Dermon knew that his brother's return would have some kind of effect, but what he didn't expect was that it would come so quickly.

The consul often ordered the three boys to return to their mansion for dinner when they were able to gather them, as if this would make them as happy and inseparable as they appeared on the surface, but it seemed to Demont that only the naïve Adel would believe that they were an auspicious family—Demont would laugh secretly when he saw this, and the eldest son must have been absent-minded, and the father cared not in the slightest about the thoughts of the three sons, stubbornly believing that his children were as obedient and obedient as pawns on a chessboard, but did not know his rights. The future of honor and hope is simply like the sparkling sweet cream served by the servant, which will melt into naught at the slightest touch.

"Demon," said the archon, cutting a tender piece of beef without raising his head, "the recruitment of soldiers is on hold. ”

Demont suddenly clenched the silver dinner knife: "I...... I don't understand," he said, pretending to be confused, "Father, we just discussed this matter yesterday......"

"I spoke to your brother today," the archon said rudely, "I think he is right, we should ask the lord for help and let her send soldiers and mages, instead of wasting the White Tower's money and manpower in vain." ”

"But ......"

"No, but," the archon tapped his fork on the empty plate in displeasure, "stop recruiting and drive out the idle vagabonds and useless apprentices." ”

Demont looked at his brother, and the archon's eldest son gave him an apologetic smile.

"They are experienced, strong and capable mercenaries," Demont said in a low voice, "besides, that's not an apprentice, that's a mage, although they can't be compared to Mage Antonio......"

"You should have thought that Master Antonio would be angry that we didn't believe him," the archon wiped the oil on his plate with bread carelessly, "Fortunately, it's still too late, get rid of them, Demont, give some money at most, you said, those people will do anything as long as they give money, I don't want them to die, as long as they leave the White Tower as soon as possible - give you a day and night, it should be enough, they will definitely think it is a good deal." He lifted his eyes, their fat eyelids covering most of it, but the rest still made many people tremble: "You can do it, right, Demon." ”

Knowing that there was no chance of salvation at this point, Demont bowed his head and gave in: "If you can, add another day, father," he said, "after all, there are so many of them. ”

"No more. Said the consul.

After dinner, the archon eagerly invited his eldest son to sleep in his bedroom: "Let your old father take a good look at you, and talk to you," he said in his own veil, "we haven't seen each other for a year and three months—would Adel want to come with us? ”

Adele's face was flushed, and he rarely heard his father call him by this cute nickname: "I'm going back to the sanctuary before sunset, I promised my teacher, so, I'm sorry......"

"It's okay," his eldest brother reached out and stroked his soft hair gently, "keeping my promise is the most important thing, I'll be in the White Tower for a while, and I'll go back to the sanctuary to see you—if father really wants to be warmer, we can go to Demont...... Demon?"

"He's gone," said the archon, who saw Demon's black robe flash by the door, "I don't know if it's good or bad to have such a mentor for him," he said sadly, "though he is indeed strong, but ......"

"Gloomy and indifferent," the eldest son, who has been away for many years, only learned that there was such a person after Demon became a mage, Demon's mentor didn't look vicious, to be exact, a little handsome, but as a paladin reserve in Rosada, Demon's brother always felt that he was like a thorn in the shadows: "How did he become Demon's mentor?

"No, he's just a wandering mage," said his father, "and Demont likes him." He made a vow to his mentor before anyone knew about it. ”

"Is he still in the White Tower?"

"No, he went away two years ago," said the consul, "and I gave him a good honorarium." The mage accepted, but the archon still remembered his smile under his dark hood, and said, "My dear archon, the greatest reward I have received here is nothing else, it is your son, Demon, who will become a mage you cannot imagine, powerful and brilliant. ”

It should have been a good word, a blessing, but the consul shuddered at the thought of it, as if it were a terrible curse or a vicious prophecy.

At this time, Demont was hurrying out of the mansion, and he hesitated for a few heartbeats, for the sudden return of his eldest brother had shattered many plans, and he needed to find a way to save them—he thought about it for a moment, arranged the order of things to do, and then walked to the sanctuary in Rosada.

Rosada's sanctuary was close to the inner city, but most of the buildings were in the outer city, where the commoners and servants lived, so that his faithful could come to pray and get holy water and bay leaves at any time.

The priests of the god of morning light gave their last solemn and glorious ode to their gods, and as the light faded and the crowds thinned out, the young men in knee-length robes busily cleaned the courtyards, scrubbed the canals and statues, and picked up the fallen leaves and dead branches of the flowers and trees except the sacred tree...... Pastor Monroe walked past them and slapped a child with a laurel branch in his hand when he didn't notice him.

"Respect, respect," he said with a snort, "I'm not so slack and stupid as an apprentice, remember, it's important to respect your elders and teachers, understand, respect!"

"Yes," the child he spanked and bowed to him with a grin, "Yes, may the morning light shine upon you, Mr. Monroe." ”

They were not afraid of Monroe, and it was true that Monroe was sometimes annoying, but he was not a bad man, and the greatest punishment he had ever done was to slap their butts, but the branches he held in his hands were always thin and soft, and much more merciful than kneeling on the cold stone floor and reciting prayers or copying chants hundreds of times.

Satisfied, Monroe walked out of the door of the sanctuary, paused for a moment in front of the holy pool, and took out a small fine silver comb from the skin he had brought with him and combed his hair, which was blonde but unfortunately as thin as the light veil that the ladies draped over his body, and his hairline was receding at a visible rate, and he had found many methods, including dipping his whole head in camel urine, which had been told to him by his lover, and it was still not satisfactory.

As he put away his comb, he saw Adelle, a young man who had entered the sanctuary twenty years after him, greeted him respectfully and humbly, his hair was flaxen-colored and not pure enough, but it was thick enough for Monroe to envy: "Young man," he muttered inwardly, "this is young man." ”

He vaguely regretted that if he had prayed a lot in his youth, and had been strong in his faith, instead of fooling around with prostitutes, maids, and other frivolous women, he would have been able to gain the favor of Rosada and maintain his youth and vitality for a long time—but it was too late to say anything, "Have fun in time, Monroe." He muttered, clutching the pencil in his leather pocket and estimating how much it would cost tonight.

When he was only the size of Adelle, the Reverend Monroe was a popular fellow, handsome, generous, and satisfying in bed, but now he was old, his puffy face squeezed his features, fat piled up on his waist and abdomen, his slow gait, his eyes cloudy, the clinking of gold coins in his skin, and sometimes (often) disappointed and bored in the eyes of women—his choice was narrowed again and again, from noblewomen, to the daughters of petty officials, The merchant's wife went all the way to the tavern hostesses and the prostitutes who could only solicit guests on the streets of the outer city.

In this way, his old lover, a prostitute with poor business, was still willing to receive him because of his previous affection.

He walked on the sloping gravel pavement, and the tavern was very lively, and he thought that he could not let his lover drag him out, and that the honey she loved to drink would cost a silver coin, and that he had bought her honey wine, so that he could not give her money for the night, "Every silver coin must be used on the blade, my dear." He said to himself, but he didn't have the courage to admit to his lover that he was empty.

He thought so carefully that he almost bumped into someone.

The man was like Adair, but he was taller than Adelle, wearing a black velvet mage robe, and the flame gem brooch on the neckline made Monroe dizzy and parched, and he knew this, it could buy an entire tavern of mead!