"I can't die, I'm playing an empty string." Nuoldor threw the silk through the gap in the curtain, "But paralysis for a night is inevitable." ”

"Speaking of which, he's sort of a student of the Noisy, I thought you'd be gentle with him—uh, a little softer."

"What if he's Feng's adopted son?" Nuoldor said coldly, "I don't think he's any different from the lower three of the Pande. You should understand it this way: because Baranduke is a student of Feng, he can still leave a small life. ”

Randolph raised his horsewhip exaggeratedly: "Then ma'am, please allow me to say more, has the Noldor female elf who was captured by the Sentinels of Fort Shield have been rescued?" ”

"No, she's dead." Nuoldor said bluntly, "Randolph, as a groom, you have too many problems. Go eat with other people and don't disturb me. ”

But I was the leader of this team, not a groom...... Of course, Randolph didn't dare to say this, and the only one outside the Great Eastern Forest who was qualified to be on an equal footing with the female Noldor in front of him was his master, Pander Quegfing. However, his original mission was only to go to the Gatu steppes to negotiate and barter with a large warlord, and there was no need for Quegfin to be in charge of it. Randolph didn't even think that he would be intercepted by a noble Lord of Noldor not long after he left Larria, and then he would be inexplicably called as a groom. After putting the elven horse on the bridle of the horse, Randolph immediately released the silver king pigeon to urgently contact Quegfing, but the pigeon flew back with only a scribbled note tied to its leg: improvisation.

What should I do? Randolph almost scratched his thinning head. Leading six Noldor elves to Cato's territory? What's the difference between that and pouring lime powder into it? Don't look at these Noldor are quite sensible, they don't wear the highly recognizable Misrond standard armor, and they also use special pupils. But what else? Sigil bows, elven horses, and arrogant attitudes are quite eye-catching labels. After only a few days of getting along, Randolph had already begun to be worried, for fear that the mercenaries in the team would find out the identities of these uninvited guests.

Randolph actually knew that his worries were a little unnecessary, after all, there were few people on the continent who could deal with Noldor for as long as he did, and he knew these elven races that were indistinguishable from the Pander race except for the color of their eyes. It is precisely because he is too familiar that he is always suspicious. Fortunately, the Noldor elves rarely appear in front of the mercenaries - Riedylan is an exception, the banished elf has the same contempt for humans as his compatriots, but that doesn't stop him from sitting around the campfire with the mercenaries from the outer lands, drinking and playing dice. Randolph at first thought that Riedylan was being re-accepted by the Noldor, but that didn't seem to be the case, and the other Noldor rangers took turns changing guards around him during the march, seemingly watching over. Randolph looked at the story for a while, and realized that there might be something complicated—Riedylan was more of a prisoner, and his treatment was probably not much like that of the gladiators in the Imperial army who had been incorporated into the stormtroopers. However, his curiosity was not heavy, and he didn't bother to investigate it at all.

Goddess of Order, please bless all the best on this trip to the Gato steppe. Before eating, Randolph made a cross on his chest and prayed silently. But he had no appetite, and the tender venison steak chewed in his mouth like a dry and toothy wax block. Randolph didn't swallow and spit it out. He walked over to the carriage full of barrels and took a glass of ale and rinsed his mouth.

Tonight is likely to be another sleepless night. Randolph glanced at the carriage, and the culprit who had kept him awake was sitting in the carriage. Rafina Winter Aldalyan, the patriarch of House Ardarian, the youngest Noldor Lord ever in the Great Eastern Forest, and a member of the Elaclair Senate, is only below the demigod Israndil. If ill-intentioned people were to know that such a prominent figure had appeared outside the Great Eastern Forest, with only five rangers by her side, then Randolph could only pray that the bow at her hand should be as mysterious and powerful as the ancient legend had written, and that it could shoot flaming clouds from the sky and incinerate the army—if the last patriarch of the House of Ardarian had carried it with him while competing with Instructor Baker, perhaps the outcome would have been completely different. Randolph had heard of the terrifying battle at the Shield Fortress, and Saarion and Noldor decided to send out an excellent archer to decide the life and death of the rogue baron through a direct dialogue between a bow and an arrow. The consequences are well known, as Instructor Baker narrowly defeated Tildo Orago Aldarion, the father of Rafina Winter Aldarion. But few people know that at that time, Aoragorn was holding an ordinary Noldor compound bow.

