Farina! Farina!

Orwell felt like the world was bright.

His breath was short, his palms were sweaty, and his heart was pounding, causing his skin to tremble together.

His fingertips trembled slightly, he stumbled as he walked, and he nearly slipped and fell down the stairs - only then did a cold sweat calm him.

It was an indescribable joy. There was a hot stream of heat flowing down his back, reversing from his tail vertebrae back to the back of his neck, giving him a tingling sensation of pleasure like an electric current.

By the time he went downstairs, he had already rehearsed in his mind what it would be like when he and Falina first met. Every emotion, every gesture she makes, emerges in Orwell's imagination. Wounded, cursed, senile, high-spirited, fanatical...... Any one of these possibilities crossed Orwell's mind.

The only thing in common is that he will definitely not hurt Farina. He didn't care what became of Farina.

The scent of Farina's hair brushing her cheeks, the softness of her body, and the soft and weak smile that always hung on her lips made Orwell unforgettable. She was the first person Orwell had ever liked in his life, and the only one he had ever really pursued. The mere thought of the memories of being with Falina makes me feel incomparably sweet, and the thought of meeting after several years makes Orwell's heart stirred with excitement, excitement, and uneasiness.

But when he reached the door of the study, he couldn't help but hesitate.

The tip of his right finger had just rested on the handle, but it "crackled" as if it had been hit by electricity.

Orwell's fingertips twitched slightly...... Eventually, he slowly withdrew his hand.

Afraid that Falina inside would hear her voice or discover her presence from the shadow cast by the doorway, Orwell tiptoed back two steps, trying his best to suppress his heavy breathing, holding on to the wall and gasping very slowly, adjusting his breathing.

He stood quietly at the door of the study. Gently shook his right hand firmly in front of him, silently driving away the attendants around him. The attendants and maids nodded heartily, and silently ran to the side with small steps.

Orwell watched everyone out of his field of vision before he reached out and pressed his heart that was about to jump out. External pressure makes it jump as slowly as possible, and then slowly.

There was a silent gasp for about a dozen seconds. Orwell gradually calmed down.

With trembling fingers, he took out the small transparent bottle from his bosom, and uncorked it very slowly, lest the contents spill out.

Upon contact with the air, the transparent and colorless liquid inside quickly turned into a brilliant golden viscous liquid, condensing at a speed visible to the naked eye. As the concentration increases, the color darkens, and in three or four seconds it turns into a syrup-like amber color.

Orwell hesitated, then swallowed half of it without hesitation, then carefully plugged the plug back again.

This is an alchemical concoction called a potion of charm. It was a gift from the old man who lived in his house.

Orwell, of course, had someone to do the experiment. Even if you only eat a little bit, you will have an extremely obvious charm bonus when communicating with people. If you eat half of the bottle, it is almost equivalent to constant friendship and goodwill. Bewilderment.

It was because Orwell needed this thing that he took the old man in.

He had found someone to investigate, and the old man with the pseudonym "Edward" was actually an astrowizard. His real name was Tanas, and he was a harmless kind of wizard.

According to Orwell's investigation, "Edward" was a real learned wizard with less than five lives. Not to mention by wizard standards. Even by the standard of a normal gold-level powerhouse, it is too weak and kind.

The behavior of such an old wizard who defected to Orwell's side to hide from the gods was quite in line with his identity.

After all, Orwell was one of the very few heretical nobles who did not reject wizards. Because of his rebellious romance with Farina. His communication with Baita is definitely not small.

As an earl, Orwell certainly wouldn't think that wizards were evil and priests were foolish, as fools did. After all, these news were all shown by the druids to the people at the bottom, and if even a powerful earl didn't know the hidden truth, then Caral held the jujube pill.

In Caral, even more than eighty percent of the people do not believe that there are gods in this world. In their opinion. Priests are fanatical fools or devil-believing liars, and these fellows are just as evil as wizards, except that one has the power to heal and the other has the power to kill, and there is no difference in them.

If there were a God in this world. Sanction those druids first? Druids believe in nature, fight for the harmony of the world, and derive divine magic from the divine power that flows from the earth. If there really is a god in this world, then let them sanction the earth?

That's why it's hard for the priests to break into the interior of Caral anyway. There were two problems that the priests could not solve—one was that their history was much shorter than that of Dyud, and the other was that they could not prove the sanctity of their gods.

