleasure; it was more like a miniature kingdom, full of power, desire, and betrayal.
Here, everyone had their own purposes and secrets, and the purpose of Red Velvet's creation was to explore these secrets.
After all, no man could withstand the skills of a prostitute proficient in various techniques without revealing the deepest secrets of his heart.
As for the owner behind the scenes, she glanced at the direction of the palace without making a sound.
Margaret sat behind the wooden counter, holding a glass of rum in her hand, her eyes scanning the crowd, soon focusing on a small, thin old man, about five feet tall.
Sam sat at a table in the corner, holding a glass of the cheapest, low-quality ale, watching with great interest the prostitutes who shuttled through the crowd like butterflies among flowers.
It was the first time he had seen so many beautiful and enchanting prostitutes, like delicate flowers standing on the roadside, ready to be picked.
Everything made this country bumpkin from the wilderness feel extraordinarily novel, regretting only that he hadn't brought enough money to feast his eyes.
However, occasionally he would imitate others, reaching out and slapping the buttocks of a passing prostitute, immediately leaving a clear, dark palm print.
Faced with the prostitute's glare, he just grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth with two missing.
"A country bumpkin with no money."
Margaret quickly withdrew her gaze. Red Velvet encountered many such people every day.
They came in, ordered a glass of the lowest quality ale, and sat in the corner, their eyes wishing they could strip all the prostitutes naked, but the reality was that they could only suffer from an empty wallet and indulge in a little hand action.
However, Red Velvet's principle was to welcome both nobles and commoners, so she couldn't actively drive people out.
Suddenly, some quarreling came from the stairwell. It was a burly knight, accompanied by two attendants.
The knight shouted loudly, "I paid you double the money, why did you only let me enjoy a few dozen heartbeats of time!" His voice was loud, attracting the attention of the surrounding people.
The prostitute sneered and retorted sharply, "You paid for two times, but both times you only lasted ten heartbeats! Even a stray dog is better than you.
My time is precious, and I have to serve others. Unless you continue to pay, don't think about continuing to do me!" Her voice was sharp and harsh, with obvious sarcasm.
Obviously, this prostitute, because of the owner behind her, seemed fearless when she was in the right.
Although he was a shaman, a noble spellcaster, all his spells were used to strengthen himself.
The strong man in front of him was as burly as a black bear, and he could probably knock him down with one punch.
"Lowly dog, daring to laugh at nobles." The knight's eyes were particularly cold, he grabbed Sam's collar with one hand and lifted him out from under the table, "I'm going to hang you on the gallows and whip you to death!"
Saying that, he raised Sam, preparing to slap him a few times to vent his anger.
Margaret only watched coldly, it was just a country bumpkin, if it could make this security captain feel better, it would be fine if he died.
The number of poor people who died in Gonda every day was simply countless.
Sam immediately shouted in horror, "I am the leader of the spellcasting team of Highcliff Castle, I am a man under Marquis Levi!"
"Just a baron who made his fortune by selling himself." A thin attendant next to the knight said a joke circulating in the streets.
If the lord was present, he would have been amused.
Unfortunately, no one in the brothel laughed, and even many frowned. Some hot-tempered young mercenaries even wanted to draw their weapons, but were pressed back by the old mercenaries, who shook their heads.
Nowadays, the name of the lord of Highcliff Castle has become well-known in Debe, and recently, the other party severely frustrated the spirit of the Sith at the city gate, which made most people in Gonda feel relieved.
For this legendary figure, although there were some detractors whose brains were eaten by goblins.
But there were more admirers, especially among mercenaries and knights.
After all, this Lion Hunter Knight started out as a mercenary, and later became a knight.
Margaret was startled, but quickly shook her head. She heard that the people of Highcliff Castle were all very arrogant. The old man in front of her didn't even have a hard bone. He was probably another guy who was swindling under the name of Highcliff Castle.
As the Highcliff Castle team came to Gonda, these scammers had become more and more rampant recently. It would be good to teach them a lesson.
Moreover, even if it was true, it wasn't herself who offended him, and it had nothing to do with her.
Soon, Sam was tied to a Roman column on the street outside the Red Velvet with a rope around his ankle, and was constantly whipped with a leather whip.
The shrill screams attracted a crowd of onlookers and also drew the Highcliff Stronghold squad of burly men who were out for a stroll.
Sam felt as if he had seen a savior, and with a tearful voice, he issued a heart-wrenching accusation.
"Miel, Zart, these guys are bullying us Highcliff Stronghold folks because we're from the countryside!"
"Damn it, they dare to bully people from our Highcliff Stronghold squad."
Zart saw Sam being hung up and beaten, and he sneered twice, hung the wreath he was holding around his neck, and rolled up his sleeves to charge forward.
"You three blind, good-for-nothing bastards!"
With a punch and two kicks, he knocked the knight and the other two squires to the ground.
The other barbarians from the Highcliff Stronghold squad also swarmed over and surrounded the scene.
"Sam, I'll get you down right now."
Miel looked at the old shaman's body, which was covered in shocking wounds, and couldn't help but feel a surge of anger in his heart.
