Eric is behind the bar.Was busy wiping the ale off the demon's skull.At this time, a stranger walked in. There are very few strangers visiting the Devil Guest Hotel.It is often hard to see a new face even after working all day.Since they were regular customers, Eric could almost remember everyone's appearance, but he couldn't call them by name: he never cared who came to patronize, what he cared about was whether the customers had money, whether they were hungry or thirsty. The man found a seat and sat down, looking like he was waiting for someone, but also looking for something, he was definitely not looking at the dark wooden wall anyway.Of course, even if he wanted to see it, he might not be able to see it clearly.The inn has no windows, and the only lamps are a few torches.Nor did he seem to be looking at the small round wooden stools scattered on the floor.Eric never bothers about the arrangement of tables and chairs, and the guests can sit where they like, as long as they want.

After a while, the stranger stood up, walked to the wooden bar, and asked, "Is anyone greeting you?" "No." Eric said.Spending a lot of money for a waiter is completely unnecessary in his opinion.If guests want to drink, they can come to the bar to order.He didn't want them to drink anymore if they drank too much and couldn't even get to the bar.Drunks especially like to fight.Eric runs a quiet hotel. The stranger slapped a silver dollar on the bar counter: "What is the most expensive wine here?" "Wild boar liquor from the North Realm. Orc wine, brewed in..."

The stranger wrinkled his nose and said, "No, no orc wine." Eric shrugged helplessly.People's preferences for alcohol are always different, and he has seen people argue about whether beer or corn whiskey tastes as fierce as discussing political and religious issues.However, whether the gentleman in front of him likes orc wine is none of Eric's business. "Then have a glass of corn whiskey, made just last month." "Deal!" The stranger slammed the table with his hand, shaking the shells, nuts and some debris piled up on it into a mess.Eric only cleans the bar once a year—it’s not like a devil’s skull—guests don’t even bother to look at it.Eric felt that it was unnecessary to spend time cleaning up a place that everyone ignored.

A soldier who frequented the shop for grog - a regular customer - turned around, looked at the stranger and asked, "Can you tell me what makes you hate Orc so much?" The stranger shrugged.Eric struggled to remove the corn whiskey bottle from the cupboard and poured some alcohol into a reasonably clean glass. "It's not that I hate the wine, sir—I hate the orcs." The stranger held out a hand. "My name is Magoz, and I'm a professional fisherman. I have to say that I'm not very satisfied with this season's harvest." .” The soldier neither held out his hand nor introduced himself. "It only shows that you are not a good fisherman."

Sensing the hostility in his words, Magoz lowered his hand a little, and picked up the glass of corn whiskey. "Sir, I'm a good fisherman—the harvests were good every season when I was in Kul Tiras. I wouldn't have come here if circumstances hadn't compelled me to." The businessman sitting on the other side of Magoz yelled, spittle flying into the ale in front of him: "The situation forced it? Very good! Are you here to fight the Burning Legion?" Magoz nodded: "I believe this is the reason most people come here. I thought I could start a new life in Theramore with my own efforts, but—it's impossible, those damned greenskins almost Occupied all the waters."

Eric felt the same way, but he disagreed with Magoz's conclusions.He himself came to Theramore after the Burning Legion was defeated.Not to fight—the war was over by then—but to inherit a legacy.His brother Olaf died fighting the Legion, leaving Eric a large sum of money.With this money he could open the hotel that Olaf had always dreamed of opening after demobilization.In addition, he also got a demon skull, which was also cut off by Olaf himself on the battlefield.Before, Eric had never thought of being his own boss, but he had nothing in particular to do anyway, so he might as well open a hotel in memory of his brother.And Eric is convinced that people living in Theramore will flock to him.Because the name of the inn symbolizes the defeat of demons, it is of great significance to the establishment of the city-state.Things did not go as he expected.

"I don't agree with that," said the soldier. "Since you have fought, fisherman, you should know what the Orcs have done for us." "The thing is, I don't feel bad for what they've done, sir," Magoz said, "but for what they're doing to us." "They took advantage," said the captain, sitting on a table behind the soldiers. "Even in Ratchet. Those goblins are always happy to leave the maintenance points and docks to the orcs. Just in Last month, I waited for a long time for a vacant seat, and the orc who arrived two hours later than me turned out to be there immediately."

The soldier turned around and said to the captain, "Then change to another place, don't go there." "It's not like you can't go if you don't want to go." The captain sneered. "It's like they sometimes have to go to repairs." Said the man sitting next to the captain - Eric thought this person was the first mate, because the two of them were dressed very similarly, "In order to build the ship, they also cut down The oaks on Mount Orgrimmar. See what they left us? Bad spruce, that's all. They hid the oaks, that's what they did, took all the good wood for themselves. Thanks to all that limp junk, our boat is going to leak out sooner or later."

Several voices echoed quietly. "It seems that you all want the orcs to disappear from here?" The soldier slammed his fist on the bar. "If it weren't for them, we would have been eaten up by demons! It's a fact." "No one denies this." Magoz took a sip of the corn whiskey. "However, post-war supplies should not be distributed in this way." "Don't forget, orcs used to be slaves." The voice came from the other side of the bar, and Eric was standing in a position where he couldn't see who it was. Shouldn't you be condemned for wanting to seize everything?"

