Ritediran shook his body and shook Eshy's hand away with his shoulder. He frowned and dusted off the place that was touched by Eshu: "Be careful when you walk." At this moment, Tedilan was shocked by his soft tone, and then laughed dumbly. Quegfen's letter had arrived, which meant that the moment Brochette took the envelope, his days of being oppressed as a coachman's servant came to an end. The long-lost freedom was like a dawn piercing through the thick dark clouds, illuminating his heart. Even Aeshu, who almost knocked him down, couldn't afford to care—or rather, he didn't have the kung fu to care at all.

Rietediran hurried away. Eshua stared at the other man's back, his right hand hanging down at his side, clenching his fist lightly, and then quickly opening it, repeating it several times. He was reminiscing about the feeling of the moment when he was shaken open, and the opponent's power technique from the whole body to the parts was somewhat similar to his own—more precisely, almost exactly the same as the power technique when he opened the bow. But his bow skills were taught by an old drunkard, and if you go back to the roots......

“Bon voyage！” Essho suddenly shouted at Teddylan's back.

One of Teddillan's stepped feet froze in mid-air, and he turned around in some surprise, a friendly smile flashing at the corner of his lips, and he nodded to Eshy, "Merci."

"That's ...... Noldor's farewell message? Luciana poked Eshua with her finger, "The Royal Academy really lives up to its reputation, and any person you meet will speak such a standard Noldor language. ”

"He's not a Noldor, he's a Noldor elf." The old man's voice sounded behind them, "Those who can understand the Noldor language, it is difficult for the whole Pander to count a pair of hands, but I didn't expect that there are two standing at my door. Come and visit my little house, what's the matter? ”

Estheus and Luciana turned back at the same time: an old man with frosty white hair stood in front of them, looking at them with interest. The old man didn't know how long he had grown his beard, and hundreds of slender silver threads hung down on his chest like a waterfall. His facial features are soft and his face is kind, but time and experience have added a majestic temperament to him. He is not only an old man who can be approached, but also an elder who needs to be respected.

Brochette, who was born into a commoner and therefore did not have a surname. However, his position in the North is faintly equal to that of the Dukes of Livingston, as he holds the title of Dean of the Royal Academy, and the academic ring on his arm is strung with white stone beads that symbolize achievements in a certain field. And he is also quite famous among the adventurers of Pande. While most of the former deans of the Royal College were old scholars who were obsessed with academics and did not care about the world, Brochette did the opposite, taking the mundane as his main object of study. He compiled the "Pan Dezhi", which is divided into four volumes: "For Business", "Buwu", "Governing the Army", and "Engaging in Politics", which provides rare and valuable guidance for those adventurers who are in Pan De. Strictly speaking, Esher, who once relied on "Pan Dezhi" to identify celebrities and dignitaries, can also be regarded as his student.

"Hello, Dean Brochette." Luciana was rarely restrained, she bent her knees slightly, and performed a not-so-skilled imperial court salute, "I'm here to enroll." ”

"Southern accents? Are you the son of a nobleman sent by the Empire to communicate? A hint of surprise flashed in Brochette's eyes, "It's a little girl, and your father is really willing to let you go—wait a minute," his face suddenly sank, and his hand slid down his long beard, twisting repeatedly at the end, "Miss Noble of the Empire...... Speak Noldor...... Are you Luciana? ”

"That's right!" Luciana graciously admits that she is not surprised that Brochette recognizes herself, and although she is young, she has already made a name for herself in the academic world for her ability to independently translate Noldor literature. Scholars in the Pander academic community may not care about the change of power in countries – except in the fields of politics or history – or even bother to care about who became the president of the Royal College, but Lucienne Dukes's name shines above them like a bright and young star. They may not have linguistic beads strung around their arms, and most of them don't even know anything about linguistics, but they all look forward to the rising star reaching the peak of their own light, just as they look forward to every budding young scholar.

"Justes would have been willing to send his daughter all the way here......," Brochette let out a wry smile of helplessness, "Eldo doesn't know what medicine he took wrong, and he would let you come to Poimbro at this juncture." He casually criticized Gregory IV, but suddenly he realized that there was an inexplicable doubt in his logic: Luciana was the daughter of the current Archon of the Imperial Law, and her status was extremely noble, how could Gregory IV risk angering Justus and send her to Poimbul, who could be the front line of the conflict with the Misty Mountain tribes at any time?

Moreover, How did she make her way through the Vaal Snow Plains? Brochette glanced at Eshu beside her, and the two straight, slightly slender eyebrows were not Serda.

A dangerous possibility exploded in his mind like thunder, and Brochette stared at Luciana in amazement, his fingers still twisting his long beard unconsciously adding force, and several slender silver threads fluttered down the backs of his hands. He opened his mouth, his voice weak: "You'd better not tell me that you sneaked out without Erdo." ”

"This ......," Luciana stuck out her tongue, knowing that she couldn't hide it anymore, "I actually smuggled out of Isos without my father's knowledge. ”

"My God......" Brochette covered his forehead, "do you know what you're doing?" When he lowered his hand, his expression was already stern and cold: "Fortunately, Miss Dukes." Please forgive me for not being able to enroll you in the formalities, you need to ask for His Majesty's consent. Until then, rest well at the Duke's Palace. ”

Luciana smiled slyly, she fully understood Brochette's distress, but she was not about to give up, because she was sure that Brochette would not be able to refuse her request. "Please take a look at my tuition first." She pulled out three pieces of parchment, yellowed from her bosom, and handed them to Broschette.

"Even if it were a list of all Justes' possessions, I wouldn't—" Brochette's gaze fell impatiently on the parchment, and he couldn't take it off. He stared at them intently, and a frenzied fire gradually flickered in his eyes, like a warrior meeting a weapon, a prodigal son meeting a woman of his choice, burning away the harsh indifference of his previous past, leaving only pure desire. He solemnly stretched out his hands, carefully stroked the crumpled corners of the parchment, and after a long time he raised his head and said in a trembling voice:

"This is, the manuscript of Madigan's Long Prophetic Poem?"