The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Shelly took the wine bag and gently placed it on the counter, smiling sweetly.

"Fill it up, Shelly." Tyrion gestured with his short hand.

Although it was terrible, low-quality wine, it was all they had. Something was better than nothing.

Shelly blinked and smiled sweetly.

The Imp sensed something was wrong. He looked at the landlady, who still had a friendly smile on her face, revealing a set of white, beautiful teeth, but she didn't order anyone to bring the Imp a warm loaf of bread, nor was there any ham and carrot soup.

Nothing at all.

What was going on?

Was he encountering a black shop?

"Landlady?" The Imp asked tentatively.

"Customer, we're a small business here, no credit allowed. I'm sorry, please pay first."

"I've already paid for seven days," the Imp said with a serious expression, indicating that he was not someone to be trifled with.

"Customer, this is Exeter. Outsiders who come here to cause trouble don't usually end well," the landlady's smile disappeared, and her beautiful teeth were no longer visible.

The Imp looked at Shelly, who shrugged, giving him a helpless expression.

"Don't mess with me, or else..."

"Or else what are you going to do?" A lazy voice said.

At the door, two tall, burly men appeared, one leaning against the doorframe, the other walking in slowly and lazily. The man who walked in was a black man, and he was smiling at the Imp. "Dwarf, what do you want to do?" The man said with a smile as he walked, and then, with a whoosh, he pulled out a short knife.

The short knife was shiny and very sharp!

"Okay, I'll leave!" The Imp was a discerning person and made a decisive decision.

Retreating quickly when things didn't look good was the Imp's way of life.

"Pay for today first," the landlady said coldly.

"I haven't eaten or drank anything today," the Imp said, spreading his hands.

"You've been in the room for more than two hours, so you have to pay for a day," the landlady said.

The man leaning against the doorframe stood in the doorway, blocking the way out.

The black man holding the short knife walked up to the Imp, his belt buckle pressing against the Imp's face, pushing the Imp against the counter wall with no way to retreat. "Dwarf, pull out your knife and give me a stab."

"Okay, I'll pay," the Imp's mouth was almost blocked by the black man's dirty belt. The man had a strange stench, like the fishy smell of a snake.

The black man stepped back two steps, holding the short knife in his hand, smiling triumphantly.

The Imp gasped violently.

The black man had squeezed him so hard that his back was painfully pressed against the counter. The other party's dirty belt was almost embedded in his mouth, suffocating him so that he could barely breathe.

The landlady also had a smile on her face, while Shelly looked at him innocently.

"My money bag is lost..."

The black man's face immediately changed, and the landlady's smile disappeared instantly.

The black man raised his knife...

"But I can use something as collateral..." the Imp said quickly, he unfastened the short knife from his sword belt, "This is a short knife made of high-quality iron, worth at least three gold coins."

"One copper coin." The landlady took the short knife, looked at it, and threw it on the counter with a snap.

"You should draw the blade and take a look. There's probably no weapon in all of Exeter that's sharper than this short knife."

"One copper coin," the landlady announced expressionlessly.

"One gold coin, no less."

The landlady grabbed the short knife and threw it on the ground with a snap. "I don't even want one copper coin. Pay for today's meal."

The Imp blinked. He knew that today was not a day to reason, and this was not a place where one could reason. This was the reason why a dwarf couldn't go to a remote and barbaric place: he would be bullied at will.

"Landlady, I have friends in the Sea King's Palace, the Iron Bank, and the House of Black and White," the Imp said proudly. "Think carefully about the consequences. Take the short knife as the room fee, and we'll be even. After I leave, I guarantee I won't come back to cause you trouble."

"Is that so? But if you don't pay the room fee today, you can't leave this door," the landlady said coldly. She turned her head to look at Shelly. "Lillian, if you keep smiling foolishly, I'll slash your face."

Shelly, who had been smiling sweetly at the Imp, immediately shut her mouth, looked up, and put on a straight face.

Yes, this woman was called Lillian, not the Imp's Shelly. He was just a dwarf, and not a Lannister giant. This was the remote and barbaric Exeter, not the bustling city center of Braavos. The people here were savage and unreasonable.

The Imp picked up the short knife, drew it out, and a ray of light flowed on the blade, as if it were alive.