"Of course I should. If they dare to steal my things again, I will definitely show them some color." The captain said. The merchant nodded: "The orcs don't belong to this place. They come from another world, and it was the Burning Legion that brought them here." The first mate muttered, "Perhaps, it's time for them to go back to their hometown." "Think about Queen Proudmoore's decision," Magoz said. Eric frowned.There was a sudden silence in the hotel.Just now people were whispering comments about their opinions, judging the people who participated in the discussion.

But at this moment, when Magoz mentioned Jaina Proudmoore's name—and, still in a contemptuous tone, everyone fell silent. It was so quiet.During the three years of running the hotel, Eric found that shopping usually happened in two situations: when the hotel was too loud; or, when the hotel was too quiet.And the troubles caused by the latter are often more intractable. The soldier sitting next to the previous soldier stood up—he had broad shoulders and a broad body, although he didn't speak much, but when he spoke, the sound was as terrifying as thunder, and the demon skull was shaken on the bracket Quacking. "Who dares to speak ill of Queen Proudmoore? Looks like he doesn't want any teeth!" Magoz gulped down his drink, and hurriedly continued: "I have always been respectful to Her Majesty the Queen, sir, I swear." He took another gulp of whiskey, and his eyes widened because he drank too much.He shook his head desperately a few times. "Queen Proudmoore treated us well," the merchant said. "After the Burning Legion was driven out, she helped us establish our own tribe. What you said is true, but it is not the Queen's responsibility. I have never known anyone in my life." Young Master, most of them are not even worthy to carry my shoes, but the Queen is different. If anyone dares to despise her, they will lose their hearts." "I never meant to belittle the queen, sir." Magoz said, his voice trembling from the big gulp of whiskey just now, "but you don't find it strange that no one negotiated with the orcs on the wood mentioned by the gentlemen. Is it?" He pondered for a while: "Maybe she has already tried, but the orcs don't agree." The captain swallowed his ale and said, "Maybe they want her out of Northwatch as well." "We should get out of there," said the merchant. "The Barrens is a neutral area, as agreed from the beginning." "You must be crazy if you think we're going to give up there," said the soldier with a straight face. Magoz said, "That's where the orcs defeated Admiral Proudmoore." "Yes, things in the world are hard to tell. Queen Proudmoore is a wise leader, but her father is a fool," the merchant shook his head, "We should have put this scandal behind us long ago, but it is very difficult Difficult, unless—” The captain interrupted him: "If you ask my opinion, I would say that we should expand to the area north of Northwatch." The businessman looked exasperated—even though it was none of Eric's business, he neither cared nor wanted to know—and said, "Are you crazy?" "You are crazy! The orcs are trying to squeeze us out. They are all over the Holy Continent now, but we only have Theramore. The battle with the Burning Legion has been over for three years, do we still want to be inferior in our own territory? life?—continuing in the cesspit of the city.” "Theramore is no worse than other places," the soldier argued, but the second half of his words fell to the other party's side, "The territory of the orcs is indeed larger than ours, and that's why we can't give up Northpost—" It acts as a natural barrier outside the walls of Theramore." "And," the mate snorted over his ale, "the Orcs don't like us being there, and we want to be there. That's why." "No one asks you to speak," said the businessman maliciously. Another man at the bar—Eric moved a little, and now he could see it was the wharf bookkeeper—said, "Maybe that's the way to go. The masters of Limdor, not us. But this is our place, now is the time to act. Orcs are not human, they don't even belong to this world. Why should they dictate our lives?" "But, they have the right to live their own lives, don't they?" the businessman asked. The soldier nodded. "I have to admit that their bravery on the battlefield has earned them this right. If it weren't for them..." He drank the wine, then pushed the glass towards Eric, "have an ale." Eric hesitated, his hand already reaching for the bottle of Grog.Since the shop opened, the soldiers never drink any other alcohol when they come back here, only drink Grog. However, it is inconvenient for Eric to ask a regular customer who has patronized for three years.Besides, the guest could drink what he wanted, as long as he could afford it, and even if he wanted soapy water, Eric had to sell it to him. "As a matter of fact," said the captain, "this is our world, as it was born. The orcs are only outsiders, and they should have gone away long ago." And so the discussion continued.Eric poured several more glasses for his guests, tossing a few used glasses in the sink for cleaning.It wasn't until he filled the merchant's glass of ale that he realized that Margoz - the initiator of the whole conversation - had quietly left. He didn't even give a tip.Eric shook his head in disgust.The name of the fisherman had long been thrown out of the sky by him. But he still remembered that face.Maybe next time he'll spit into this son of a bitch's glass--drinking just one glass and getting into all this trouble.Eric hated troublemakers the most in his life.Inexplicably annoying. More and more people began to complain about the orcs.At this time, the burly man sitting next to the soldier raised his fist and slammed on the bar, and the ale in his glass splashed on the devil's skull.Eric sighed, picked up a rag, and started wiping. For a long time, Margoz dared not walk the dark streets of Theramore