"Next time you come, you can go into the sanctuary," said Adelle, "I have a small room in the nave in which you can rest." ”

The black-robed mage glanced at him, "No, Adel, your teacher hates me, and I don't want to be banished by him. ”

"How?" said Adair, "the teacher is not a strict person. "I can even say that he is amiable, especially like children.

His second brother stared at him with a strange look in his eyes: "If it weren't for the fact that he knew what kind of person you were," he said in the soft, cold tone that mages often use, "I almost thought you were mocking me—how did I know that he hated me? ”

He watched with satisfaction as his brother's cheeks turned crimson to pale.

"You're lucky, Adele," the mage raised his hand and gently stroked the young priest's cheek, "hide it well, don't accidentally lose it." ”

Adel had to go to his new friend with a bad mood, if the dark-haired spellcaster was willing to be his friend.

He still had a small expectation, as far as he could see, Cremar was unlikely to be of commoner origin, Grey Ridge had many advantages, but for a well-pampered noble, there were also many disadvantages, at least, as far as he knew, Grey Ridge had no servants or slaves.

It was late at night when the elven ship arrived at Grey Ridge, and humans or other races without night vision always had to avoid the night when sailing, but for the elves who could see a dragonfly a hundred feet away with a glimmer of light, it was a complete waste of unnecessary mooring - raising its wings, and the boat going upstream, like salmon rushing back to their homeland to reproduce, constantly leaped beyond the stepped rocks hidden in the dark and turbulent rivers - step by step.

Rosada's priest peered out of the small porthole, but he couldn't see anything but the Mithril wings that glowed with a faint grayish-white glow, and the torn water rushed to his face, causing pain like a pinprick.

"Praise to Rosada. Helplessly, Adel curled himself up in his brother's suitcase, not knowing how many times he would have to get used to the thrilling ride.

Luckily, this way of sailing wasn't just designed to intimidate a human, it was also jaw-dropping, and after Adel took a small nap, he saw Cremar, who was standing in a soft, bright white halo, draped in his leather gray cloak, waving his fingers to help the ship slow down, it was terrible, Adel thought vaguely, he obviously didn't mind working.

Then he rejoiced again, for Cremar waved at him.

A mossy pebble almost made the priest of Rosada happy, and the small box full of spell materials slipped out of his hand, and he was about to make a not-so-gentle intimate contact with the hard river beach, and if it hadn't been for Cremar's timely outstretched arm and grabbed it, its weight causing the caster's arm to fall, he would have known why Adel had two hands, he controlled his curiosity, but his keen ears could still hear the sound of metal and glass bottles colliding.

-- Interesting. The lich, who had rarely spoken since coming to Grey Ridge, suddenly said.

――What?

- The real dragon's blood, the lich said, not the blood of the four-legged lizard used to make ink, but the blood of a real dragon, though not much, and the blood of demons and demons, which added up to almost a dozen abyssal creatures, and they were packed in a chest brought by the priest of Rosada.

- He said it was spell material.

- The lich let out a spicy laugh, of course, spell material, of course spell material, why not- listen, invite him to stay with you, give him some mead, talk to him, ask who gave him this chest.

――What do you want to do?

- It's not what I want to do, it's what he, or the person who got the box, wants to do, do it, idiot, unless you want to wake up one morning and find that your neighbor has been replaced by a permanent resident of some Abyssal Plane.

But before Cremar could make an invitation, Adel made his request, and for good reason—it was too late, and he didn't want to disturb Kerryburn, who was probably asleep, or anyone else.

"Well, if you insist," Ilda said, looking at the two little ones in front of her, and the box, "that's for Fenway, spell material?"

"Yes," Adair said, "but I'm sorry, my brother asked me to give it to Fenway himself." ”

- Oh, we know who gave it to whom.

- Find out who the brother is. The lich commanded that those who could get their hands on these things would not be mediocre.

"Mage," Ilda grumbled, but wasn't really angry, "Well, you give it to Fenway, and I'll tell him." ”

Adele's brother is also a mage.

Not surprisingly, it was easy for the second son of an archon to become a mage if he had a talent for spellcasting, and in every aspect, whether political or gold, they had more access to a caster than a commoner or a wealthy merchant, and all the consul needed to do was to choose a strong and suitable mentor from within - but he didn't choose any of the mages they had known before.

It was a stranger, and Adair remembered only that his lips were thin, a deep dark red, like a congealed wound cut by a sharp knife, and his body was tall and thin, and the robes draped over his shoulders were as thick as the shadows he cast.

During the first few months, his second brother would perform tricks on his little brother, like a lively and shiny humanoid, moving objects that were not too heavy out of thin air, and putting a mark on books and objects - but as time went on, he had less and less contact with Adele, and even less intimate conversations, much to the loneliness of the Archon's son. The relationship between him and Adel is even better than that of his eldest brother and Adele, perhaps because of the relationship between the eldest son and Adel all the year round, Adel has only seen him a few times in more than ten years, and he can be said to have no impression of him, and their mother died early, and his father was busy with various affairs, and only his second brother, who was only three years older than him, accompanied Adel all the time.

- Ask the name of the mentor, the lich said.

"I don't quite remember," Adel admitted, "he rarely appears," he thought to himself, resisting weariness, "a very awkward name, stranger than yours, Cremar ......"

He uttered a name.

The lich was silent for a moment—if the name was real, he said, we might really have something to do.