The Imp threw the knife on the counter. "Landlady, you know in your heart whether I paid for a week or not, and I know it too. You know how much this knife is worth, and I know it too. The knife is yours, and we're even. Or, kill me and take this short sword, as well as these clothes and boots." The Imp stared at the landlady with provocation and hostility, his one eye gleaming. His right hand gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

If the other party didn't accept, the Imp decided to get tough!

Death was death. All men must die.

The atmosphere suddenly became filled with murderous intent.

The Imp went all out, and his entire temperament completely changed.

The landlady glanced at the two black men and reached out to pick up the short knife on the counter. "And the scabbard."

The Imp felt a sense of relief!

Bad people were indeed afraid of ruthless people, even if that ruthless person was a dwarf.

The Imp threw the scabbard in his hand on the ground. "The scabbard is yours."

This was a humiliating act, but the Imp did it anyway. His one eye also glanced at the black men beside him, and his right hand was still gripping the hilt of his sword. As long as the other party made any unusual movements, he would draw his sword and insert it into the other party's abdomen.

"Okay, we're even," the landlady said.

The black man standing in the middle of the doorway made way.

The Imp stared deeply at the landlady and glanced at Shelly. "Shelly, thank you for your companionship these past two days. Can you smile at me one last time?"

Lillian glanced at the landlady and gave the Imp a fake smile. "Goodbye, my Lannister giant."

The Imp revealed an ugly smile, and he walked out of the brothel.

He decided to leave Exeter.

But before he left, he had to fill his stomach first.

The Imp came to a dilapidated little shop, where a freckled, chubby boy with messy hair was baking black bread.

The Imp unfastened the sword belt around his waist, raised it, and handed it to the freckled, chubby boy, while grabbing the short sword with his other hand. "Hey, handsome young man, can you give me a loaf of bread?"

The chubby boy accepted the sword belt that the Imp raised. The sword belt was embroidered with exquisite patterns and looked like a good thing.

The Imp exchanged it for two black loaves of bread.

With these two loaves of bread, the Imp would be able to leave Exeter.

"Hey." A voice sounded behind the Imp.

The Imp turned around and saw a boy with a wicked smile squatting not far away.

The Imp was not afraid of this boy who looked like a hooligan.

He was also someone who had killed people and been on the battlefield. He had seen many people who were more brutal and tyrannical than these hooligans.

The Imp decided that it was better to avoid trouble.

He decided to take a side street to leave here.

As he took two steps, he heard a shout from behind, "Hey, leave your two loaves of bread, dwarf."

The Imp turned around and saw two more hooligan boys beside the hooligan.

The Imp's one eye stared at the three boys with wicked smiles. "Look at the terrible sword wound on my face, look at my broken nose, and the empty eye socket where my eye was gouged out." The Imp pulled open his eye patch, revealing a terrifying eye socket. "Stay away from me, or I'll cut off your dicks and stuff them down your throats."

"Is that so?" A voice sounded behind the Imp.

The Imp turned around and saw four young boys standing at the end of the side street not far away, each with a fierce look on their faces. The leading boy was holding a wooden stick. Although the stick was a bit short, it was as tall as the Imp.

Footsteps sounded behind him. The Imp turned around again, and on this side, the three provocative boys from before had turned into seven or eight, and more little bastards were emerging from the corners of the street.

Turning around, on this side, more little bastards were constantly appearing. Soon, there were about twenty little bastards on both sides, blocking the Imp's two roads ahead and behind.

Crackling!

The shops on both sides of the street closed their doors and windows one after another.

The blond, freckled, chubby boy who sold the Imp black bread also took the bread into the house, quickly removed the stall board, ran into the hut, and slammed the door shut.

Whoosh!

With a soft sound, the Imp drew his short sword. The short sword was silver and extremely sharp.

A good sword.

The Imp's swords were all the best.

"Who wants to die first?" The Imp decided to use the trick he used in the brothel and fight these street hooligans. He believed that no one would really dare to risk their lives with him. A bunch of kids who hadn't fully developed were all softies who bullied the weak and feared the strong.

"Ooh ooh ooh ooh!" The leading boy shouted for the Imp's courage.

"Ooh ooh ooh ooh!" More boys joined the shouting.