alone. Of course, there is no need to worry about criminals in such a place.Everyone knows each other, and even if they don't know each other, they can develop a relationship through twists and turns.So the crime rate here is quite low.And even if someone committed a crime, Queen Proudmoore's guards would bring them to justice as quickly as possible. But Margoz was so small, and those tall and strong people took pleasure in bullying the weak, so he always avoided going out alone at night.You never know when those big guys will jump out of the dark corners and beat you up just to show how strong they are.Magoz was beaten several times in this way.Later, he gradually learned how to be good, and knew how to please them and win their favor, so that he would not be beaten. But now, he no longer has to be afraid, he is not afraid of anything, because he has a master.Although Margoz must do his bidding, this time the master promised power and wealth in return.In the past, he just promised to save his life.Although this is tantamount to exchanging violence for violence, Margoz thinks it is very suitable for him. The salty sea breeze gently brushes over the water and blows into the harbor.Magoz took a deep breath, feeling energized by the salty sea water.At the Devil's Buster Inn, he wasn't telling the truth: he was a fisherman, but by no means a successful fisherman.And he never fought the Burning Legion.When he came here, the war had died down.He's only here in search of a better job opportunity.Back in Kul Tiras, he hadn't been able to catch enough fish—it wasn't his fault, he'd done his best.But the owner of the dock ignored these, what should I do? What can be done?A severe beating. So he came to Kalimdor.It was the time of immigration.Thousands of people flocked to Theramore, hoping to find a living job among the human tribes led by Queen Proudmoore.But Magoz is not alone in fishing, and he is far from being a good fisherman. Before his master showed up, he couldn't eat enough to feed himself, let alone sell the fish he caught.Several times, he wanted to hold the anchor and jump into the sea.It's done. Fortunately his master showed up.Everything is getting better. After a while, Margoz arrived home.This is a humble apartment.Although he begged many times—the room was not ventilated, the furniture was worn out, and the house was full of rats—the owner never agreed to let him move to a better house.And he thought Magoz was complaining, so he simply ignored it.And he also warned him that doing so would attract attention, and what Magoz had to do now was not to be discovered. Tonight, he was sent to the Demon Buster Inn to spread the word against the orcs.Before that, he never dared to get close to this kind of place. Those guys who like to hit people often gather in the tavern, and he would rather stay away from them. Rather, he is used to avoiding them. He enters the room.There was a mattress as thick as a slice of bread, covered with burlap sheets that made it itchy to sleep on.Magoz used it only during particularly harsh winters.There was also a lantern in the room, but nothing else.A mouse scurried past and burrowed into a crack in the wall. Magoz sighed.He knew exactly what to do next.Apart from not being able to move to a better place, there was one more thing in this deal that disgusted him.That is, he will have an unpleasant smell on him.It was a side effect of every time he performed magic at his master's behest, and for whatever reason, it annoyed Magoz. But it's worth the sacrifice to gain that power.And now he can still go to the streets alone, go to the Devil Buster Hotel to drink openly, without worrying about someone waiting for an opportunity to bully him. Magoz pulled off his collar, reached into his shirt, and pulled out a necklace.The silver pendant on the necklace was like a fiery blade.He clutched it tightly in his palm, as if pricking his palm, and then he read silently.Although he would never know the meaning of this spell, he always felt an indescribable fear whenever this happened.He read: "Galtek Erednas. Erednas Bangalar. Erednash Harvey Yesog. Galtek Erednas." A stench of sulfur began to fill the room.Magoz hated the smell the most. Galtek Earred Nash.Did you do as I ordered? "Yes, sir." To Margoz's embarrassment, he found his voice sounded a little shrill.He cleared his throat and said in as low a voice as possible, "I did everything you told me to do. When I mentioned the orcs' evil deeds, almost the entire tavern joined in." almost? Magoz didn't like the threat the word implied. "One guy didn't want to join, and the rest of the gang ganged up on him. He was a target. That's it." It seems.You did a great job. I finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir, thank you. I'd be glad to be of your service," he hesitated, "and may I, sir, consider moving me to a better place now? As you have probably noticed, the mouse -" As long as you do something for us, you will definitely be rewarded. "As you say, sir, but—I, I hope sooner." He decided to take advantage of the fear that had haunted him all his life. "Tonight I am in danger again, you know, near the dock Let's go-" As long as you obey us, there will be no danger.You no longer have to be afraid.Magoz. "I-I know that. I just-" You're just trying to live a life you're not allowed to live yet.This is understandable.But, Margoz, you have to be patient.The reward will come when it comes. The stench of sulfur began to subside slowly. "Thank you, sir. Gertek Erednash!" A voice said indistinctly: "Galtek Erednash." The room returned to silence. At this time, there was a loud noise on the wall, and Magoz vaguely heard the neighbor next door calling: "Stop arguing! We are going to sleep!" In the past, Magoz would certainly have shrunk in fright at such a shout, but now, he didn't care, and planted his head on the mattress, hoping that the smell wouldn't disturb his sleep.