Wizard: I brought the wrong system

The tavern in the Mannheim market has a separate street with simple stalls on both sides. Most of the stall owners are wearing blood-stained leather armor, sitting on the ground with their swords in their arms, and passers-by will walk up from time to time. Take a look or two, or ask a few words in a low voice.

This environment made Yarrow feel a little familiar, a bit like the corner street of the Owl Wizard Academy.

But because he was too shy in his pocket, Yarrow didn't have the mood to wander around. He walked down the street, and finally saw the gate of the tavern at the end of the street.

Pushing the heavy wooden door, the hustle and bustle came rushing towards him with hot and stale air.

The piercing sound of the wooden door attracted the attention of several customers at the entrance of the tavern. They glanced at Yarrow, and continued to be happy. There was no such thing as what Harvey said, "everyone knows your strength", what 'There must be a lot of hunting teams rushing to collect' the situation.

Even the bartender didn't receive him. Instead, he stood in the room and shouted: "If you want to enter, hurry up, don't keep blocking the door one by one, is it interesting to stand at the door?"

Yarrow walked into the room and asked with a smile, "Don't you know me?"

The bartender was a young man in his twenties. He looked up a few times while wiping the glass, and said inexplicably:

"I have to get up before dawn every day, and I have been busy until late at night. I don't know how long I haven't seen what the day looks like outside. Why do I know you? What? Knowing you can increase my salary?"

Yarrow laughed, "Of course not, I don't know your boss."

"Cut, that's fine!"

The bartender got more confidence, lowered his head, and wiped the glass a little faster, "Would you like something? If you don't, don't waste my time."

Yarrow wasn't annoyed, he smiled and said, "You're a bit interesting... well, what do you guys eat here? What's the price?"

Yarrow's lack of magic stones is due to buying purification potions, and his lack of gold coins is due to being 'burned' by magic strikes, but he does not lack silver coins.

It's okay to eat a few normal meals.

Hmm... The key is to be normal, he can't afford the high-end meal that Magic Stone started with.

The bartender didn't look up, "Warcraft meat..."

"Ordinary food will do," Yarrow interrupted.

"Spelled bran broth, fivepence a piece, black bread porridge, threepence a piece."

Wheat bran is the wheat skin that comes off when wheat is ground into flour, similar to the red peel in peanuts.

Spelt wheat, belonging to horse fodder in Viscount Cory.

The ingredients of spelled bran broth can be imagined.

Black bread, the conscience is made of a small amount of wheat flour mixed with a large amount of bran, and the unscrupulous ones will also be mixed with a large amount of sawdust, which is harder than wood when cooled, and can be used as a weapon in a crisis.

'Spelled Wheat Bran Broth' is paired with 'Black Bread Porridge', this level of food and drink will make ordinary people cry.

Yarrow frowned displeasedly, and leaned forward sideways, the metal arm armor covered under the robe knocked on the shiny bar counter, making a dull collision sound.

pat!

"Do you have a habit of feeling uncomfortable without being beaten?"

The bartender stood up abruptly: "Come and try..."

Before he finished speaking, a decadent middle-aged alcoholic walked over a few steps and said with a laugh:

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! This brat lost his love today, haha, I've already said, what's the big deal, it's better to drink..."

The bartender looked unconvinced: "Uncle Hank, I didn't..."

"Shut up! Grab a... two fires of single malt!"

The bartender said weakly: "No way, my aunt said that I can only sell you three glasses of wine a day. If you have finished your three glasses, if I sell it to you again, my aunt will blame me."

"You're the one who talks a lot of nonsense, and you're the one who talks a lot of nonsense. I won't give you any more money, or what? Give me wine... wine!"

The drunkard started beating people as soon as he made a gesture, fully displaying the image of a drunkard drunkard.

Yarrow sees that the middle-aged alcoholic is interrupting the young bartender, but he's happy with it.

Because the bartender is just a little thing.

Instead, it was this middle-aged alcoholic, and Yarrow, who had been fighting for a long time, felt a breath of gunpowder in him.

It's not the kind of murderous intent aimed at people, he doesn't have the little habit of observing the fatal weakness of human beings.

Therefore, it is likely to be the old hunter of the hunting team.

Does this count as drowsiness meets the pillow?

Thinking so, Yarrow stopped the drunkard with a smile.

"It's not a big deal, forget it."

This sentence is talking about alcoholics, and it is talking about things before.

Then Yarrow turned back to the bartender and said, "Help this uncle a glass of Flame Whiskey, and bring me a glass of juice."

Yarrow's meaning is obvious, this is to invite Uncle Hank to have a drink.

"Well, again... I am serving this gentleman a roast lamb... all... I will charge it to my account!"

Uncle Hank shouted drunkenly... Well, this sentence is particularly drunk, it is the feeling of stumbling around and about to fall at any time.

"Don't worry, I'm short of money. I want to go to the Dark Plains to hunt monsters, and I'm going to find a hunting team to join."

There's nothing wrong with being short of money.

Strong and poor, who dares to make a mistake?

They should all be lucky if they don't play other people's ideas.

Then... Uncle Hank fell 'drunk' directly at the bar.

Just when Yarrow was about to help him, a gentleman next to him, holding a wine glass and drinking slowly, suddenly said:

"Sir, we actually only dare to look for lone monsters at the edge of the dark plain, and we have to make long-term preparations before we dare to make a move. With your strength, you don't need to join us at all, and...we I am also resting, and I don’t know how long I will wait for the next departure.”

Yarrow glanced at him, then glanced at the drinkers around him, and suddenly said, "Is this your captain?"

Although it is an interrogative sentence, what it says is convincing.

This is judged from their stance and facial subtle reactions.

"Um... yes." The gentleman was taken aback for a moment, then nodded in admission.

"Okay," Yarrow stood up, "Your captain is 'drunk', you must have no right to allow me to join?"

Yarrow accentuated the pronunciation of 'drunk'.

"...I'm sorry, it's true." The gentleman bowed apologetically.

Yarrow pointed to the empty seat beside him: "Can you explain the situation in the dark plain for me? I'm very curious about it. Of course, I can also buy you a drink."

"This..." The gentleman's eyes were a little misty.

At this time, Uncle Hank, who was already 'drunk' on the bar, moved his finger slightly...

"Of course! It's my honor. Please bring me a glass of gin." The gentleman smiled.

Yarrow immediately added: "Well! There is also a glass of juice, and a roast lamb..."

"Describe it to the account of this 'drunk' gentleman!"