Then, the Imp saw that all of these young people drew wooden sticks from behind them.

Ooh ooh ooh ooh!

The boys on both sides shouted together with a smile, as if looking at an idiot.

They all pressed towards the Imp.

And more than twenty wooden sticks stretched out, pointing at the Imp.

"What do you want? Bread?" The Imp decided to try reasoning.

"Bread, sword, boots, and your well-tailored coat," the leading boy said with a smile. He spoke while laughing, and in between, he interspersed the rhythmic sound of ooh ooh ooh.

The boys on both sides came within attacking distance, stopped together, and looked mockingly at the Imp trapped in the middle.

The Imp felt his mouth dry.

"I'll give you the bread, the sword and boots, unless..."

Whoosh!

The wind sounded behind his head. The Imp hurriedly lowered his head, and his wrist hurt. With a clang, the short sword fell to the ground. Then his left leg hurt, and a boy's wooden stick hit his calf. The Imp was short enough, but the other party was able to sweep his calf, unless that guy was squatting and sweeping across the ground.

Before the Imp could react, he was ambushed from behind by several children, who knocked his short sword away and knocked him down. In the blink of an eye, the Imp's arms, legs, shoulders, head, and back were hit by many sticks.

More children rushed up, pressed the Imp to the ground, and began to tear his clothes.

The shouts of ooh ooh ooh ooh resounded throughout the street. More young people who were watching the excitement but couldn't intervene shouted ooh ooh ooh ooh, as if this was the only language they knew. They were jumping and shouting ooh in revelry!

The Imp felt pain all over his body. Many fists and feet rained down on him, and many hands scratched and tore at his body. The sound of clothes tearing was constant.

The Imp clamped his legs together and held his head in his hands. Before his eyes was a darkness, and in his ears were the frenzied, chaotic shouts and beatings.

He didn't know how long it had been, but just as the Imp thought he was bound to die today, a whistle sounded, and all the little bastards stopped together, stepped back, and admired the ragged, cowering dwarf on the ground.

"You've gone too far, so many people beating a dwarf," the leading boy said regretfully. "How about this, those who didn't lay a hand on him, lift the dwarf up and throw him into the stinky ditch."

"No!" The Imp heard his voice sound hoarse, weak, and powerless.

Then, he felt himself being lifted up and moving rapidly. He opened his eyes and saw pairs of happy, joyful, and frenzied eyes. The eyes of these children were all looking at him enthusiastically, and each pair of eyes had a face full of smiles.

Whoosh!

The Imp experienced the feeling of flying through the clouds!

He instinctively let out a wailing scream.

Splash!

With a loud noise, the Imp fell into the stinky ditch. His small body smashed into the black filth, stirring up black splashes, and then he was submerged by the closing sewage.

The ooh ooh ooh ooh and cheers intertwined, like a joyous song of praise.

When the Imp crawled out of the stinky ditch, his whole body was covered in black mud. Filth wrapped around his body, and the sour, rotten, black water made him nauseous.

Boom!

The wicked boys scattered in all directions!

The pain in the Imp's body disappeared, replaced by the suffocating feeling of being unable to breathe.

He thought of something that no one could avoid: death!

Damn it, I'd rather be beaten to death!

The Imp moved his feet, hoping that someone would help him and give him a bucket of water. He was a纨绔, even in the worst of times, he had never lacked food and clothing, let alone being so filthy.

He was almost disgusted to death by himself!

A very calm, very clean, and very peaceful voice sounded, "All men must die."

This was a proverb that everyone in Braavos knew, originating from the Faceless Men of the House of Black and White.

The person who said this must be a devout believer. These people all had the noble qualities of helping the poor and the sick, similar to the monks and nuns on the Westeros continent who helped the poor, treated the sick, gave names, and distributed thin porridge.

"All men must serve," the Imp said with all his strength.

Black, foul-smelling liquid dribbled from his mouth. A rotting, stinking fish sat atop his head. His legs went weak, and upon hearing that exquisitely beautiful, sacred voice say, 'Let me help you,' the little devil, who had been clinging on with every fiber of his being, finally relaxed. He collapsed, unconscious.

Unconsciousness was a blessed, instinctive defense, protecting him from further torment.