Three days passed quietly amid intense preparations and undercurrents in King's Landing.
Silk Street, the avenue that gathered the desires and wealth of the Seven Kingdoms, welcod a completely unconventional new mber today.
Not far diagonally opposite the famous "Chataya's" brothel, a shop with an extrely eye-catching sign — full of strange geotric aesthetics and special effects — grandly opened amid deafening noise and countless curious, doubtful, and even greedy gazes.
The na: "Magic Goblet".
But at this mont, people's attention was not on the sign at all.
What truly detonated the entire street, and even drew people from several nearby streets stretching their necks to watch, were the eight cri-inducing scenery lines at the entrance.
Eight tall, curvaceous young won with beautiful or alluring faces.
They were wearing an outfit that no one in Westeros had ever seen, or even imagined, and were performing a special "display" at the door.
They wore headbands decorated with long fluffy bunny ears and had delicate makeup on their faces.
On their bodies… black corsets tightly wrapped their full breasts, and below were matching black high-waisted bikini-style shorts that outlined their flat bellies and rounded hips in a breathtaking way.
Their straight, long legs were either wrapped in smooth, mysterious black stockings that faintly revealed the color of their skin, or covered in sexy fishnet stockings where the white flesh showed through the sh.
The most shocking part was what they wore on their feet.
Pairs of shoes with thin, tall heels and strange styles that elevated their figures, making their leg lines even more beautiful. They swayed seductively as they walked, yet also looked like they were treading on thin ice.
This was the "Bunny Girl" outfit Luke had "transported" from Blue Star, slightly modified by him. In this dieval world without stockings, high heels, or generally conservative female clothing (except in certain special industries), the visual impact was nuclear-level.
The air seed to freeze for a few seconds, then erupted into a massive wave of gasps, exclamations, whistles, and crude comnts.
"Seven Gods above! What is that?!"
"My eyes… what are they wearing?!"
"Damn… why do I feel my nose getting hot…"
"My lower belly… feels a bit off…"
"Is this a new brothel? Too… too stimulating!"
The n's reactions were the most direct. From noble knights to rich rchants and rcenaries, regardless of status, their gazes were firmly glued to those black-stocking-wrapped, high-heeled, rhythmically swaying long legs, unable to move away.
Primitive desire was provoked in the most direct and blatant way.
Many who considered themselves high-status or had full wallets imdiately tried to approach, attempting to flirt or even make physical advances.
However, they were promptly blocked by several burly n in brand-new leather armor, holding short clubs, with fierce eyes.
These were the "tavern security" Luke had selected from his guard team.
"Gentlen, please show so respect!" The head of security, a scarred rcenary, spoke loudly.
"If you want fun, go to 'Chataya's' next door or anywhere else! This is the 'Magic Goblet' tavern! We only sell wine, not bodies! If you have no money to drink or want to cause trouble, get lost!"
The words were blunt and rude, imdiately angering several rich rchants or minor nobles who were already itching and thought highly of themselves.
"What did you say?! Do you know who I am?!"
"A broken tavern, pretending to be noble?!"
"Selling wine? Dressed like this to sell wine? Who are you kidding!"
Curses rang out, but the security guards didn't back down and even showed signs of drawing their weapons.
The conflict was about to erupt, attracting even more onlookers.
At this mont, the eight "Bunny Girls" seed to have rehearsed it. They all stopped moving at once, faced the street, and shouted in unison with clear, pleasant voices:
"'Magic Goblet' is officially open today with big discounts! All drinks 20% off! Welco all honored guests to co and taste!"
As the voices fell, the crowd erupted again.
So… it really was a tavern?!
The few rich rchants and nobles who had been blocked lost face and felt humiliated, but were also drawn by the "20% off all drinks" and the Bunny Girls, fueling even stronger curiosity or conquest desire.
"Good! Very good! I want to see what kind of divine nectar this broken tavern is selling to be so arrogant!"
A pot-bellied spice rchant pushed past the security and stord in angrily.
Others followed suit, surging inside as if to prove their status and regain face with their spending.
Tyrion Lannister also arrived at this ti with his two attendants, strolling casually.
His heterochromatic eyes were almost instantly "nailed" to those swaying, stocking-wrapped long legs at the entrance.
"Damn…" the Imp muttered under his breath, but the corners of his mouth curled into a playful smile.
"Luke, this kid… is a fucking genius! If I didn't know better, I'd think he opened a branch of a top-tier brothel!" His gaze was sharp; he imdiately saw deeper layers.
"Where is this just attracting custors to a tavern? This is clearly advertising his new products… those 'stockings' and 'high heels'… and the effect… is imdiate!"
Inside the tavern, it once again shocked everyone who entered.
The space was surprisingly spacious. Luke had combined two adjacent shops.
The decoration style was completely different from any tavern, inn, or even noble mansion in King's Landing.
A large amount of polished brass decorations and… mirrors! The bright candlelight and specially designed wall lamps and chandeliers, reflected by the mirrors, made the entire space unusually bright and transparent, completely changing the traditional tavern's dimness and smoky atmosphere.
The solid wood floor was polished smooth and coated with varnish, gleaming like a mirror.
The tables and chairs were no longer crude long tables and benches, but various stylish, smooth-lined solid wood tables and chairs, so with soft cushions.
The air was filled with a pleasant woody fragrance, wine aroma, and a faint scent of the cheap perfu Luke specially provided to the Bunny Girls.
The most eye-catching was the long, curved bar counter.
The bar itself was made of dark solid wood, polished smooth as a mirror.
Behind the bar was a huge wine rack reaching the ceiling, neatly displaying and hanging hundreds of various wine glasses —
From rustic wooden and pottery cups to crystal-clear glass ones, and even so shiny, unknown-material (stainless steel) strange cups.
In front of the bar were several brand-new oak barrels bound with copper hoops, labeled and filled with traditional ales, beers, etc.
But what made the crowd fall silent, then erupt into discussion again, were the clearly written "Price Lists" hanging on the walls and above the bar.
[Premium Dragon Fla (cup) - 10 Gold Dragons] [Entry Dragon Fla (cup) - 10 Silver Stags] [Champagne (cup) - 20 Silver Stags] [Brandy (cup) - 10 Silver Stags] [Whiskey (cup) - 15 Silver Stags] …
There was a long list behind, including various fruit wines and mixed drinks, with prices ranging from a few silver stags to several gold dragons.
"One cup of wine… ten gold dragons?!"
A ship owner from Braavos widened his eyes, his voice changing tone.
"Is this robbery?! Even the best Golden Wine from the Arbor wouldn't dare charge this price!"
"Dorne's Sumr Red isn't this outrageous! This isn't selling wine, it's robbing money!"
Another Reach rchant agreed, causing a buzz of agreent.
Behind the bar, several young bartenders in uniform black vests, white shirts, and ties had never seen such a scene. Facing the agitated, well-dressed guests below, their faces turned pale and their palms sweated.
Only one middle-aged bartender in his thirties, with a steady face and sharp eyes, remained calm.
He cleared his throat and raised his voice: "Honored guests, please calm down! All our drinks have clear prices and are genuine. If you feel it's not worth it, the door is on your left — there are plenty of good taverns with good food and wine!"
The words were neither humble nor arrogant, yet carried a hint of provocation.
"Good! Well said!"
A burly man in leather armor embroidered with a golden lion sigil — clearly a Lannister knight — pushed through the crowd.
He slamd ten shiny gold dragons onto the bar with a loud clink, his voice booming with typical Westerlands arrogance: "Give a cup of that motherfucking 'Premium Dragon Fla'! If it's not worth this price, I'll smash this broken shop today!"
All eyes focused on him.
The middle-aged bartender remained expressionless. He turned, carefully took down a beautifully shaped, crystal-clear dark glass bottle from the top of the wine rack, and brought out a much smaller, equally exquisite tulip-shaped glass.
He pulled out the cork. Instantly, an extrely rich, llow aroma of fernted grain and aged spirit spread out, instantly overpowering all other slls in the tavern.
Many people involuntarily sniffed, their eyes showing surprise.
The bartender steadily poured the liquid into the small glass, filling it perfectly, not a drop more.
