"I have!" cried Monroe, his voice full of empty arrogance and real cowardice, and he knew very well that he had nothing, no power, no money, no strong body and no good looks, and that even the most important symbol of men had gone from solid and permanent to weak in the first twenty years of debauchery - his lover was in fact just a light-business, old, ugly and outdated prostitute who often pinched the little flesh worm and "praised" He was Rosada's most loyal and chaste servant, for he could not do what he wanted to, and he was a poor and useless old rooster, who had advised him more than once to find work in the Dragonfire Islands to the south, where the lords were accustomed to using eunuchs to manage their wives and concubines.

"I know you have," said Flo's priest, who hid with her behind a laurel tree with a huge canopy, with Monroe sitting on the ground and Flo's priest lying between his legs, "good man," she said with a smile, one hand sinking into the white robe of the Rev. Rosada, "I tasted it last night, and it was so powerful that it scared me, but you know, that's not what I'm talking about." ”

The fragrance of ** made his mind swell, and he thought dizzily, he had, he had to have, he thought that there was also a holy emblem in his room, Rosada's holy emblem was pure gold, inlaid with sunstones, and reflected a scorching light like the scorching sun against the light energy, he could give this to her, and then go and tell the senior pastor that he had lost the emblem. He may be punished, but not severely, and he deserves something for his service to Rosada for nearly forty years.

"You ......" He opened his mouth only to find that the erect heat in his body made the mucous membrane of his tongue and palate tightly together, and he felt a slight tingling pain when he pulled it down, but he didn't care so much: "You brought that...... Oil?"

How many years, four, five years, years had it been since he had rejuvenated the oil that had rejuvenated him again and again, and the wonders for which the lascivious Reverend Flo had gone wildly and collapsed—she had gazed at him with burning eyes like a lover, and had grasped his arms and shook her hips bewitchingly over him? For the first time he had tasted the familiar, long, and exhilarating sweetness of the familiar, long, and dripping with sweetness, he wept, and bit his soft breasts, and his ears were filled with longing cries and pleadings. Oh my God, oh my God, how to describe him, in that moment, he was the senior pastor, he was the lord, he was the king, he was the all-powerful God!

Flo's priest twisted his waist so that he could see the gold chain around his waist, and a small leather pouch on top of it in addition to the bell.

"Now?"

"Now!" Monroe grabbed Pastor Flo by the waist, his fingers digging deep into her skin, he sniffed the scent of the woman's neck socket, his nose arching greedily like a pig, humming, his wet tongue licking the smooth flesh, and constantly biting her with his teeth, biting blood.

The pain made Flo's priest tremble instinctively, and she took a deep breath, cleverly hiding her disgust and impatience before opening her eyes, "Not now. ”

"Why?"

"I'm going to worship our goddess. ”

Monroe almost roared, but as a priest, he bit his tongue in time: "Isn't dedicating oneself to love the best way to worship Flo?"

"The best is never in the way, but in the piety," Frow's priest pushed him away forcefully, and she stood up, tugging at the wrinkled silk robe, "I'll come to you again." ”

"When?"

"Tonight," she said, throwing Monroe a seductive smile, "you're going to open the door for me, will you?"

"It's raining. Said the lich.

"yes. Ilda said.

The rain came silently, and the seven-pointed leaves of the fissure maple obscured most of the sunlight and the changes in the clouds, and at first they were only a slightly thicker mist, which condensed on the surface of the leaves, and as the water vapour gradually became thicker, the accumulated weight became heavier and heavier, so that tiny droplets of water fell from the leaves and seeped into the cracks of the trees, the roofs, the guardrails, the drawbridges that swayed in the wind, the wings of birds and insects, the hair and clothing of elves and half-elves.

As the wind blew the leaves away, the squirrels looked up, and what they saw were gray clouds so low that they could reach out.

The lich and Ilda sat face to face, separated by a foldable table with chessboards and pieces that belonged only to the elves.

Humans and orcs also have similar board games - all the kind of chess that humans have that resembles the world of otherworldly souls, kings, queens, Castles and knights, sixty-four black and white squares, even the rules are very similar, only in subtle ways to change according to the preferences of the country or magnates, the orcs call them war chess, the chess pieces are fierce beasts or birds, in their rules, killing the king is not the final game, only when all the pieces of one side are slaughtered is considered victory, some orc nobles will also use captives to play chess, and the losing pieces will be actually killed or eaten.