Although the old shaman was timid and often thought about escaping Highcliff Stronghold to work independently, that was only at the beginning.
Now that he had sincerely joined Highcliff Stronghold, even the good-tempered Miel felt anger when he saw his own people being bullied like this.
"Don't!" To Miel's surprise, the other party shook his head frantically, refusing.
Just when Miel thought he had some unique fetish, he didn't expect the other party to say with tears and snot running down his face, "I want the lord to see how these guys are bullying our Highcliff Stronghold!"
"High!" Miel instantly gave a thumbs up in admiration.
If his brother-in-law came to the scene and saw Sam like this, he would probably be furious.
With his love of face and protectiveness, he would definitely use this as an excuse to extort… no, to demand a hefty medical bill.
Some other soldiers maintaining order were watching from the sidelines.
When they saw their boss being knocked to the ground in an instant, they had to bite the bullet and draw their clubs to rush forward, even though they were afraid of these brawny orc strongmen.
Compared to being given the cold shoulder afterward, being beaten up was nothing.
What's more, they had the advantage in numbers.
All of Gonda was their territory!
"Margaret, why don't you have your men help deal with these rioting orcs!"
Someone howled in the chaos.
Margaret didn't listen, she just closed the door to prevent these guys from rushing into the Red Velvet.
This fight had nothing to do with her from the beginning, and there was no need to get involved.
A large-scale brawl began.
Unfortunately, reality was far crueler than imagined.
Even though they outnumbered these orc barbarians by more than ten times, all those who were knocked down were Gonda's guards, each lying on the ground and wailing in pain, unable to get out of bed for at least half a month.
Just then, the crowd of onlookers parted, and more than a hundred fully armed knights marched out in neat steps.
The middle-aged noble leading the group was originally furious, but when he saw the green and upright orc strongmen, he instantly put on a bitter face.
"Oh, it's you guys again, why are you fighting again?"
To be honest, he really didn't want to run into these Highcliff Stronghold guys, but there was no way, who told him he was the sheriff in charge of Gonda's security.
The anticipated escalation of the conflict did not occur.
He waved his hand to tell the knights not to act rashly.
After all, these ruthless guys were no match for the Sith lords with their iron men, let alone them.
Especially since their lord was a truly ruthless character.
He rubbed his hands and came closer to greet them, "Is this brother one of your people too? How did he get beaten up like this?"
The barbarians sneered and stood with their arms crossed in front of Sam, ignoring him.
"Why don't we get him down first? I'll find someone to invite Gonda's best physician for him."
The middle-aged noble was not discouraged and continued to persuade.
This matter was now beyond who was right or wrong.
What he should do first was to take this old man, who was obviously the victim, off the rack first.
Lest the Lion Hunter Knight see his miserable appearance and take the opportunity to get angry.
Unfortunately, no matter how he persuaded, the barbarians were as stubborn as mules and remained unmoved.
Seeing that being soft didn't work, he also became tough and pointed at the bleeding Sam, saying in a heartbroken and indignant voice, "Heroes! Don't you see that he's already seriously injured? If you don't send him for treatment, it will be too late!"
"I can actually hold on for a while longer."
Sam was obviously weak and looked like he could die at any moment, but he still had the strength to say that.
"Don't waste your breath.
Everything will be properly resolved when our lord comes over."
Miel glanced at him and said slowly.
The middle-aged noble was so angry that he opened his mouth to curse, but at the last moment before the words came out, he realized that going against these barbarians would definitely not end well, and he swallowed it back.
"Which bastards are bullying our Highcliff Stronghold people?!"
Before the person arrived, a deafening roar came from afar.
The lord, who had pretended to be furious and fierce, had his momentum weakened by three points when he saw the current scene.
The situation on the field was very simple and clear—Gonda's guards were knocked down in droves, at least a hundred of them, lying on the ground rolling and groaning.
Only the Highcliff Stronghold side had dozens of strong men with their arms crossed, still in the mood to point and laugh, and none of them were knocked down.
The image of them being the culprits was too obvious.
People have a natural tendency to sympathize with the weak, and it was no exaggeration to attribute them to the perpetrators of this tragedy.
"Lord!"
When Sam saw the lord, he felt as if he had seen the sun, and he shouted with full vigor.
"Isn't this my respected Grand Shaman Sam?" The lord looked up and was startled when he saw Sam, and then he regained his confidence, striding over aggressively, "Who beat you up like this?! What exactly is going on?!"
"Lord, these Gonda guards look down on us Highcliff Stronghold people, saying that you are just a male prostitute baron, and they beat people!"
Sam immediately began to complain miserably, twisting excitedly in mid-air, like a caterpillar, and a particularly dry one.
"Damn it!" The lord kicked the pillar that was as thick as a person's embrace, and it was like tofu.
The thick Roman pillar instantly shattered into pieces and flew out.
Everyone present couldn't help but shudder.
If this kick hit them, would they still be able to get up?
Sam, who had lost his support, also fell from above and was caught by several barbarians.
"Who hit my people and said I was a male prostitute baron, drag him over and chop him up!"
