From a hired knight to a master of Game of Thrones

Chapter 4: You dare to cause trouble in front of me, Don Quixote?

Don Quixote picked up a wooden spoon, scooped up a spoonful of beef and wheat, and put it in his mouth.

He swallowed the warm chunk of meat quickly and squinted his eyes in satisfaction.

"Coo coo".

An untimely voice suddenly rang out.

Cole, who hadn't left yet, instantly turned red in the face.

He quickly turned his head away, trying to hide the longing look in his eyes as he secretly peeked at the crispy little pigeons.

Don Quixote raised an eyebrow and looked up at the emaciated boy standing beside him.

The boy's skin was a reddish-brown from the cold wind and the fire, and he was wearing old coarse linen clothes that his parents had altered to fit him.

"Very similar."

Don Quixote seemed to see himself seven or eight years ago.

Without hesitation, he reached out and tore the small roasted pigeon on the table in half, chuckling softly:

"Kid, you should have some too."

Cole swallowed hard and hesitated before saying:

"May I?

"Mrs. Vera warned us not to take anything from the guests, or we would be kicked out."

Don Quixote shook his head and laughed:

"This is a gift I shared with a friend, not something for any guest."

"Let's sit down and eat together, there are no other customers right now anyway."

Cole's eyes darted back and forth between the little pigeon and Don Quixote's faces.

His stomach was churning with cravings, making him extremely uncomfortable.

He finally gritted his teeth and said:

"Thank you... thank you, sir."

"I'm not some adult, just call me Don Quixote," Don Quixote said with a light laugh.

"Sit down and eat together."

Cole blinked, hesitated for a moment, and then said:

"Thank you, Don Quixote."

After saying that, Cole bent down and carefully picked up half a roasted pigeon.

After standing up, he continued:

"Don Quixote, I won't sit down to eat. Uncle Ronan will scold me if he sees me, and if Mrs. Vera sees me, I'm doomed."

Without waiting for Don Quixote's response, Cole quickly turned and slipped into a corner of the kitchen.

"Sigh, if it weren't for the system, my life would probably have continued in this humble way."

"There's not a glimmer of hope in the future!"

Don Quixote watched Cole's retreating figure and sighed.

But the aroma of the food on the table quickly drew his attention again.

Don Quixote let out a slow breath and continued to eat the meat with gusto.

Before long, he finished the last bit of pigeon meat and then gulped down the remaining half cup of ale.

Don Quixote thought contentedly:

"Drinking from large cups and eating meat in large chunks, this is the life that Don Quixote should have!"

"However, it feels like something's missing."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"I'm going to throw up!"

A burly man, completely drunk, announced loudly.

The next second, he leaned over and vomited.

"Spit it out!"

Upon seeing this, Don Quixote, standing at the bar, roared in anger:

"Don't dirty the pub floor!"

The drunkard didn't care at all, stiffening his neck and grinning foolishly, his tongue practically tied in knots:

"Why...why should I listen to you? I...I paid for the drinks! This tavern...this tavern has to do what I want!"

After saying that, he opened his mouth and began to gag again.

Ronan turned to Don Quixote with a cold expression and said:

"We can't let him vomit in the tavern; it will upset the other customers."

The few customers who were originally sitting around the drunkard in the tavern frowned and moved their chairs to the side, afraid of being affected by the drunkard.

Don Quixote took a deep breath, picked up his iron rod, and walked toward the drunkard.

Just then, the drunkard suddenly stood up, looked around, and shouted loudly:

"Where are those damn women? Where are those damn prostitutes? Why aren't they here?"

"I want to kill them."

"By the Old Gods above, you all stand aside and pour me more wine, watch me*."

The drunkard was clearly out of his mind and began saying things he wouldn't dare to say or shouldn't say in normal times.

The Old Gods remain the faith of the vast majority of people in the North.

Many guests' faces darkened.

"Shut up! You blasphemous fool!"

Don Quixote strode over to the drunkard, and with a swift right punch, slammed the sluggish man across the face, shouting angrily:

"If you're drunk, go back home and cause trouble!"

The drunkard was punched to the ground, struggling to get up, and said angrily:

"Which son of a bitch dared to ambush me!"

"Old Gods? What bullshit Old Gods!"

"They're just a few broken trees! What right do they have to... hiccup... what right do they have to stop me from drinking and womanizing?"

Don Quixote's face darkened, and he swung his iron rod, striking the drunkard directly in the back.

Bang!

"what……"

The drunkard screamed in pain and his body suddenly arched upwards.

"Drag him out! Tie him up outside and let him sober up!" a hunter shouted suddenly from not far away.

Suddenly, the drunkard let out a series of hoarse gurgling sounds.

"Damn it!"

Don Quixote's expression changed, and he hurriedly retreated.

The next instant, a mixture of sour alcohol and food residue splattered onto the floor in front of the drunkard.

The sour, foul smell quickly spread.

"asshole!"

Don Quixote cursed angrily, but did not step forward. Instead, he covered his mouth and nose and took a few steps back.

The drunk man lay on the ground convulsing, gagging repeatedly, almost vomiting bile.

Sticky liquid dripped down his chin onto the stone slab, mixing with the blood and foam at the corner of his mouth, making him look extremely disheveled.

The surrounding guests were initially disgusted, but then burst into laughter, and many of their anger was dissipated by the comical and disgusting scene.

"Serves him right! He was disrespectful to the Old Gods!"

"I hope he vomits to death! That way he won't dirty the rest of the place!"

...Damn it, he dirtied the Iron Axe Tavern.

Don Quixote's face darkened.

Although cleaning the floor wasn't his job, encountering something like this was still unpleasant.

...We need to deal with this matter quickly.

Don Quixote turned to Ronan and shouted:

"Ronan, did that bastard pay?"

"not yet."

Ronan shook his head, then thought for a moment and said:

"Two jugs of strong liquor, a pork kidney pie, and a roasted bison leg with chives."

"A total of 1 silver deer and 23 bronze points."

...Tsk tsk, looks like this drunkard comes from a well-off family.

Don Quixote observed that the drunkard's attire was unlike that of an ordinary commoner.

As he pondered, Don Quixote frowned and approached the drunkard, who was still dry heaving but much calmer, and said coldly:

"Are you awake now?"

"Hold……"

The drunkard's face immediately turned ugly when he saw Don Quixote. He was about to curse when he saw a dark iron rod pressed against his chin, so he had no choice but to swallow his words.

Don Quixote grinned maliciously: "Looks like he's still not fully awake."

He made a move as if to swing the iron bar again.

Seeing this, the drunkard, ignoring his sore throat, hurriedly shouted:

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Don Quixote nodded and said calmly:

"Bill: 1 Silver Deer, 23 Copper Cents, plus ground cleaning fee..."

At this point, Don Quixote quickly glanced at the guests around him.

There were eight guests in total.

Don Quixote continued, "24 coppers."

"No problem." The drunkard gritted his teeth and stared intently at Don Quixote, then took out 1 silver deer and 47 copper coins.

"Get lost."

Don Quixote stood up and shouted: