A puff of flame exploded in front of Ostal's eyes, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.

The sudden light vanished in an instant, leaving behind only gray-black smoke that twisted in the air and gradually formed a vague silhouette that looked like a human in a robe.

"Murus greets you. The figure of smoke bowed to the red-robed sorcerer and said, "May your strength be as deep as the sea, and your wisdom as the stars." ”

"Leave out the unnecessary pleasantries," said Ostahl, who had once been a mage who dared to stand up to his master, whose arrogance had angered her warlocks, who had spared his soul after his miserable death, and who were now tortured, imprisoned, and enslaved every moment of the day, perhaps for a thousand years or more—so that the Red Robe needed no politeness or respect for him: "Tell me what you mean, and don't let me know that you have missed or distorted." ”

"A will. "From the darkest and brightest places—to find a spell book, written in the language of dragons, with a solid gold cover studded with gems and runes, to retrieve it between anyone discovering its secrets, and to keep all who come into contact with it under complete control." ”

"Show me what it looks like. Ostal ordered.

Mulus gestured, and a portion of the smoke detached from his body and condensed, taking on a soft glow of gold and blue—but Ostar could only see its surface.

"What's inside?"

"That's all I saw. Mulus said.

Ostahl glanced at him, "Do you remember your disciple, the son of the lord of the Dragonfire Islands named Beavis?"

Mulus was silent, and a gloating warlock had already described to him how his disciple's wife had died in agony - many thought it was an unfortunate accident, but Mulus knew that it was all due to the malicious trickery of the man, and that no one who was involved with him could escape her eyes and ears - he could not even find the soul of Beavis.

"He seems to have a disciple too. Austal stared at the soul that was so faint that he could almost see through the wall and said, "A half-elf, his name is Cremar, have you ever heard of him?"

"Nope. Mulus said.

"You should probably go and see him. Ostahl said: "According to my unsuccessful apprentice, he inherited everything from Beavis. ”

"What do you want?"

"How many other people have accepted this assignment besides me?"

Mulus was silent for a moment, then slowly uttered a few names, and Ostarr weighed it back and forth in his mind, "I need more information." ”

"That's all there is to it. ”

"You're going to get more. Ostar said, reaching out and flicking it. Make a gesture of expulsion, "Okay, get out of here, Mulus, I don't need you anymore." ”

"You haven't paid me yet. ”

"There is no remuneration. Ostal said that perhaps one or two apprentice warlocks would be foolish enough to give a imprisoned soul like Mulus some reward - some magical energy or the blood of demons or demons, but Ostahl would not: "Go eat the dirt of the mourning wasteland," and he viciously threw a magically treated pyroxene into the fire, and the flames rose sharply. Mulus's soul let out a miserable cry, and the already unstable figure shook a little, and then dissipated from the obsidian fire: "You only deserve to eat that." The red robe said, facing the starry embers.

He waited a moment, lifted the fire, stepped out of the tent, turned it upside down, and let the howling wind sweep away the ashes inside.

Several orcs who were downwind sneezed violently.

"I didn't expect you to dare to come here. A business that snored like a beast said behind the red-robed warlock.

"Why not?" said Ostal, "you need me, the chief of Gersh." Without me, you'd have lost half of your numbers during the long winter. And there will be no new cubs to survive. ”

"Isn't it because of you that we're in this predicament?" said Gersh, who was taller than he had been in the attack on Thundercastle, but also thinner, after all winter he had been busy leading the warriors of his tribe in finding enough food for the women and cubs—argali, bison, horned deer, and other orcs—and he had never trusted humans very much, and he had only used a small portion of the potions they had brought, I have to say. At that time, he was under tremendous pressure, and if the orcs could really get Thundercastle under the protection of Kawu, then the Blizzard tribe with the least number of soldiers would only get the least amount of loot, and his warriors would be ridiculed and looked down upon. They will be angry and want to expel or kill him.

In fact, even if they lost the battle, some people thought that the Blizzard tribe and its orc Gish had lost the courage of the orcs, and they would rob their people before they could rob the humans, but this is not surprising, the orcs had no morals and laws to speak of, they worshipped the strong, revered the priests, and despised wisdom and thinking - after that the Blizzard tribe endured some pressure, but soon, the dark clouds hanging over their heads flew over their enemies - The orcs who had been catalyzed by potions had a stomach that could never be filled, and they ate more than their father and uncle combined, and after eating up the livestock and slaves of the tribe, they began to eat the weaker orcs, and gradually turned their hungry eyes on the orcs who had high positions, the latter was much fatter than the former, and after one bloody fight after another, there were even one or two orcs left in several tribes.

Now that Blizzard is the largest and strongest tribe in the entire Wuthering Plains, Gersh has gathered a number of strong orc warriors and orc women who have escaped by the narrowly, and his tribe has expanded by nearly a third instead of decreasing in number.

"I think I told them these kids were going to have a good appetite. The red-robed warlock said nonchalantly.

"It's not normal. Gersh said.

"It's not normal for a baby orc to grow into an orc warrior in a few breaths. Ostal said, making a gesture of invitation, and Gersh followed him into the tent that from the outside might have forced Gersh to leave his tail outside, but in fact it could accommodate Gersh's four wives and twelve cubs.

