"This ...... I see," the Italian slapped hard, "so if those mages come and see that the Muggle hires they intend to recruit are not sitting around waiting to be selected, but are gulping down like a polar bear, then our impression of them, um......" He stared at his burly companion beside him, pouting and spreading his hands.

"Master Dalaran, who treats ordinary people as kind, heroic, respectable, and amiable Muggles, probably doesn't make a good impression of a drunken drunkard who gets drunk early in the morning—of course, to 'you', not including me, I'm a mage's apprentice," Jin Shaolan replied with a smile.

The ridiculed Russian didn't care, and he said in a straight line: "They don't have an extra good impression of Muggles who can only play with knives and guns, and the good impression doesn't affect our work?" Besides, what we think of us in the end depends on how well we do our work—"

So the bear shouted again: "Ah, into the thin sieve Kubek! (Один-больше-кубок, one more drink)"

- As a result, the atmosphere at the table quickly slipped in the direction of the staggered direction. A few people drank cup after cup - Jin Shaolan still drank mint honey tea - people who didn't know were afraid that they would think they were plot characters. At the same time, a few anxious contractors left the tavern, and some asked for more alcoholic beverages at some point. When the boss of Orison was behind the bar and calculating the profits he had made today, he suddenly raised his eyebrows and blew a long whistle, and the four of them put down the cups in their hands in unison. A few minutes later, the door to the tavern opened, and two mages, a man and a woman, walked into the lobby.

The first to enter was a male mage, dressed in Dalaran's signature purple and gold robes, with a large, striking golden Kenrito Eye painted on the placket, the emblem of Dalaran; He wore a purple headband trimmed with gold thread, and with dashing blonde hair and a charming mustache, and if he had a short liol, he would look like a bard, or a baritone singer, or a choir leader—just not a mage!

The poet, or the singer, or the lead singer, was full of gentlemanly demeanor, and politely opened the door and invited his companions to come in. When the female mage entered the door, all eyes were drawn to her.

It was a mature lady with a straight back, a calm and graceful gait, and a wide-brimmed peaked hat in violet over her head. She is dressed in an equally gaudy violet gown with a silver cut-out pattern and frame on the front, lined with a hydrangea base and decorated with aquamarines, which looks elegant, mysterious and elegant.

The mage stepped briskly and calmly into the tavern. In her hand was a slender silver staff, the texture of which was covered with an oxidized black, and one could not help but imagine what extraordinary battles and adventures this precious treasure had witnessed; At the top of the staff, six silver spikes hold a large beryl firmly to the base, and it naturally produces a near-perfect hexagonal prism, showing a soft lake green, gradually transitioning from a lake blue to a lake blue from near the top third of the prism; Four smaller, spinels of the same color swirled around it, like stars and moons. Around the mage's waist hung an ebony wand about a foot and a half, inlaid with a thumb-sized piece of quartz cut into the shape of a droplet, a semi-precious stone that was also lake blue and slightly fluorescent, with a rare pure texture, almost as transparent as water.

But none of this compares to the glittering necklace on her chest—including her striking presence and dazzling beauty.

"I'm Tarbeza, the astrologer." She said, her voice bright and unmistakable: "This beautiful man is our clerk—"

"I'm Bauer," her companion continued, bowing gracefully. Not only did the boss of Orison and the few characters who came to drink have a proud look on their faces, but the waitress who spoke sharply was even more flushed with her cheeks, and covered her face shyly, leaving only her fingers for her watery eyes to peek at. "Bauer" and "Tabesa", two names that bring a sense of familiarity to Jin Shaolan. ①

"Welcome to Dalaran,"

Bauer greeted the adventurers in the tavern warmly, a smile of joy on his face:

"In this time when we are tired and tired of people, thank you very much for your help, Dalaran needs you, every one of you, every strength."

Together with the beautiful female astrologer Tabesa, the two of them did not take their seats, but stood on the side of Olsen's bar, facing each other for an unobstructed view of the entire lobby. As Bauer spoke, Tabesa's forthright gaze looked at the adventurers—the contractors—with interest. Bauer's baritone-like voice continued in their ears:

“…… Let's be honest, our colleagues who went to Karazan's territory were driving us crazy - there used to be a lively town that was now completely decaying, as all the dead inhabitants were turned into ghosts. And they still can't determine the cause, let alone solve it. Not only that, but the flow of arcane energy there didn't seem to be right—and there was no clue about it. ”

"Every week, every day, every hour, there's a report from the Karazan Territory: they need a mage apprentice - a priest's apprentice, whatever it is, as long as it's a spellcaster's profession - an apprentice, an apprentice, an apprentice, a lot of apprentices – every hour passes, they need more apprentices!"

"It's not the most urgent thing right under our noses."

"You guessed it—yes, it's the Syndicate, those lost dogs who have their marrow in their bones. For the last two months, the mercenaries they bought with their money have been like mushrooms in the meadow, infiltrating, inciting, assassinating, poisoning—we're fed up with the panicked mayors and the rumored outposts calling for help day after day, we're fed up with the gutter rats, and we're fed up with the mad dogs that bark and bite all day long. ”

"So I hope that you will be able to answer our urgent needs more than Karazan, who can only send apprentices or other equally qualified people to help: I need to strengthen the defense of Dalaran with the help of all of you, and defend against the omnipresent mercenaries of the Syndicate. The scouts had figured out that they were currently using the ruins of the old site of Alterac as a temporary base, and that not only was a hiding place, but the rats seemed to be rummaging through the cabinets there. Clearing the ruins of Alterac - that's the kind of help Dalaran needs, because we can't afford to defend the borders of our own people. I'm counting on you—oh, I'm counting on you. ”

"Of course, if any of us are willing to go to Karazan and appease our colleagues who have gone crazy in the past in the rush to send apprentices to the town hall - at least let them send one or two fewer applications back - I would appreciate it."