The Lannister knight, seeing only this small cup, beca even more furious: "Just this little? I can finish it in one gulp! Ten gold dragons? I could buy ten big bowls of Sumr Red with that!"
The bartender gently pushed the glass in front of him, his tone calm but with undeniable confidence: "Ser, please… savor it slowly. This wine is extraordinary. I suggest sipping it slowly. Otherwise, the consequences are your own responsibility."
The knight was even more irritated by his attitude, but the unprecedented wine aroma had also aroused his strong curiosity.
He snorted coldly, picked up the glass, and first sniffed it suspiciously.
The aroma that shot straight to the brain yet was addictive made his eyebrows rise.
He no longer hesitated and tilted his head back to take a big gulp!
The next second—
"Pfft— cough cough cough!!!"
The mont the liquid entered his mouth, it was as if a concentrated ball of fla exploded in his oral cavity, burning all the way down his esophagus!
The knight's eyes suddenly widened to the limit. The color drained from his face, then surged back red!
He clutched his throat tightly as if unable to breathe. His whole body trembled uncontrollably. The wine glass in his hand beca unsteady, spilling quite a bit of the precious liquid.
He staggered back a step, bumped into the table behind him with a thud.
The entire tavern fell deathly silent. Everyone held their breath, watching him in shock and uncertainty.
Could it be… there was poison in the wine?!
It took four or five full seconds before the knight finally seed to catch his breath. He suddenly opened his mouth and let out a long, high-pitched, extrely shocked and satisfied roar:
"SEVEN—GODS—ABOVE—!!!"
The roar echoed in the silent tavern.
Then, as if afraid soone would snatch it away, he grabbed the remaining half-cup of "Premium Dragon Fla" on the table and protectively held it to his chest. Ignoring the gazes around him, he staggered to an empty table, sat down, and treated the glass like a holy relic. He brought it to his nose, inhaled deeply, then carefully sipped it bit by bit with the tip of his tongue. His face showed a complex expression mixing pain, ecstasy, and intoxication.
Silence.
Dead silence.
Then, with a "boom," the crowd completely exploded!
"What happened?!"
"He… he seems to be enjoying it?!"
"That wine… is it really that magical?!"
"Ten gold dragons… worth it?!"
Doubts, exclamations, and discussions boiled over.
But soon, they were replaced by an even stronger urge to try it.
"Give a cup of Premium Dragon Fla too!"
"I want two cups! No, three!"
"Money! Take it! Hurry!"
The crowd surged toward the bar, gold and silver coins clinking.
The middle-aged bartender and several young assistants suddenly beca extrely busy.
Every person who tried the "Premium Dragon Fla," whether an experienced old drunkard or a young noble just starting out, had similar reactions.
Initial shock, pain, struggle, followed by intoxication, ecstasy, and careful, treasure-like savoring.
The extrely strong wine aroma filled the entire tavern, tempting even more people.
Price? In the face of such extre sensory impact and unprecedented "status symbol," it suddenly seed acceptable.
In less than half an hour, when the middle-aged bartender wiped his sweat and helplessly announced to the twenty-first custor asking for "Premium Dragon Fla" that "today's stock of 'Premium Dragon Fla' has been completely sold out. Next restock will be in three days," the crowd went into an uproar!
"What?! Sold out?!"
"How much did you sell? How is it gone already?!"
"I already prepared the money! You tell it's gone?!"
"Are you looking down on us?! Deliberately hiding it?!"
The crowd was furious, and another loss of control seed imminent.
The bartender had to raise his voice again, using the prepared lines: "Honored guests, please calm down! It is not that our shop is deliberately hiding stock! This 'Premium Dragon Fla' is extrely difficult to brew. It requires secret thods to blend multiple rare materials, then magical refinent. The production is extrely low!"
"Our shop's master, Lord Luke Jacknien, exhausts all his efforts every day and can barely 'produce' one bottle! Today's quota is exhausted. There is truly nothing we can do!"
He paused, pointing at the other dazzling wine nas on the price list: "However, our shop has other fine wines from the sa magical realm, each with different flavors, equally rare in the world! Would you like to try them? For example, this 'Entry Dragon Fla' has a milder taste and a much more affordable price…"
Although dissatisfied, when they heard explanations like "magically produced" and "only one bottle per day," combined with Luke's previous miraculous goods and the "Heavenly Dragon" rumors, many believed it to so extent.
