"That's the devil's finger, well, that's what we humans call it, and the elves call it 'Poison Tip', and it's a fungus with a unique character. The ship's doctor said that they had returned to the egret's feet, and sat in the antechamber with a warm hearth beside them, and in front of them was grape juice mixed with mixed vegetables and milk wine mixed with water: "You can only see it in the swamp deep in the forest, and when it is not grown, it is white, and when it grows bright red, it is dried and ground into powder." Mages use it to summon demons, and mortals use them to kill people with a tiny tint, almost hidden between their fingernails, dissolved in water, and turned into smoke with similar effects. ”

"Expensive?"

"It's expensive," the ship doctor puffed out, "the mages weigh it in grams—and the elves hate the mushroom, which is almost exclusively found in their vestibules and backyards, perhaps because people almost call it elven fingers, and they have to destroy it when they see it, and of course, they don't want humans to collect it and sell it or use it." ”

Mage Alva's face was full of regret.

He and the Ranger stood face to face on either side of a small pool of fire elementals, confined by the mage to a mica stone bowl that could be held up with both hands, stuck in a black iron stand forged into vines and gnome arms, and near the bowl, the iron bracket turned dark red and emitted a surging heat.

"Can't you really leave me some?" he said, "just two grams, I just want to do some experiments." ”

"No, I can't. The Ranger replied gently and stubbornly, and the Mage pursed his lips sadly, but he cast a spell as the Ranger wished, and after the spell took effect, the Ranger threw the cylinder into the pool of fire elementals.

The smoke was dispelled as soon as it was generated, and the dried mushrooms let out a baby's cry in the pure fire element, "These weights can summon more than a dozen demons. For a moment, the mage said, the ranger thought he was going to reach in and salvage the remnants - thankfully not, he said sorry to his mage friend in his heart, few people knew that the elves hated the mushroom not just because of a name and the evil uses known to man.

They waited until the pool of fire elements had returned to its original form before leaving, and the mage cautiously sealed the room with magic.

"It's possible I didn't prepare this spell. Alva said he was still a little obsessed with mushrooms.

"I haven't been away from Fort Blass for long," said Ranger smugly, "at least not enough to tire you of your old friend. ”

Alva Mage is known to love shisha, but he's just as busy, so he always has a small spell to dispel the smell of smoke from his room and body in case of emergency.

"Do you have anything else to do next?"

"No," Ranger tilted his head slightly, "Need help?"

"Corbert wanted me to meet someone, a stranger who made him feel good," Alva's voice echoed through the empty hallway, and both the mage and the ranger were accustomed to walking lightly and silently, "and he wanted me to give some...... Instructions. ”

"What kind of people?"

"I don't know," said Alva, "but it seems to me that the man is either exceedingly good or exceedingly evil." ”

"By the way," he continued, "he wanted to go to the White Tower." ”

- White Tower?

- Yes, White Tower, we're going to get something there first, and then we're going north along the Starlight River to Grey Ridge.

――Is it the end?

-- A temporary end. The lich says we need a safe place to live.

- I thought you would be in a hurry to regain your strength.

- There is also a place to sharpen the blade, the former undead say that the Gray Ridge is the frontier and sentry of the Silver Crown Jungle - goblins, orcs, and humans, there is no shortage of battles and dangers, but not too often, just for us now.

- Will they allow? Suspicious of this otherworldly soul - in his world, eighty percent of the people in an interesting little interview said they couldn't recognize their neighbors and couldn't call their names, but that didn't hurt them much, but what about here? People must be suspicious and wary of an unfamiliar face, and travelers of unknown origin will be expelled even if they pass through a village or stop at the edge of a field for a moment, let alone settle and invade their lives.

- Yes, said the lich, simply and unquestionably.

The otherworldly spirit said nothing, and he could sense that the lich's mood was in a state of flux. The former undead seemed to be forced to face something he didn't want to face, and the most ironic thing was that it was none other than himself who was whipping him with an iron whip behind him.

The lich used magic tricks to conjure himself up a crude mirror, with a wooden handle, cracked mercury paint on the back, and a small piece missing. His pale face was reflected in the mirror. The face had rotted away seventy years earlier, but now it had returned, and the lich was not pleased with it—he had never liked his face, though it had given him shelter when he was weak and lowly.

His forehead was broad and high, with a hairline in the middle of his forehead slightly downward, forming a small point, his brow bones protruding, and his eyes sunken deeply, which looked particularly gloomy and elusive under the cover of long, sharp and thick eyebrows, and the bridge of his nose was narrow and high, and his lips were beautiful and suitable for kissing, and although they lacked blood, they were as they were when he was a human being.

His hair was so black that perhaps the uneducated, poor-spoken commoners would say, "Ah, what a beautiful hair it is, but if you put it together with other dark hairs, you will immediately notice the difference—it is so black and pure, and where there is no light, it is like a nightmare that can be touched, but with a little light you can see the metallic refraction of indigo and silver gray, which is often seen in the feathers of the lone crown eagle and the raven.

The Lich remembers his days in the Mentor's Tower and before, when he learned how to be quiet and restrained from the light of his emotions when he was an infant - a smile and frown at the wrong time can be mistaken for taunt or contempt, and you can be whipped (when you're lucky), or executed, or at worst sacrificed or experimented with—but sometimes a blank face can be a crime (when you're not lucky).

It is no more difficult to show some emotions at the right time than to learn to cast spells, the lich thought, he could do it two hundred years ago, and he can do it now, what he needs to adjust is his own thoughts, those evil thoughts, he has heard the name of the mage Alva, he is a powerful and jealous mage, he has traveled for twenty years, the people he has seen and the experience he has gained is as rich as his collection, and he has dealt with the lich (though not him) more than once, he suspects that Alva can sniff out the poison that lies deep in his soul with his knees alone, like the captain of the Sparrow。

But the former undead can control his thoughts, pretend his words, adjust his actions, he can't make himself kinder, but he can make himself less threatening, and he has a good model to copy, right next to him, within the same sea of knowledge.