As for the elves' favorite, as far as the otherworldly souls are concerned, it is more like a combination of Go and craps, they use a thirty-two directions of the rose compass, and the player takes turns to move the pointer once, and the piece must land in the direction of the pointer. In the huge disc, there are 676 densely packed radially arranged, slightly concave dots, you can choose any position (as long as the direction is correct), the direction is full and the pieces cannot fall, and the pieces that are surrounded by the opponent's pieces of different colors will be brought out of the board.

There are many ways to determine the winner, the simplest of which is to count the pieces left on the board, and the more one wins, and the more complex ones are more varied - the soul of the other world does not want to go into this article, because he thinks that they are designed to create dense phobias and revenge on society.

The Lich is a great man, and like the Elves, he is a master at it, and if he ever fails, it is probably to blame fate - just as the spirits of the other world once secretly teased, and fate seems to like to joke with him and have some fun.

"This is the thirteenth north-western micro-north. Ilda rubbed her chin, though she didn't have a beard, "If you're on a ship, and that ship sails every day in the direction you're turning, you've probably circled the entire continent for a week. ”

"Then this ship has to travel thousands of miles a day. The lich said unpleasantly.

Ilda stretched out her finger and turned the compass pointer, which spun briskly, until finally settled in the grid of the north-northwest and north-west, where Ilda glanced sympathetically at the lich and happily landed her piece on the last dot.

The Lich turns the hands - the fourteenth time, north-west.

"Do you want to say something? Cremar?"

The lich didn't want to say anything.

"Try a different compass?" said the otherworldly soul.

"Eat some sugar?" Ilda suggested, in exchange for a sharp glance.

"Don't be complacent, elf," the lich said grimly, "it's still a long time before the game ends." ”

"Well, that's right. Ida replied, smiling sincerely, from the heart - Cremar was serious most of the time, so she looked especially cute when she was occasionally childish—and when she spoke of childishness, the female elf couldn't help but think of another mage, who tried to resist the urge to sigh, but failed.

But today's game was destined to be indistinguishable, and just when there were only a few dozen blank dots left, someone brought a message and an order from the administrator - they found the trace of the assailant, and one elf almost became the third victim to be disemboweled.

Ilda is one of the most prominent rangers in Greyridge, and she is indispensable as an important pawn in this crucial game.

She gave Cremar a doubly apologetic look, not only for the chess game, but also for Fenway's suspicion of Cremar, and though it wasn't made public, Cremar did hand over his spell book.

"The spellbook is with Fenway," Ilda said, "and I'll have him send it back to you." "I have to apologize.

"Didn't Mage Fenway leave?"

"He was very tired from the spell he had cast," Ilda said, taking the cloak and bow that the elf had brought her, "The administrator told him to stay in Grey Ridge to rest." ”

Fenway didn't come, and when Grey Ridge was completely plunged into darkness and dampness shortly after Ilda's departure, a half-elf brought a message from Fenway, for which he apologized for asking Cremar to go to Fenway's residence if he needed his spell book.

"Do you think we need this spellbook so much?" said the lich to the sleeping Otherworldly Soul, he had not received an echo and did not need a response, "please pass on to the esteemed Fenway Mage," he hid his face in the shadow of the eaves, "I'll go retrieve my spell book, but not tonight - tonight is not suitable for memory spells, nor for casting spells, nor for meeting the two spellcasters - if he can, please wait until the magic galaxy shines on Grey Ridge once more, and that is the most suitable moment." ”

Whatever it was, the former undead added in his heart.

"What do you want?" begged Monroe, "this emblem is pure gold, bite it, see how soft it is, and it is inlaid with sunstones, take it out, pry it out, smash the base of the gold, take it out and sell it for fifty, nay, a hundred gold coins, I promise! What more do you want?

Flo's priest smiled sweetly, her fingers dipped in the effectual pink oil, dancing and circling Monroe's body, making him shiver with all his might.

"I've got a bad thing," she said in Monroe's ear, "not so good a bad thing—I'm curious," she said, "very curious, and I have a strong curiosity about all things mysterious." ”

"So what? Monroe muttered in confusion, "Is there anything else on my body that you don't know?"

