The lord, the consul, the two councillors, the two populace representatives were led by Antonio's apprentice into a small, windowless room with little decoration, five chairs on the cold stone floor, facing a smooth, flat wall.

A high-backed chair - for the lord, a slightly lower high-backed chair for the consul, and then four low-backed chairs of simple form, two representatives of the people, a goldsmith and a tailor, rubbing their hands and clothes excitedly and with trepidation, since their great-grandparents, who had been inhabitants of the White Tower, but who sat in a room with the lord separated only by a seat and a noble lord - something that had never happened in their most arrogant dreams!

And watching a mage cast a spell to bring the soul of a dead man back from the plain of mourning back into the world of the living, and to have to talk to her, is a sight they haven't seen in their most horrible nightmares...... A large lampstand hung from the ceiling beam of the room, and the candles on the lampstand were all lit, and it was supposed that the room should be stuffy and hot, but the delegates still felt cold in their hands and feet.

A strange young man entered, and was saluted by Master Antonio's apprentice, and called him Master Cremar, with black hair and eyes shining like stars—with a face that was very pleasing to the girls, and the tailor thought that the white knee-length robe on his body was too plain, without embroidery, lace, or trimming, and the buttons were not made of precious stones or pearls, so that one wondered if he had entered not a mage but a devout ascetic— But he stood up and bowed along with the councillors, after all, it was a spellcaster, and the mage only bowed to them slightly, and he bowed a little disrespectfully to the lord, but soon, they had no time to care about these little things, and the mage, who didn't seem very reliable in terms of age, was already standing in front of the empty wall, chanting incantations and gesturing.

The deputies and representatives of the populace watched intently, and unconsciously opened their mouths - the thick walls of stone melted as quickly as snow under the scorching sun, and the special room that was only separated from them by a wall was unobtrusive before the eyes of these mortals.

There were so many candles burning in that room, the heat distorted the air in the room, and the light shone brightly in their eyes, making everything they saw lose its shape- Mage Antonio stood on the outside of the Sealing Ring, filled with various lines and patterns, with candles at his feet, along the Sealing Ring for a full circumference, each about half a foot apart, and in the center of the Sealing Ring was a burning brazier, and the goldsmith's gaze was drawn uncontrollably to it, a large black and inconspicuous graphite basin, about one-ten-thousandth the price of its bracket- The multi-footed gold brackets wrapped in the shape of vines have a beautiful silvery-blue sheen, adorned with emerald leaves and obsidian fruits, which glow seductively in the light of the fire.

At least fifteen thousand gold coins were needed, and the goldsmith estimated that not including the cost of the artwork was that the products of pure gold and mythril (utensils and armor) could only be made by spellcasters, elves and dwarves, and that poor casters, elves and lovers were almost non-existent, and because of this, the prices they quoted were always beyond the rules of the guild, either too low or too high, but of course, they did not bother to join a mortal guild - he thought so seriously that he almost forgot where he was - Until Demont made a different opinion.

"Can we only watch here?" he asked.

"You can listen to it too. The black-haired spellcaster said.

Demont gave him a grim glance, "There is a spell at a distance," he walked over and touched the invisible barrier, "You can let us see and hear what you want us to see and hear." ”

"The summoned undead will come with the winds and ashes of the mourning wasteland," said the lich, "and it is harmful to the living." ”

"To the ordinary living," said Demont, "but I am a spellcaster. ”

"Summoning spells requires absolute concentration. "Your presence may cause spells to fail or summon greater dangers." ”

"Ah, mind you," Demon smiled, "you're insulting your mentor—I'm sure the most powerful mage in the White Tower won't lose control of his spells because of one more person in the Sealed Ring." ”

Antonio's apprentice's face turned pale, but he remembered that Demund was not only a mage but also an archon of the White Tower, and that he had put down a terrible and massive riot that saved his family, and that his respect for his mentor and his personal dignity were so mixed with gratitude and anger that he was speechless for a while, and he had to twist his fingers.

No one noticed when Kerry had gone out and when he had returned.

"If you want," Carriben relayed the advice of Mage Antonio, "you can see and hear closer, but your safety must be entrusted to you, and he can't spare more energy from casting spells to keep the second person from being harmed or invaded." ”

"Of course. Demon said arrogantly, turning to the door, and the tailor quickly jumped up from his low-backed chair and removed a gap for Demont to pass through them, but he was so clumsy that he tripped over the chair he had pulled out, and his foot hit Demon's shinbone, causing the mage to stumble involuntarily and not fall—even then, Demont glared at him in extreme rage.

Mage Antonio's apprentice opened the door for Demon, and the black-haired spellcaster, also a half-elven blood mongrel mage, stood by the door, with an unpleasantly calm look, his hands folded in his wide sleeves.

Demont examined himself vigilantly, but he didn't notice anything unusual.

He walked into the special room where he used to cast summoning spells, the heat on his face made him feel a little breathless, but Demont didn't pay attention to it at all, he greedily looked at everything he could see, as a spellcaster, he saw much more than a goldsmith, it was a room of countless wisdom and power, every line, every pattern, every decoration and pattern, the spells were smelted in precious mythril and gems, deeply embedded in the ebony floor and walls, forming a strong and strong prison, he had no doubt that this sealing ring could bind an abyss lord or a demon prince。

Dermon paused for a moment and walked to the upper left corner of the room, from which he could clearly see the movements of Mage Antonio standing in the upper right corner of the room.

From the point of view of mortals, Mage Antonio's performance could be described as unusually boring and uneventful, he was intently chanting long incantations, gesturing slowly, his eyes closed, his body swaying slightly, and walking clockwise along the ring of the seal. It didn't take long for the tailor to bow his head and play with the lace on his shirt, analyzing its weave, the goldsmith looking away from the brazier, quietly studying the jeweled pin on Demont's neckline and the amber amulet that the lord hung on his chest, and the two councillors made a great deal with each other with gestures and pinching in their sleeves, while the lord fell asleep.

In the end, it was the cry of Master Antonio that woke everyone up.

They didn't see the process, but the results were impressive—a giant flame rose from the graphite basin, almost touching the fifteen-foot-high roof, and then it fell to the ground with a thud, bursting open, and the hot red flames engulfed the room at once, and rolled ferociously into the world. The councillors and representatives of the populace involuntarily screamed and jumped up from their chairs, trying to escape, and the apprentice of Mage Antonio had to raise his hand and cast a spell that helped calm them down to calm them down.

The excess of light disappeared at once, and when they looked again at the transparent wall with trepidation, they saw that the flames had shrunk, and if they had been giants, they were now the size of ogres, and they were still shrinking--Mage Antonio waved his arm, an invisible hand threw an unknown material into the brazier, and he called the name of Priest Flo again, and the flame continued to burn, but it was no longer so violent and showy, it became dim, like a cleansed bloodstain- The silhouette of a woman is becoming sharp and clear.

One of the councillors recognized the man at once—no, the soul, to whom he had presented her with small gifts of great value, and hundreds of silver coins.

And Demont's eyes widened.

His hands trembled uncontrollably.

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