No matter how much they proclaim the power of the gods, they really can't use powerful magic in this realm. The fact that a bronze druid can beat a silver priest is a testament to their weakness.

They can't even prove the existence of the gods. Because of the shield of the Great Enchantment, the gods couldn't see what their followers were doing, and they couldn't pass on what they said.

An even more serious problem is that the gods can't stop the druids from getting their hands on the magic. Their priests were also unable to crusade against the druids. This act in itself is tantamount to declaring that the existence of the druids is permitted by the world - and the truth is that there is no such thing as a rule against the druids in their possession.

Of all the gods, there is no priesthood that is directly related to abundance, earth, and harvest. For the part of the authority they received at the beginning was incomplete.

Claiming to be gods but unable to prove their sanctity and authority in heretical lands - this alone would make the sane and mature Khalar people not believe in the existence of gods. Even if they admit the existence of the gods, they only respect them as strong rather than believing.

It is only in the depths of Karar, in the deserted and enclosed villages, that there is a temple of a god. These temples are hidden in the depths to train a group of Kalal priests to prepare for the war that may occur in the future.

Marco, for example.

He was a very typical Carral priest. Although belief in the gods. But he was also despised by the gods because of the blood flowing on his body, and was disgusted by his colleagues. These Kalal priests are to be tried to stay in the closed mountains, cutting off any contact with the outside world as much as possible, in order to make them lose their sense of belonging.

Their usefulness is to blend in with Karar's army in future holy wars. After all, in this xenophobic and closed country, it is really difficult for people from other countries to break in.

But that was just a "planned war". It's still hard for the two sides to really fight.

After all, the priest and the Templars could not actually enter Carral, and the cursed Doyd could not clash with the gods head-on - it was this awkward situation that kept the peace between the two sides. It would not be possible for Karal to be surrounded by the sphere of influence of the gods.

Bansa did call. However, without spellcasters, they were almost wiped out after a few magic spells were smashed by the druids and the Druids...... However, when the Bansa King wanted to send a priest to assist in the crusade, he did not ask for it because of his stiff relationship with Tyre.

But while the Karars were largely invincible, the Doyds had not forgotten the oath they had made when they were defeated.

They can't clash head-on with the pastors. Once contacted, it is bound to fail.

Faced with the armies of the gods, they could only resist with the armies of mortals. The good news is that because the Druids have deliberately distinguished between the Druids and the Bards over the years, some Druids are no longer bound by the oaths they took back then.

This is also a secret that very few people in Carral know. And this is also the confidence of Orwell to dare to receive Tanas.

They are worthy of gods.

If the army of the gods came over, it would give them a chance to dismount in a grand manner.

While the druids may not be bound by the oath for the rest of the day, the only time they can really play their role is when they use this strange force for the first time.

If you use them when the gods are attacking with all their might. It will inevitably give the gods a thunderous blow.

…… Of course, the premise is that they come well and don't sneak attack. After all, druids are scarce in number and high in status. It is difficult to integrate them into the regular army, and they can only act in a special squad manner.

In the face of an army without any spellcasters, whether it is activating thorns, wild feasts, poisonous swamps, or the force of nature, they can be easily wiped out. From the very beginning, the druids intended to achieve a kind of individual military purpose, and now, this goal is more or less preliminary.

The Caral now need a counter-attack. They need a hearty victory to show the world that the people of Karar have stood up.

Since the intention is to be Liwei, then there is no chance to be more effective than when the gods have just finished their crusade against the White Tower and their morale is at its peak.

Even if the druids had broken them, the druids wouldn't have been able to chase them out of bounds - not even across the border. Just get out of the city and into the wilderness on the outskirts. Priests and Templars who have left the Great Barrier will be able to use their magic as normal.

This is also Sekosaffin Black. The reason why the gang is very hateful but there is no way to punish it. Ordinary people can be very troublesome to deal with these clergy who are entangled in groups, and once the druids leave the confines of the Great Barrier, it will be a fair battle without any enchantment assistance. For the druids who can wipe out thousands of people in a small group within the barrier, even if one person is exchanged for five Sekosaffin blacks. The help is so lost that it can't be lost anymore.

