Simon, please have the Guards pull Ranmir up, holding his shoulders to prevent him from falling.
The drunkard faced him, yet didn't meet his gaze. His eyes were clearly looking at Simon, but his vision was unfocused. No one knew what he was thinking or seeing at the moment. He just stared blankly, fixedly at Simon's face. He no longer made those unpleasant and embarrassing noises, instead starting to snore.
"Ranmir, aren't you sober yet?"
Birna looked up, stepped beside Simon, her face full of an awkward mess, "Foodie Sir, Ranmir must be drunk, otherwise why would he go crazy trying to pick your lock? No one in all of Winterhold would do such a thing. Everyone knows you're our good brother, a good friend. It's just my good-for-nothing brother; he's drunk. He must have entered your shop looking for alcohol, but luckily he hasn't caused you any losses... I'm willing to apologize for him and won't let him come near your shop again. Please forgive him this once!"
The crowd grew noisy again. Some sided with Birna, others cursed Ranmir, a chaotic clamor like a flock of larks startled by wind and rain.
Simon's head ached from the noisy chatter, so he loudly declared, "Silence."
Collier, the Jarl of Winterhold Hold, had been silently standing outside the crowd, leaning against the food shop's door. At this moment, he squeezed into the throng, not speaking, just watching Simon.
The Troll looked around, especially at Collier who was watching the show. He then turned to examine Ranmir in his hands; the drunkard seemed a little sober, yet also not sober.
What punishment was required for breaking and entering?
The owner's losses would be compensated at original price, plus a fine.
This was in a big city. In a town like Winterhold, there was a more unique legal ecology, meaning 'human touch' was more prominent. Everyone hoped it would be as if nothing had happened, and that everyone would still be happy as usual.
Of course, paying compensation and a fine was possible, but it would undoubtedly dispel that unspoken bond of affection.
The crowd watched, silent, yet a strange smile seemed to play on their faces.
Simon asked Ranmir, "Why did you want to enter my shop?"
The drunkard rolled his eyes, "Alcohol, no money, drink."
The Troll nodded, "Do you know that my shop usually has nothing in it?"
"Ah!" Ranmir seemed to shiver, sobering up instantly. Then, drunkenness once again clouded his eyes, "I didn't know, I was wrong. Whatever you want to fine me, my sister will help me resolve it."
Birna's face turned red with anger. She stepped forward and grabbed her brother's collar. Simon saw the back of her hand turn white.
"You're a hopeless scoundrel! Let me tell you! If Foodie Sir doesn't forgive you, I... I won't have you as a brother anymore! Go live your own life!"
The Troll quickly stopped her, "How about this? Since I haven't suffered any losses anyway, and I see this Ranmir is idle, why not let him help me watch the shop from now on? I'll pay him fifteen silver coins and a bottle of vodka a week as compensation, how's that?"
Fifteen silver coins were enough to eat and drink for a whole week. The drunkard seemed to sober up just then, shouting, "Good!"
Birna's eyes were red with anger at her brother's shameless behavior. Simon sighed. The crowd became lively again, praising the Foodie's generosity and criticizing Ranmir's vulgarity.
The matter was settled. Everyone was happy, except for Birna.
Life continued peacefully. Three weeks after the theft, Birna suddenly visited Simon. The Troll was selling food and didn't have time to talk to her properly, only asking what she wanted.
Birna waited until the food shop closed, a full three hours. She had been huddled beside the house, in Simon's blind spot. When the Troll closed the shop and came out, he then noticed her, covered in snow, standing silently at the alley entrance, staring at Simon with a solemn gaze.
"What's wrong, Birna? Come in quickly and have a drink to warm up." The Troll was also startled. He took Birna's arm, intending to lead her into the shop for a drink.
Birna obediently entered the house. There was a small fireplace in the food shop, recently extinguished, still holding a faint residual warmth. Simon brought a bottle of vodka. The glass bottle was self-made; due to craftsmanship issues, it wasn't pure and had a mottled appearance, but the liquor inside was clear as a stream.
Birna took the glass but didn't drink, just watched Simon relight the fireplace.
"Foodie Sir, I've come this time to entrust my shop to you."
Simon was stunned by her words, stopping his work, "What?"
"Ranmir is truly too wicked. This brings shame upon me and my family, shame upon our ancestors. I plan to leave Winterhold and go south to earn money. The house and shop are both in my name. I want to transfer them to you."
"Oh!" Simon subconsciously replied, "This... have you made up your mind?"
"Yes, it's a very difficult decision, but staying in Winterhold is truly too embarrassing for me..."
"Don't go." Simon interrupted her.
"...Why? Do you think I'm afraid of danger? Am I not allowed to go out and make my way just because I'm a woman?"
"Anger has made you lose your reason. The way to deal with family is never as simple as just cutting ties."
"Ha!" Birna's lips trembled, wanting to say something, but she was too emotional, almost sobbing. She downed the vodka in her glass. The burning pain calmed her, "I've endured this scoundrel for over twenty years!"
"Yes, you are too kind. Everything you've done, including giving him money for alcohol, including promising to compensate me that day, including your current plan to leave home, is all enabling him and harming yourself." Simon's tone was flat.
"..."
"I usually don't reason with people. The young don't understand, and the old don't want to listen. But I still have to tell you the most real truth in the world—courage!"
Birna was in a daze, like a startled goose struck by lightning, mumbling "courage," unable to form complete sentences.
"Solve the problem at hand, then you will be qualified to face what's far away. Your brother, you must find a way to discipline him yourself."
The Troll placed the food shop keys on the table, then got up and left, leaving Birna alone at the table, muttering to herself.
As Simon left the door, he encountered Ranmir. The drunkard, unusually, was not drinking. He stood outside, apparently having overheard everything.
"Could I speak with you, Mr. Baishan?" he softly pleaded.
The Troll nodded, and the two walked towards the wasteland behind the house.
"My sister has always disliked me, I know that. But I haven't always been like this. When I was young, I also dreamed of leaving here and making something of myself, but it's too dangerous outside. I tried twice and failed, so I had to come back. I think it must be because I'm too poor to afford a good set of heavy armor, which is why I was beaten by bandits. I plan to borrow some money, buy some good weapons, and go see the world again."
Simon told him bluntly, "It's not about the equipment, you're too weak."
"Hmph! Impossible!"
"Truly, you can't even beat Jonas."
Ranmir's face darkened, and he quickly left, not wanting to endure any more of Simon's "insults."
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