The mist slowly rose up the roof with hot air, licking the smooth ice, and the Tirmoths were so skilled in building ice that they were at least far beyond the level of their tents, and each piece of ice fit together so perfectly that the surface was not even uneven by hand.

Brando soaked in the hot springs and watched at the mist—as the White Mist said, the Tirmothians who led the way had brought him here to bathe and change his clothes, and then arranged for him to meet the wise men—after all, meeting the wise men was a sacred ritual for the Tirmos.

He originally thought that there was no environment to bathe on this ice floe, I am afraid that most of them would have to take an exciting ice bath, and for the Tirmos people who were born with elemental level strength, there seemed to be no essential difference between taking an ice bath and taking a warm bath. But when he got to the place, he found that there was such a warm spring hot spring in the igloo built by the Tirmos.

Naturally, there is no geothermal heat on the ice floe, and this hot spring is mostly magically generated, and the Tirmoths don't need to maintain such a hot spring all the time, and this hot spring and even this igloo are mostly specially prepared for him.

Thinking of this, Brando couldn't help but feel a little flattered, he knew why the Tirmoths respected him, and for a while he couldn't help but be a little worried about whether these Tirmothians would be angry because of this after learning that they didn't actually have many resources to trade.

In the corner of the igloo is a stone basin in which the elves light meditation incense, which has a mysterious smell that rises from the embers and blends into the mist.

The mist in front of Brando's eyes seemed to turn into an illusion, revealing strange scenes in front of him, replaying scenes in front of him, as if he had re-enacted his experience after crossing over.

He saw the battle of the Ring of the Trade Winds, in which he had encountered enemies who were far less ferocious than those who followed. But that battle was the one he remembered the most.

At the same time, it was also the most difficult battle, and even the later battle of Ampesel, as well as the confrontation with the Empire, and the battle with Her Majesty the Queen, were far from the crisis at that time.

He couldn't help but reach out and touch the scar on his cheek, which had been left by the battle in the Ring of Trade Winds.

There are also scars on his chest and arms. These are the marks of many battles, and while there are many ways to erase them completely at Vaughnde, Brando doesn't bother to do so. It's not that some perverted aristocrats regard scars as medals, but simply feel that they are not necessary.

With a bang, he stood up from the water, and the water droplets on his body naturally rolled down the lines of his strong and well-proportioned muscles, and instantly dried up. He spread his arms and naturally draped himself in a gray cloth robe, which was not unlike the robe of the Tirmoths.

The goblins outside the house seemed to notice the changes in the house. They flew into the igloo, looked at Brando curiously, and flew around him two or three times before they landed on his shoulder. They held spices in their hands and carefully sprinkled them on Brando, Brando's nose immediately smelled a strange fragrance, his spirit shook slightly, and a system prompt immediately jumped out of his eyes:

"Gain 17,334 experience points."

That's exactly one percent of his total experience. Brando immediately understood what this spice was, and thought to himself. This spice is said to come from some elemental cetacean in the shallow seas, and its effect is to make people look at themselves clearly, and according to the player, it directly increases experience.

However, Brando had only seen the kind of meditation that had been made into incense, one that could be effective for a minute, and gain one percent of the experience of the current level per second, like these little goblins used so extravagantly. It was the first time he had seen him.

The experience tip was that a total of three jumps allowed Brando to move up a full level on the Templar and Frost Guard.

"What a luxury." He couldn't help but think to himself.

"Are you going to take me to the wise now?" He asked.

"The wise man wants to see you." The goblins replied in unison.

They obviously said the same thing, but they were different, and the voices they made were also chattering, which made people feel quite cheerful.

Brando wore a shawl woven of sharp seal fur - one of the necessary etiquette to meet a wise man. Naturally, he didn't understand, but with the white mist, he wouldn't be wrong. He walked out of the igloo, White Mist and Malocha were already waiting outside, Mias curled up in the mane of the crystal stag, she had been shallow for a long time, and she looked a little unaccustomed to the climate here.

Brando looked up into the distance, this Tirmose port was called Neverwinter Harbor, although it was only built on ice floes, but it was not small. It's not like a temporary place to settle down, as White Mist suggests, but rather a permanent city, at least Brando can see the seawalls, trestle bridges, and streets.

Cables of light passed through the great ice floe, through the clouds, and in the distance the gray sky and the windy sea—since they had entered the sea of mist, the shallow sea had changed its appearance, and had lost its former docile calmness and became manic.

He saw the Tirmose fleet in the harbor, dark and dreary, a bit like the leading warships of the Vikings, only larger and more spectacular. He also saw some Tirmoths, who had gathered in the square, not in many numbers, but there were twenty or thirty near and far.

These elemental beings were quite indifferent, and they didn't seem to be surprised by people's visits at all, except for the occasional 'gaze' or two, most of the time he didn't feel that anyone was looking at him.

Except for the elves.

Elves were everywhere in the camp, and they seemed to be more numerous than the Tirmoths, and Brando didn't know if this was normal or not, and he didn't ask White Mist, just that the elves themselves liked to live with the Tirmoths.

Besides, weren't the goblins who brought him here here earlier also inhabitants here?

The curious goblins hid here and there and quietly watched the uninvited guests, pointing and chattering curiously - mostly along the lines of: Is this human? How did they get here? I heard that humans are still divided into men and women? Is she male or female? What's that little white dot? and so on.

Seeing Brando come out, the white mist jumped on his shoulder and said angrily, "These little things are really annoying." ”

"It's not their fault." Brando replied unconcernedly, the elves were always curious. It's in their nature, but most of them don't really mean anything - though a few forest elves are very fond of mischief.