Gersh sat down cross-legged, Ostarr brought him a glass of blood wine, and the orc leader drank the liquid in one gulp. Under the effect of magic, the human blood mixed with the wine was as fresh and sweet as if it had just been squeezed, Gersh stuck out his tongue and licked the wine dripping from his hair, pulled out a brown leather pouch from his side, pulled open the drawstring, and poured out the contents.

The skin seemed unremarkable. It was crudely made, but judging by the number of gems poured, it was still a dimensional bag with a considerable capacity - the small stones that had been simply polished to give off a brilliant glow were piled up into a small hill as high as a warlock's knee.

"What more could you want?"

"Livestock, slaves," said Gersh, "and horses, and weapons, especially arrows and crossbows, whatever you take out, I will ask for it." And ......"

"Speak. ”

"I want mages and warlocks. ”

Ostahl finally gave the rude orc a formal look, "Everyone knows that mages and warlocks are not welcome in Wuthering Plains. ”

"Not now. ”

"Your priests will think you are despising them, and you will be regarded as blasphemers. ”

"As long as a rich offering is offered, the mighty Kawuha will not care about these small matters - and if they insist, then I will not mind sending them to accuse the Kawuhae of my sins in person. Gersh touched his chin.

"You're doing something dangerous. ”

"Something that pleases my god Kawu more than any priest. Gersh said, "I'll dedicate the whole of Castle Thunder to him, maybe more." ”

&&&

Dylan Donkray ascends the twin walls of Fort Thunder.

The narrow passages of the Dragon's Belly Pass were covered with lush vegetation again, the blood of orcs and humans melted the snow and moistened the ground below, and the grass seeds sprouted and could rise a palm in a single night—the wind from the Whirring Plains weighed on them, causing turquoise ripples through the towering towers. Roll towards the new inner city - even in this season, the wind here is as cold and sharp as a sword forged of steel. Each puff of air inhaled slices through the throat and lungs like a finely crushed knife.

This is where his titular father, Morton Donclay, has been stationed almost all his life, and he is not willing to give it to Dylan Donclay, but to an ordinary soldier, a lowly man with no surname. Dylan Donclay must admit that his heart did ache when he first heard the news, and that he had not spent as much time with Moreton Donclay as his mother, Princess Diane. But he had heard his stories and legends, and the admiration of a child could not be estimated by the length of time, and he learned how to become a mage in the courtyard without a father, full of hope that he would be able to gain his approval, but the end result. As you can see, he was a disgrace to Morton Donclay, and before he left this world, Morton Donclay threw the insult back on his face and his mother's face.

It was for this reason that Dylan accepted the invitation of Duke John without much hesitation, and he was also Princess Diane's brother and Dylan's uncle, and it was much more appropriate for him to sit on that throne than the old king, although the process was so short that they could not have imagined.

Speaking of which, it is impossible to mention Birdwin Donkray, who feels Dylan hard to describe, Dylan does not love him, or more precisely, hates the thief who got what he deserves, but Dylan does not want to see him die so easily and simply - as he hoped, the former paladin is sliding into the abyss of depravity without himself noticing, and his titular brother is watching it with joy, as if he were sipping the only remaining wine in the world.

Dylan gently stroked the cold stone brick, "This is what you don't want to give me," he whispered to the stone brick like a child, "but I got it anyway." ”

&&&

"One thing that pleases my god Kau more than any priest," said Gersh, "I will dedicate the whole of Thundercastle to him, perhaps more." ”

&&&

Dylan Donkray ascends the twin walls of Fort Thunder.

The narrow passages of the Dragon's Belly Pass were covered with lush vegetation again, the blood of orcs and humans melted the snow and moistened the ground below, and the grass seeds sprouted and could rise a palm in a single night—the wind from the Whistling Plains weighed on them, causing turquoise ripples to sweep straight through the towering towers of the arrows and toward the new inner city—even in this season, the wind here was as cold and sharp as a sword forged of steel, and each breath of air inhaled cut throats and lungs like a tiny knife.

This is where his titular father, Morton Donclay, has been stationed almost all his life, and he is not willing to give it to Dylan Donclay, but to an ordinary soldier, a lowly man with no surname. Dylan Donclay must admit that he did feel a pain in his heart when he first heard the news, he had not been with Molton Donclay as long as his mother, Princess Diane, but he had heard his stories and legends, and the admiration of a child could not be measured by the length of time, and he was learning how to become a mage in the courtyard without a father, thinking that he would be able to gain his recognition, but in the end, as you can see, he was a disgrace to Morton Donclay, and before leaving this world, Morton Donclay happily threw this insult back on his face and that of his mother.

It was for this reason that Dylan accepted the invitation of Duke John without much hesitation, and he was also Princess Diane's brother and Dylan's uncle, and it was much more appropriate for him to sit on that throne than the old king, although the process was so short that they could not have imagined.

Speaking of which, it is impossible to mention Birdwin Donkray, who feels Dylan hard to describe, Dylan does not love him, or more precisely, hates the thief who got what he deserves, but Dylan does not want to see him die so easily and simply - as he hoped, the former paladin is sliding into the abyss of depravity without himself noticing, and his titular brother is watching it with joy, as if he were sipping the only remaining wine in the world.

Dylan gently stroked the cold stone brick, "This is what you don't want to give me," he whispered to the stone brick like a child, "but I got it anyway." (To be continued......)