Plus, the prices of the other wines were indeed more "affordable," and they also emitted tempting aromas. The order in the tavern was barely maintained, though complaints and regrets continued nonstop.
At this mont, Tyrion Lannister squeezed to the front of the bar.
Though short, with the Lannister na and his attendants clearing the way, no one dared block him.
"Hey, boss!"
Tyrion's green eye glead. He directly took out a heavy money bag and poured it onto the bar with a clatter — a full two hundred gold dragons!
"Reserve for ! For the next month! Every batch of 'Premium Dragon Fla' that arrives, you must save one cup for ! This is the deposit!"
Two hundred gold dragons!
Just to reserve cups of wine!
This generous move shocked the entire place again.
The bartender didn't dare neglect him and quickly noted it down, respectfully promising to comply.
On the second floor of the tavern, in a elegantly decorated, soundproofed private room.
Luke was looking down through the window, satisfied with the explosive scene below.
Tyrion knocked and entered, plopped onto the soft sofa, poured himself a cup of "Entry Dragon Fla," and took a leisurely sip.
"Luke, I must say it again — you are a fucking genius!"
"Please call Second-Class Biscuit!"
Tyrion shook his wine cup, but his gaze seed to linger on the legs of the Bunny Girls downstairs.
"Those girls at the door… stockings, high heels… how did you co up with that? These two things simply amplify feminine charm to the extre! High heels make their figures taller and more graceful, and their walk becos incredibly seductive. As for stockings…"
He licked his lips, showing a smile that all n understood.
"The legs wrapped in them, that semi-transparent texture… it really makes one's heart itch! I bet that right now in King's Landing, from the haughtiest noble ladies to the cheapest prostitutes, all want a pair of your stockings!"
"I really can't imagine what Cersei would look like wearing them…"
He paused, looking at Luke with admiration and inquiry: "Your thods are always so precise and ruthless. Using those Bunny Girls to instantly attract everyone's attention, making the tavern famous, and at the sa ti pushing your new products — stockings and high heels — to the forefront."
"What do you call this? Using… 'celebrity effect'? No, those Bunny Girls have now beco 'celebrities'! Every move they make is like a carefully designed advertisent."
Luke smiled and sat down opposite Tyrion, also pouring himself a cup: "The streets of King's Landing… are too dirty. I always feel that a woman's ankles and calves should not be stained by filth. High heels can keep the hem of the skirt farther from the ground and maintain cleanliness."
"As for stockings, they can both shape the legs and provide so… protection."
He seriously spouted nonsense, then changed the subject: "As for what you called the 'celebrity effect,' your summary is spot on. In a mature comrcial system, this is called 'endorsent.'"
"If conditions allow, I should even pay fees to those noble ladies, famous courtesans… even the Queen, who first use and display my products, as their 'endorsent fees.'"
"Endorsent fees?"
Tyrion chewed on the new term, his green eyes shining brighter: "Pay them money so they wear your things and influence others to buy? Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Luke, how many of these… subversive ideas are in that head of yours?"
The two chatted for a long ti about business, fashion, and even so wild topics.
Tyrion was fascinated by Luke's endless stream of novel concepts and "foreign" perspectives.
Luke also enjoyed exchanging ideas with this highly intelligent, widely experienced "Imp," often sparking unexpected insights.
Late at night, the "Magic Goblet" tavern, which had been bustling all day, finally gradually quieted down.
After seeing off the last group of reluctant guests and closing the doors, the bartenders and servers began cleaning and tallying up with exhaustion but excitent.
When the final numbers were presented to Luke, even he was sowhat surprised.
On the first day of opening, in just half a day, after the 20% discount, the net revenue from drinks was — one thousand five hundred gold dragons!
Mainly from the various "famous wines." Traditional ales and beers didn't bring many gold dragons!
The "Magic Goblet" exploded in popularity. It was not just a successful tavern, but also a phenonon-level social venue and another money-sucking ace and fashion trendsetter in Luke's hands.
User Comments
0 comments from readers