But he immediately stopped.

He saw a rare fire elf—a square not far away, and this square was certainly not like a human square, often either a fountain or a statue. The Tirmothians were their place of worship, and here stood a stone pillar with thick ropes tied with knots. There are also different patterns drawn on it with white dye. To the Tirmoths these knots were sacred, representing the heaviest events a clan had ever experienced, and of course only the wise could tell their origins in detail - and the leprechaun sat at the top of the pillar in the square, and although this pillar was not a forbidden place for the Tirmoths, the little creature who dared to sit on the most sacred place of others was still worthy of attention anyway.

The little guy had wheat-colored skin, short hair like a flame, and was naked and wearing a pair of shredded trousers. Barefoot. His eyes glistened like gold, and a belt ran through his shoulder, and the scabbard of a two-handed greatsword hung from his waist on the other side.

Of course, this sword was only about the length of a slap for Brando.

But a flame goblin with a sword is rare anyway.

No, it should be said that the fire goblins themselves are very rare.

Fire elves are subjects of Fcedus, they are arrogant, intelligent, inquisitive, and wary of humans. It's an outlier among the goblins. And it is said that most of the goblins are female, and only the flame goblins are male. They usually live in the flames of scorching streams and rarely come out into the world, let alone the shallow seas.

There is no fire element that does not hate water.

"It's really interesting." Brando glanced at the leprechaun.

The fire goblin seemed to notice them as well, but he just tilted his head to look this way for a moment, and then shifted his attention again. They don't like humans, and they don't have the curiosity of other elves.

In fact, the subjects of Fusedes were somewhat apathetic. It's not at all as passionate as the fire elemental bred.

"Did you notice that goblin too?" Bai Mist asked, standing on his shoulder.

Brando was following the group of goblins in front of him through the camp to the tent where the legendary wise man was, when he nodded and asked, "What?" ”

"Look at his scabbard, is it similar to the scabbard of the Flame Blade? You know that Odysphes is the holy sword of the fire element. The scabbard showed that he possessed part of the laws of Odysphes, a little fellow who was probably a direct descendant of Forsydes, a fairy prince. White Mist explained in a whisper.

"The fairy prince?" Brando was stunned, his knowledge of goblins was limited to their nature, and in fact, few people had an in-depth understanding of the organization of these elemental creatures, just as few players knew about the Tirmoths even in the past games.

"Fairy princes are common?"

"Common?" White Mist looked at him a little speechlessly: "It's extremely rare, the fairy royal family rarely appears outside, let alone the subjects of Fcedus, you have to pay attention later, this Tirmoth camp may be a little extraordinary." ”

Brando nodded silently.

By this time, the elves had already separated in front of him, lined up in two rows, and Brando stopped to see a huge tent in front of him.

However, the tent did not look like the shoddy huts he had seen along the way, but rather like a palace, supported by eight giant beast teeth, twenty or thirty meters high, and a row of steps paved with two or two opposing smooth animal teeth stretched from the tent gate to his feet.

Brando looked up and saw the guide he had met on the pier not far away—purely by the tattoos on his face, of course.

After all, it seemed to him that the Tirmoths almost all looked the same, except for the slight difference in height and the fact that they could barely distinguish between adults and children, and only the tattoos on their bodies were different.

Brando couldn't even tell the gender difference between the other party, and he once wondered if the Tirmoths really had the attribute of gender, but the White Mist told him that although the Tirmoths were elemental creatures, they still had sex differences, and they still needed to form families to reproduce the next generation.

Although others can't tell the difference between a man and a woman from the details, there is a simple way to do it, and that is that female Tirmos don't put tattoos on their faces.

Moreover, the tattoo is not a mark used to distinguish individual differences, but a status symbol; According to White Mist, the tattoo of the concentric circles on the face of the Tirmoth man who showed them the way indicates that it is at least one of the elders of the clan.

Only then did Brando know that these Tirmothians had sent an elder to guide him.

He saluted the other man—human etiquette is not common to many worlds and planes, but the meaning expressed in his gestures and gestures is the same.

The elder also saluted him, and then said something strange.

"He said the wise man had been waiting inside for a long time." White Mist replied.

"Just go in?" Brando asked, looking at the tent curtain.

"Of course, the Tirmoths don't have that much red tape."

"That's not much?"

Of course, Brando was not embarrassed to say this to his face, he only reached out and opened the curtain, and then the whole person was completely frozen.

In the tent, which was not spacious, there were three people standing from left to right.

On the far left is a woman, tall and thin, but with a graceful and luxurious temperament, with a silver crown on her head, a silk robe with the characteristic temperament of an elf, and a scepter in her hand, but the whole person is not a physical object, but a virtual image projected by magic.

This woman, Brando, knew that it was the queen of the tree elves he had met in the Evergreen Walkway, that is, the queen mother of the elves.

Beside her was a more cold-looking lady, with short hair, dressed in a more modest grey robe, without any ornaments, and even the belt that held the robe together was only a long linen rope. She was familiar with Brando's outfit, and the ascetics of Vaulnd were like that.

But Brando herself is more familiar than her outfit.

She is Elranta, the only human sage on earth after a thousand years of the Sage's War.

As for the third person, a little goblin with a laurel on his head, Brando almost ignored it, after all, compared to the previous two, this little goblin he had never met really couldn't attract any of his attention.

But before the sage and the elven queen could speak, it was the little goblin who spoke first.

And the person she was talking to wasn't even Brando, she looked fixedly at Marocha beside Brando, and said, "Mr. Marocha? ”

Brando froze.

Marocha was also stunned, and it asked in a daze, "Rose......?" ”

…… (To be continued......)