In fact, Orwell also had his considerations for letting "Edward" stay here.

In fact, he wanted to get people to secretly spread the news that the wanted old wizard was in Richero.

With Marquis Saya here, even if there is a wizard to save "Edward", Orwell can find a way to stabilize him. If there really is a knight to crusade against him. Orwell can set up a game and let them jump in on their own. All it takes is a little provocation for the contradictions to intensify.

Then Orwell could have taken advantage of the university to kill him and hide him, and then claim to the temple that he had not seen these people—

This act of opening one's eyes and telling nonsense can easily provoke the gods. It would be nice if they really sent the Templars to fight Orwell. The Blighters will kill them silently. Dump the corpse in the field and then let them "accidentally dig up" as a way to prove their innocence.

Then, war can easily break out. When the Templars came and the war really began, Orwell would be able to retire with all his might.

Wait until the army of the gods has routed the vanguard army of Carral. When the pressure came over, Orwell could use the druid to knock them down in one go. Let the withers quietly bury their bodies thinly.

When the news spreads again, they will have to fight if they want to, and they will have to fight if they don't want to.

Orwell was a master of archery, horsemanship, and even swordsmanship, but he was still a pure administrator, a noble nobleman, not a warrior.

Count Orwell didn't realize how many people his plan would cost him. All he knew was that it would bring honor to the family and would bring more benefits to Carral than could be told for generations. For Orwell. That's enough.

After waiting quietly for three minutes, Orwell felt the effect of the medicine come up. A dizzy feeling flooded his mind, and Orwell seemed to feel something in his body, his fingers trembling even more, and his vision began to blur.

Fooled - and possibly dropped......

In short, this is definitely not a powerful charm potion.

By the time Orwell realized this, his body had begun to get a little out of control, and his mouth was unconsciously grunting something strange. Orwell felt like he had just gotten into a marshmallow ball, accidentally mixing his left foot with his right. I almost fell to the ground. And before that, his body had smashed against the door.

Soon there was a sound of stomping inside.

Orwell stared at the door with a flushed face. But the person who appeared in the end made his whole heart cold a lot.

- Not Farina.

Farina's temperament should be gentle, kind, and gentle, not as cold as flowing mercury, as viscous as blood.

“……”

Just as Orwell opened his mouth to speak, his mouth moved, but nothing came out.

"Lord Earl, I mind myself......"

The black-robed man standing in front of him was only halfway through his words. That black-robed druid's face changed dramatically!

Rumble!

The sound of flames blowing wind was heard. Before he heard the sound, Roland quickly turned around to avoid it, but in the end, a stream of fire pierced his left shoulder, and he could even see a crossover through the burnt and curly surface.

He clutched his shoulders tightly, his face pale, and his whole body trembled with pain.

His health bar went down a third of the way at once. That's not a lot. You must know that Roland is a first-class resistance to high temperatures.

It was undoubtedly Earl Orwell who launched this attack.

What shocked Roland even more was the Earl of Orwell.

His chest and abdomen felt as if they had been hit by a hot fireball, and his stomach, liver, and most of his lungs had almost completely evaporated, and his heart was slightly scorched when he looked through the burned hole.

With his face up, he collapsed in the hallway across from his study, his eyes wide open and his mouth wide open.

The reason why he was so far away from Roland was because he got the recoil of the magic cannon that rushed out of his stomach.

Otherwise, he should lie in the doorway.

"Don't move!"

"The people inside! Don't move! ”

But at this moment, the butler's shouts came, without the slightest fear or shrinking from before.

Taps, taps, and footsteps can be heard from not far away. At a cursory glance, there were about forty or fifty people, all of whom were good players.

Roland immediately understood his current situation.

_I've been framed!

It's a set! A trap set with an earl as bait!

Maybe the earl was already dead, but his body exploded in front of Roland......

However, who would believe Roland when he said to someone, "I'm standing at the door, and your master blew himself up"?

The evidence is conclusive, the scene is very clear, and there is nothing left to quibble.

Looking at the signal flares raised outside and the guards that quickly gathered over, Roland's heart was calm, and he even wanted to laugh.

Good game. But it didn't work for Roland.

"Just these people want to stop me?"

Roland smiled solemnly. (To be continued.) )

PS: Today's plot is not very easy to dismantle...... I'm just two in one

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