After hearing Sherlock’s words, the waiter couldn’t help but show an admiring expression, impressed by Sherlock’s knowledge about food. However, after the admiration came an apology, "I’m very sorry, sir, Big Fire Rock Crabs are indeed more abundant during this time, but that’s relatively speaking. Big Fire Rock Crabs are very rare, even rarer than Tiger Striped Spot Fish and Black Ear Shells, we seldom have them here."
"What about the Deep Sea Ice Shrimp?" Sherlock asked with his last bit of hope, "You can at least make Deep Sea Ice Shrimp porridge, right? I’d be satisfied with that."
The waiter fell silent and after a pause, said, "Sir, just by hearing the name ’Deep Sea Ice Shrimp,’ you know that it’s found only in the deep sea and is even more precious than the Big Fire Rock Crabs we talked about earlier. Honestly, I have only seen Deep Sea Ice Shrimp three times in the past year, all caught by our boss personally when he was lucky during his fishing trips. Normally, we don’t see them at all."
"So you’re saying you really don’t have anything here?" Sherlock couldn’t help but say.
The waiter, a bit embarrassed, scratched his head and looked at Sherlock, "Sir, why don’t you... wait a bit? Our boss went out to sea to fish this noon himself, and he should be back by dusk. If his luck isn’t too bad, he might bring back some Tiger Striped Spot Fish, then..."
Right then, a sturdy and enthusiastic black man suddenly entered through the tavern’s door, shouting towards the kitchen, "It’s here, bring the stuff!"
"Yes." Two young waiters ran out of the kitchen and quickly carried several boxes of unknown items from outside.
Sherlock’s eyes lit up, and pointing at the black man at the door, he asked the waiter, "Is that your boss?"
"Great, go ask him, what did he catch?"
"Alright." The waiter quickly ran over, asked a couple of questions, and came back with a bizarre expression.
"What?" Sherlock asked, "What did you catch in the end?"
"Tiger Striped Spot Fish, Black Ear Shells, Big Fire Rock Crab, Deep Sea Ice Shrimp," the waiter said, emotionless, not knowing what expression to use—it was too coincidental!
Sherlock was delighted and quickly said, "Then stop talking and start cooking, I’ll pay well, I can’t wait to have a feast."
"Okay, sir, please wait a moment." The waiter listened and walked towards the kitchen.
In a moment, the dishes Sherlock had ordered were prepared and served, and they began to eat.
It’s safe to say, the food Sherlock ordered was exceptionally good.
Whether it was the tender braised Tiger Striped Spot Fish, the flavorful Black Ear Shell soup, the steamed Big Fire Rock Crab, or the Deep Sea Ice Shrimp porridge, all were incredibly delicious.
The group ate swiftly, thoroughly enjoying their meal.
In the meantime, Sherlock had taken care of the unloading and even added two more dishes.
One was fried goose liver and the other was milk and hasma dessert.
These dishes were each delightful in their own right, the fried goose liver being crispy yet tender, and the milk and hasma dessert sweet and delicious, making one’s mouth water.
But even with such tasty food, Richard felt he should stop eating when he was about 80% full to prevent the adverse effects of overeating—obesity was secondary, the main issue being that too much food could overburden the digestive system, causing more blood to flow to the digestive system rather than the brain, which could affect thinking.
He still had work to handle later and could not allow this to happen.
In fact, rather than overindulging, he preferred to control his diet to maintain a slight sense of hunger, which helped with thinking, clearing his mind, and speeding up work efficiency.
Of course, he couldn’t use this method often, since he didn’t want to cause poor health due to long-term malnutrition. As for working long hours without sleep or food when faced with tricky situations, that was another matter entirely.
Thinking thus, Richard looked around and suddenly, with a raised eyebrow, noticed something interesting.
In a corner of the tavern, two men, one in yellow and one in blue, were sneaking around. Occasionally, they would stop behind a diner, hook their hand, and fish out a wallet, quickly stuffing it into their chests. Their movements were discreet, and the tavern was noisy, so no one noticed for a while.
These two were clearly experienced, and in a short time, they had stolen five or six wallets, reaping a substantial harvest. Satisfied, they prepared to leave when they turned around and noticed Richard’s gaze. Their expressions changed drastically, realizing they had been observed.
The two men’s faces darkened, fully aware that if Richard made any noise, they would certainly not be able to leave the tavern. They exchanged glances, quickly communicating through their eyes.
Finally, the man in yellow, who had more nerve, took a deep breath, put on a fierce expression, stepped toward Richard, and whispered a threat as he passed by, "Kid, you didn’t see anything, understand!"
After dropping these words, the man in yellow and his companion hurried toward the tavern’s exit.
Richard watched their retreating figures with a smile.
Then, not far from the exit, the man in yellow, with a "bang," fell hard on the tavern’s floor.
The man in blue was stunned and hurried to help, but unexpectedly slipped, kicking the man in yellow precisely in the face.
The man in yellow cried out in pain, got up ready to lash out, then realized something was amiss. He initially thought Richard had purposely tripped him, but there were more than ten steps between them, and Richard’s legs couldn’t possibly reach that far.
After some thought without any clarity, the man in yellow accepted his bad luck, rubbed his face, and shot Richard a fierce glance. He then took the man in blue and left the tavern in a disheveled state.
Richard withdrew his gaze, shook his head internally, and said nothing. For him now, teaching petty thieves a lesson brought no sense of achievement. If not for the insulting words, he wouldn’t have bothered to punish them.
That was sufficient, a light punishment, hoping they would be wiser.
He thought this to himself as Sherlock had already called over the waiter to settle the bill.
After paying, Richard, Sherlock, and his petite maid Lucia left the tavern and headed to the streets, planning to find a hotel to stay.
By that time, the sky had darkened, the cold wind was howling, and the temperature was extremely low with few pedestrians. However, Richard’s senses were unaffected; as soon as he stepped outside, he keenly sensed two people quietly following them—not far from the tavern—it was the same two men who had stolen the wallets.
"It seems they aren’t as clever as I thought."
Richard thought to himself, no longer caring to guess whether they intended to threaten or seek revenge. With just a thought, he silently released a spell.
Walking, Sherlock suddenly looked behind toward the night and then turned to Richard with a frown, asking, "Hey, did you hear someone falling?"
"Did I?" Richard shrugged. "You must have heard wrong."
"Then let’s hurry, aren’t you cold?"
"Alright." Sherlock tightened his collar and quickened his pace.