Adelle, a priest of Rosada, the god of morning light, walked down the long corridor with a candle with a wick trimmed so short that it could not even illuminate the top barrel arch, and a breeze blew from that end of the corridor, bringing with it the scent of roses, the sweetness of honey pies, and the melodious singing.

He thought that last night's guest was still asleep, but this recognition was shattered when he saw the slightly open door, and the young and handsome outsider like him sat neatly dressed on the edge of the bed, wearing that familiar white robe, Adel turned his gaze to his lap, he was one of the few priests who participated in the battle of the Underworld yesterday, and it was he who applied healing to the venerable mage, the friend of the ranger Kerryben— He was the most seriously injured of all the people alive, and although he had drunk the healing potion to stop the bleeding, it only made the wound look more hideous and terrifying - without the blood to cover it, whether it was broken skin, soft fat, turned muscles, or fascia hanging from the bone stubble, it looked like a living specimen created by some ill-temperamented red-robed out of curiosity and play.

The tears began at the knee and spread to the hips, some of the muscles had been lost forever, the scratches digging deep into the femur, and Adel made an effort not to wonder if his remaining energy would be able to restore them to their original state, but thankfully, the god of morning light was still generous and forgiving, and he and Kerry were relieved to see the remaining intact skin stretch and open soothingly, covering the wounds that healed as quickly as if they had gone back in time.

"Praise the morning light. The pastor said happily.

"Praise the morning light. The young mage replied, lifeless.

Adel shuddered, the candle in his hand trembled, and he wondered why the room had suddenly become cold, "Bright Rosada. He whispered the name of the god, and a warm stream of water ran through his body, warming him up.

He put the candles and other things on the desk, walked over and pushed open the window, fresh air poured into the room, the sloping galaxy turned to the east, and the farthest sky was already faintly white.

The lich got up from his bed and walked to the window, standing side by side with the priest of the god of morning light, whose eyes were closed defenselessly, his head raised, his hands firmly clasped together.

From their windows there was a huge banyan tree with many children, and beyond that, the Holy of Holies of the God of Morning Light, a towering tower, the part of the inaccessible part of the world, where the priests and initiates of Rosada usually greeted the first rays of morning light by chanting hymns.

The reason why Adel was here, rather than yelling with his fellow fools, was because of the rather rigid rules of the Holy Order of Rosada - everyone who was lucky enough to stay here had to maintain a minimum of agreement with the believers of Rosada, that is, to welcome the morning light with them. In order to prevent some of the nocturnal pleasure-seekers from wasting their precious time between blankets and sheets, they will send a priest to knock on your door and head.

According to the caster's estimate, it was almost time for the morning light to spread here, and it was almost time for him to exchange the inside and the outside, and he was finally free.

"The inn of the White Tower is as noisy as the rest of the world," Carey had said, "the mansion of Master Beavis has been deserted for many years, and it is quiet and warm here, and there is someone to take care of you. So he just shoved a cat into the kennel.

Luckily it was late afternoon when they were able to check in, but the sunset carols still made the lich feel agitated—although it was supposed that the muffled chants of the priests would only benefit the body's meditation and sleep, but his memory didn't think so— When the lich was a chick of the undead, there was no shortage of priests of Rosada among the armies and adventurers who came to attack his mentor, and he was the last of the many immortal beings to be thrown as a striker or bait so often that at last he could beat and sing to the hateful white robes, after all, he was as familiar with the obnoxious humming as they were.

In the past he would use rancid cysts and cold tentacles against them, but now, he couldn't even throw his slippers down, let alone anything else.

It was still dark outside the window, but it was the last darkness before dawn.

The elven ranger lifted the silver cup filled with pure water to the bright and transparent morning light, and then drank the water in the silver cup, and the holy water cleansed by the morning light carried the warmth and fragrance of the sun, and the fatigue caused by two consecutive nights of sleepless for two consecutive days and nights quickly melted away like fresh snow.

The guards and mages of the White Tower, under the guidance of Keriben, searched the entire tunnel, looking for clues and collecting corpses, but they could not find anything of value on the smuggler's guards, snake people, and Furth, such as letters or seals, until Keriben removed the ring that once glowed red, his original intention was to let the mage Antonio analyze the spell, but he immediately saw a small gray mark across the merchant's fat and white fingers.

The trail was as thin as five hairs juxtaposed, and if it was a human standing there, it might have been overlooked, but Kerry's transcendent human eyesight allowed him to see that the gray line was in fact a patterned Mithril ring.

"Not the emblem of any deity. The Ranger squinted, and he picked up a twig and made a rough outline in the mire by the lake.

"I think I've probably guessed," the captain sighed, "but I wish I was wrong." ”

"When we get back to the White Tower," said the Ranger, "I'll give you a more accurate graph." ”

"Yes, but before that, you should get some good sleep. The captain of the guard said, "Just like the young spellcaster, you can go to the sanctuary in Rosada, or to my house or to Antonio's, but don't go to the hotel, my wife will be sad." ”

"Cremar," the Ranger corrected, "I'm about to take him to visit you, and if I can, I hope to get him what Beavis left for him as soon as possible." ”

"He's Beavis' apprentice?" said the captain of the guard, "It's unfortunate, then, Beavis is dead?"

"Yes. "The fire of his life was extinguished at the same time as the flame of resentment," Carey said. ”

"Then he has finally completed his revenge, well, may he and his wife rest in peace," said the captain of the guard, "I will be waiting for you in my room all day today, and tomorrow, but seriously, you need to rest." ”

"I'll rest," Kerry said, "but let's get everything sorted out." ”

Born in the Dragonfire Islands, his father was one of the many lords of the Dragonfire Islands, and he chose the White Tower only because his elven wife liked it, and his mansion was located on the west side of the White Tower, a gray stone two-story cottage surrounded by vines and vines in a vast courtyard.

"Beavis has left a mark on me," said the captain of the garrison, pulling out a blank piece of parchment, which Cremar placed his hand on, and then moved away, tiny flames leaping across the parchment to create a pattern—the silhouette of a dragon in its side.

"Oh," said the captain of the guard, "you're a flame too, just like Beavis." He overlapped the two parchments and was pleased to see that they fit seamlessly into each other.

"Let's go inside. He took the key out of his pocket, "But it hasn't been cleaned since Beavis left, get ready, mage." ”***

It's May 4th, and there's another chapter in the evening.

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