Randolph sighed as he slowly sipped the remaining half glass of ale. A Noldor Ranger quietly walked up to him and said coldly, "Your Excellency passed you over." ”

Randolph's hand shook, and he almost choked on a sip of wine from his nose. "Are you here to talk or are you here to assassinate?" He glanced annoyed at the rangers who had come to deliver the message, and smashed the glass into the other's arms—he didn't dare to offend Aldaryan, but that didn't mean he had to put up with the Noldor rangers who were the guards. After all, Randolph is also Quigfing's agent, and he really doesn't care about ordinary Noldor elves. The Ranger didn't care about Randolph's attitude, and casually slapped his wine glass into the grass beside him. Randolph glared at the other man again and walked over to the carriage.

"Ma'am, do you have any orders?"

"Come in." Ardarian's indifferent voice came from the curtain.

Randolph sat nervously in the carriage and found that his bookcase had been turned out, while Aldarian was holding the First Volume of High Art, sometimes frowning, sometimes smiling with disdain.

"I know it was Quegfin who brought Feng back to the salt mines in Aziz." Aldarian didn't look at Randolph squarely, and casually flipped the pages of the book, "According to the merchant's temperament, it is impossible for him not to record the specific route. I wonder who is in charge of the map, you or Fenyx? ”

"It's me." Randolph told the truth.

"You can make an offer."

"A Dragon's Tear Gem."

The spine of High Art Volume 1 suddenly deformed, and Aldalian raised his eyes coldly from between the pages: "What do you mean?" ”

"Don't get me wrong, noble lady, I didn't mean to entertain you." Cold sweat began to ooze from Randolph's back, and he quickly explained, "But this is the price set by the owner himself, and only this asking price can make up for the expenses of taking care of the noisy people in the first place." You can't bargain, and you can't take credit. ”

"......" Aldarian was silent, but his expression had eased a little. She thought for a moment and pointed to the wolf axe in the corner of the carriage: "Can the things of Vijovis be mortgaged?" ”

"This ......," Randolph remembered that Esher was still lying on his stomach in a corner of the camp outside, and cold sweat began to ooze from his back again. He squeezed out a dry smile, "You're kidding, Vijoves' tomahawk isn't something that can be handled by just one person. How can a worthless object be traded? But—" Randolph gritted his teeth, and the conversation shifted, "forgive me for the next offend, for a purely businessman point of view, I think your Bow of the End will be a more valuable commodity." As soon as the words fell, Randolph's whole body stood on the cold hair, like falling into an ice cave. Ardalian put down the book and his gaze fell directly on him:

"Randolph, running errands for Pander Quegfin does not mean that you are entitled to ask for my forgiveness when you speak, much less that you are entitled to speak out of your offense before asking my permission. The hypocritical rhetoric of your Pandes only makes me sick to my stomach. Aldalian said coldly, High Art Volume 1 turning into a thick and crumpled pile of waste paper between her fingers, "Don't make an example, otherwise it won't be the messenger who will come to you quietly, but the assassin." You're good to go. We set off at dawn. ”

"Understood." Randolph was deeply in debt. As he stepped out of the carriage, he let out a long sigh and found that the cold sweat had wet the hem of his shirt. If there was another option, Randolph would certainly not say that, but he knew that if he didn't change the subject, Aldalian would probably have to buy and sell with him. But after being a trader for so long, Randolph not only knows how to negotiate a deal, but also knows how to negotiate a deal – as long as he subtly pokes at the other party's sore spots. It's just that he poked a little hard tonight, so he didn't get his life into it. If Aldalian had really killed him for his earlier offensive words, Quegfin wouldn't even have done justice for himself - because in a way, he was at his own expense, treating the Noldor treasure as a commodity to trade, and no elf in Eraclay could endure such a disgrace.

I really didn't expect to be able to get out of the way, maybe the goddess of order is really taking care of me. At the thought of this, Randolph's stomach "gurgled", and he remembered that he hadn't eaten much for dinner. He called to his attendant and commanded in a brisk tone, "Go, get some pieces of venison and roast, and pour me some fine wine." ”