Compared to Fenway, Ilda's guide is much more competent.

What does the dark-haired spellcaster need most? not work, not maps, but food and shelter.

As we have previously described, the warehouses of the port are made of shell concrete, and the buildings in the port are almost entirely half-wood and half-earth, the houses at the fort are mostly of stone with only a few wooden huts, the out-of-town outcasts live in abandoned tents and small huts made of palm leaves, the white tower resembles the fort and the buildings in other places, the serfs respite from the low huts of mud and grass, and the slaves have only caves dug with their bare hands.

If you're a first-time stranger to Grey Ridge, you may be confused by the fact that you can't find the location of Grey Ridge – no docks, no shrines, no neat houses, no clear roads, just countless towering trees that obscure the sky, curtained vines, tangled roots, and decaying leaves that sink deep into them with every step.

But as long as someone is willing to lead you, or you have a keen eye and a willingness to keep your head up all the time, then you may be able to see a hint of the fact that the inhabitants of Grey Ridge hang their dwellings in the air about thirty to fifty feet high, made of a silver-gray wood, with little metal or stone, and the rooms are tightly clinging to the bodies of the giant trees, with circular open-air corridors and pointed wide-brimmed roofs, of varying heights, connected to each other by narrow drawbridges.

Cremar's dwelling was the smaller of the two, with only five rooms, one of which was completely enclosed and lit only by fluorite, and one room with four windows inlaid with colorless glass, which kept its light even when the sunlight needed to shine through the layers of foliage.

"This house was built to mimic Fenway's residence," said Ilda, "almost exactly like it—you're a mage, too, and I don't think your needs will be far from his." She shook her head slightly, "He should have brought you here first, not to see how to make maple candy." ”

Obviously, he had his own plans, and the lich said in his heart— Whether it's Sharp Jaw Harbor or Cape Fortress or whatever, except for Grey Ridge, the status of the person who can see the magic galaxy is remarkable and transcendent, even an apprentice can be sincerely respected and worshipped, and here, this so-called guide is rude and contemptuous to let a mage do something that should be done by servants and slaves, and if it were not Cremar who has other plans standing here today (Fenway is not wrong), but another spellcaster, he will definitely choose to leave without hesitation- In that case, why should Fenway care if he has a place to live, it's just a waste of time.

The room was a little empty, for there was only one Cremar living here, with only a bed, hangers, and storage boxes, but the boxes were wrapped in fine copper horns, and the beds were piled with furs, down, and silk.

As for the rest, Fenway wasn't lying, there was no trade in Grey Ridge, only exchange, or you could collect and craft it yourself - for example, Cremar needed a beveled desk, the kind for copying scrolls, he could go to the edge of the Silvercrown Forest and search for decaying or fallen trees (which was the first step), or he could ask for help with something that might be of interest to others, there were a lot of skilled elves and half-elves, and a beveled table was just a small pastime for them on an idle afternoon.

A room that was supposed to be used for cooking was fully equipped with utensils, and of course, there was no stove, and the silver jar contained a blue-black glassy powder, a strange mineral called pyroxene by the elves, which emitted a great deal of heat when ground into water - a pinch the size of your fingertips was all it took to make a pot of hot tea for four or five people.

Ilda boiled a pot of tea, three pieces of maple sugar, and a loaf of bread she had with her, and they had a simple but delicious lunch in Cremar's new room, interspersed with questions and answers.

Grey Ridge was monotonous and boring in Fenway's mouth, but in Ilda's mouth, it became much more lovely, and as far as work was concerned, Grey Ridge's most important job was to erect an initial and critical line of defense for the Silver Crown Forest, but it was unlikely to be given to Cremar for the time being, who was not familiar with Grey Ridge, and Grey Ridge was not familiar with him, and as for the rest of the work, it was just an embellishment or a hobby - you could even do nothing, as long as you didn't have anything you wanted. If you want to do it, then in addition to making maple candy, you can also try how to tame the Great Silver-bellied Spider and get silk threads from them, which are woven into shirts that are even comparable to leather armor and can be worn by even druids...... If, as a spellcaster, you prefer to use your talents to improve your life, then you can also try crafting scrolls and potions, healing potions, protection, repair, and energy supplies other than fire are all very popular with the patrolmen.

Every night, when the magic galaxy is high in the sky, they dance and sing in the starlight and moonlight on the banks and glades, and when it is drizzling or pouring rain, they meet in a larger wooden hut to drink tea, taste honey, exchange anecdotes and jokes, listen to the narration and guidance of rangers, druids and (rare) visitors, and prepare themselves for their future travels and eternal departures.

Yes, gone forever, the hybrid of elves and humans has grown up for the same time as humans, and lives two to three times as long as them, and when they become adults, they have served Grey Ridge for sixty years, and there is still a long life waiting for them to squander it, but it is not Grey Ridge, and Grey Ridge will even refuse them to enter again - although Cremar is not a descendant of Singer's elves, nor has he grown up in Grey Ridge, but Grey Ridge has provided him with protection for only sixty years - although he does not need that long.

"How many years has the Fenway Mage been in the army?" the black-haired spellcaster asked suddenly.

"Fifty years. Ilda said, with a calm look in her face that could not be concealed.

Fenway stood in his room, in front of the reading stand, an open spell book leaning against a silver-gray tablet, he placed his fingers on it, and the words inside squirmed, entangled, disassembled, and combined into another arrangement.

The fluorite-white light illuminated the books, and Fenway's face, which made his face look lifeless like a rock, and the oversized brown-green robe swayed over his protruding shoulder blades, he had lost a lot of weight lately, and he should have gone to a companion who was good at sewing to change the size of his clothes, but he didn't notice this at all, his fingers pressed against the quivering and blurred words, and he read hungrily.

But one can imagine the horror of the mage when a pair of hands rested lightly on his shoulders, almost screaming, stabbing a dagger into the heart of someone behind him, or unleashing one of the deadliest spells in memory.

A familiar touch stopped a tragedy, and he closed the spell book, turned around, and faced the uninvited guest with a meager look of anger and disapproval.

"You should know how dangerous it is to suddenly appear behind a mage, Ilda. He hissed, hoarse, dry, and high-pitched, sounding like a snake threatening, like a spider crawling on leaves. Ilda frowned, the voice reminded her of the strange sounds of her long life, which were not beautiful and made her feel terrified, most of them came from some evil red or gray robe, evil spells, cold negative energy, the tremor and tearing sound of sulfur and fire engraved in the depths of her soul.

"Don't tell me who else but me can come and go in your room at will. "I'll be jealous." ”

"It's just you," Fenway said, "it's just you, but I might be doing a dangerous experiment." ”

"You're reading. Ilda said, "I see, you got a new spell book?" She moved to the right, and Fenway immediately grabbed her arm, "Don't look," he said, "It's an evil spell book, and I'm looking for a way to destroy it." ”

"Did Kerry Ben bring it to you?"

"It's Adel of Rosada," Fenway said, "and the words in it can deceive people." ”

He pronounced a two-syllable spell and summoned an invisible servant who closed the dangerous book in his place, obscuring the glowing fluorite, and the room went dark.

"Alright," Ilda said empathetically, her slender fingers sliding down the mage's thin arm, playfully burrowing into his sleeve and hooking his cold fingers, "Your body is getting colder," she complained jokingly, "but in the summer you must be comfortable to hold." ”

Fenway's heart tightened, he didn't want to hear anything about the passage of time, he had been in Grey Ridge for seventy years, the time that the average human had spent his entire life was so short, and in another ten years, he would have to leave Grey Ridge and never come back.

Ilda will never be seen again.