"Yes. Flo's priest said, fingertips fiddling with a loose piece of fat, "Yes, Monroe, you have a key, and that key opens a door, and behind that door is a secret passage that leads to ......."

"The foot that leads to Rosada. Monroe shuddered, as if he was about to come to his senses," Rosada said...... You can't, it's not the place you can get in!"

"But I want to see," said Flo's priest, as she secretly poured all the remaining grease from the bottle in her hand, and she held Monroe unrelentingly, "Good man, show me, I've been thinking about it, I'm going crazy." ”

"No ......"

"Please, good man. She begged and kissed him on the chest.

“...... Just looking?"

"Just look. ”

Monroe hesitated, tossing and turning between ** and duty, but really, he felt like he was about to be burned to ashes - "If, if you will swear to Flo...... Just look, and willing to keep it a secret. ”

"Swear to Flo," Flo's priest said breathlessly, slyly deleting the subject, but Monroe didn't notice it at all, her finger, oh, her finger, "I'm just going to go in and have a look, and keep it a secret." I'll be satisfied," she said, biting down on the protruding dot, "You'll be satisfied, good man." ”

"Just look. Monroe said, as if to make a promise to himself.

Monroe sneaked out of his room with Flo's priest, and the rain became heavier, but it made Monroe even more thirsty - the soaked silk robe clung to the plump **, more beautiful and inviting than the full** it, he stared at the beautiful view, and fell down several times, but he didn't feel any pain at all, nor did he feel cold.

He opened the door, and the dark passage was lit by fluorite, the walls and floor were polished unusually smooth, and the cold wind blew in through the invisible cracks, making people shiver and their teeth tremble.

Flo's priest grabbed the bell, perhaps an illusion of hers, and it stretched out a number of small, cold thorns that stung her hand.

"Look, this is the source of holy water. Monroe whispered, with pride.

At the foot of the statue of Rosada was an empty stone chamber, a pump powered by a rune disc pumping clean water out of the dark depths of the earth and sending it out to the ground, and Flo's priest noticed a spot in the water that was glowing, and she walked over to it, a hollow ball of pure gold, smaller than her bell, and a little light seeping through its voids, dissolving in the water.

"Rosada's bounty," said Monroe triumphantly, "is a solid stone that has been blessed by Rosada, so that the water that flows through it can lift the spirits and heal the sick." But every seven days it had to be replaced, and it would take a long time to purify and pray for a long time to be blessed by Rosada again, but he wouldn't tell Flo's priest, "You can keep it a secret, can you?"

"I've sworn an oath," said Flo's priest, pouting, "Don't you believe the oath a priest has made to his God?"

“...... Okay, okay," Monroe stumbled "I trust you...... It's time for us to go. ”

"Yes," said Flo's priest, "sleep, Monroe." ”

When Flo's priest walked out of the sanctuary in Rosada, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a man.

He pulled up the hood that almost covered his face and held out his hand to the priest, who recognized the hand with the ring.

She opened the hollow bell, pulled out the orb of pure gold that had been replaced, and placed it in the man's hand—and then a heavy bag of gold coins fell at her feet, and she hurried to pick it up, and when she straightened up, the man was gone.

Flo's priest spat a little, she felt a little uncomfortable, perhaps having spent too much time in the rain and having been messing with the priest of Rosada for too long—to make sure the stupid pig had no memory of the brief coma in the tunnel—and she hunched over, bowed her head, and opened the leather bag, which was full of gold coins, at least a hundred, or more, and she tossed into it the emblem that Monroe had given her.

The next day Monroe did not get up on time to greet the morning light, the senior pastor went to see him, and found him sick, probably from the rain, so he had a fever, and Adel fed him a little pure water blessed by the god of morning light, and the poor fellow groaned in pain, rolled over and fell asleep again.

"Today more people have come to the sanctuary to pray for Rosada's blessings. Adelle's teacher said, "The laurel leaves are almost gone." ”

"They were afraid of being infected with madness. Adair said.

"Is it a madness epidemic in the outer city?" the teacher asked, "Your father and your brother seem to be investigating this matter, do you have any results?"

"Not yet," said Adel with a sigh, "except that the people who have been mad are porters—fortunately there haven't been any similar patients in the last two days." ”

"Be careful," his teacher said, "I don't think it's going to end so easily." ”

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