The cold moonlight shone silver light on the streets of Worms, and the whole street was deserted, and the guards who patrolled daily took advantage of the darkness of the night to find their familiar places early and go fishing. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

In an inconspicuous small building, the dim candlelight was still burning hard, and the wax tears that flowed down condensed into a ball wrapped around the candle roots, as if a pale hand wanted to grasp something.

There are two people sitting in the room, or one person standing, and one person is more appropriate to sit.

Sitting in a mahogany chair was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a flat head and brown hair pale blonde in the candlelight.

His face was resolute, his face was covered with scars, his rough skin seemed to have been polished with sandpaper, one hand was gently propped up on the table beside him, he was plucking the candlestick with his fingertips, and the other seemed to be casually placed on his lap, but he was in the most comfortable position to draw his sword, no one would believe that he could pull out the long sword hanging from his waist in the next second.

The man was wearing an old leather armor, not a popular style in Worms, and there were even traces of stitching on it, which was definitely a piece of equipment of considerable age, but it did not prevent the owner from liking it, and this kind of armor usually had a special meaning for warriors.

The wallet was lined with an ordinary linen coat, and the man wore it quite thickly, perhaps covered with cotton armor inside, and the lower body was not covered by a skirt armor, but a pair of coarse cloth trousers tied with layers of dirty leggings.

Behind him was draped in a dark brown cloak that was almost worn white, and his waist was straight, and he sat in a chair without saying a word, but there was an iron and blood rush in his face, and anyone who saw him for the first time would have thought that this must be a veteran.

"Jason, why haven't your men come back yet?" spoke to the man who was standing, not standing still, but pacing back and forth in the middle of the room restlessly.

He looked to be about thirty or forty years old, and wore a knee-length robe cut from thin satin, which was long and flowing and slender, and was specially custom-made to fit his body, but the face of the owner of the shirt was not as elegant as his dress.

The slender eyes seemed to be half-squinted and half-open, and he looked up at the door from time to time, and the bridge of his nose was raised so that the facial features on the whole face were clear, and it could be seen that he must have been a handsome person when he was young, and the two specially kept eight-point mustaches on his mouth proudly skimmed to the left and right, and they seemed to be carefully cared for.

The satin robe on the upper body was also covered with a waistcoat sewn from thin leather, and on the pocket of the vest's chest was a crystal lens, and at one end of the lens hung a glittering gold chain, the chain was very long, so that the owner could hold the lens in his hand from time to time to play.

At this time, the man was gently holding it in his palm, and his two hands were restlessly reversing the lens back and forth, as if this would reassure him.

Seeing that Jason didn't reply, still fiddling with the brass candlestick with his fingertips, the mustachioed man came over with some excitement, put the lens back into his vest pocket with one hand, and waved up and down with the other hand and shouted:

"Jason - don't forget! You promised me absolutely nothing, but you still let him run back - and now I've waited so long and I haven't even heard a letter, and if something happens, don't think you can stay out of it!"

"Are you scared?" Jason raised an eyebrow as he sneered, glancing at the man in front of him.

"I'm a businessman......" The man blushed his neck to explain, but was simply interrupted,

"So the first time you did something to kill someone, you were a little nervous?" Jason withdrew his finger from the side of the candlestick, tapped lightly on the table, and said lightly:

"Take it easy, Seraphim—I killed a lot more people during the Frost Moon War than I did today. ”

"But it's not you!" Seraphim cried out with some excitement, perhaps realizing that he was overreacting slightly, he took a step back and muttered:

"Don't talk about the Frost Moon War - the kingdom of Loland has been gone for twenty years, and now the fox flag of Lefeble flies over White Lake City. ”

Jason's fingers tapping on the table paused and hung in the air, he stared coldly at Dejan Seraphim standing in front of him, and said to him calmly, "It's the Silver Castle, my friend - whatever his name is now, it is the Silver Castle of the Kingdom of Lorain in my eyes." ”

The air suddenly became a little colder, and Seraphim straightened the hem of his silk robe, not daring to look at Jason, he chose to divert the topic and shifted:

"Say whatever you want, but we're not talking about this - but about - "

Before he could finish speaking, there was a powerful knock on the wooden door, and Serafington was there, stopping to complain.

"Come in. Following Jason's order, a young mercenary entered outside the door, wearing an unformed set of leather armor and a broad-bladed sword pinned to his waist, and as soon as he entered, he knelt down on one knee in front of Jason, and reported nervously:

"Commander...... Just received the message - the target has fled......"

"What-!" Seraphim, who was standing next to him with wide eyes, jumped up, didn't even care that the crystal lens in the vest jumped out, it seemed that he was going to step forward and grab the mercenary's collar and ask carefully, but after estimating the equipment and body gap between the two sides, he stopped his next action in a daze, and turned back to stare at Jason in a daze.

"Got it, where did they go?" asked Jason Spessa unhurriedly.

"It is said that he escaped into the sewers of Naka Ward. The young mercenary replied hurriedly.

"I see, you go down. Jason waved his hand and let the mercenary out of the house, and Seraphim hurriedly jumped up to him and asked nervously:

"Didn't you say there was no problem? How did you let him run? You sent so many men, all of them elite mercenaries that you claimed to be experienced—why did you let a fat man who was weak and didn't know how to fight run away?"

With a "bluff", Jason Speza got up from his chair, and only after he stood up did he show his tall height, about a head taller than the mustachioed merchant in front of him, and Seraphim was so frightened that he retreated seven or eight meters away

"You...... What are you going to do?" asked the nervous businessman, trembling.

"Go to the sewers and get them back—" Glancing at Dejan Seraphim out of the corner of his eye, Jason strode out of the room, his leather boots "soaring" on the ground, stepping on the candlelit shadows.

The merchant who was left behind him had a gloomy face, and he snorted softly, and quietly cursed as if he were speaking to himself: "What is the spirit—it's just a lonely ghost who has lost a battle and lost his country!"