After just over a day away, the West Coast looks very different from what Marcos remembers. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info whatever it is, it's in his area of concern. Whether it's the black-hearted bakers who add sawdust to their bread, or the never-before-seen alien blacksmiths who sell sword oil made in substandard proportions, or even those who dare to sell inferior magic potions not far from the Academy of Magic.

Marcos looked around suspiciously, and there wasn't too much ripple on people's faces. It was just another wave of war victims in their dull lives, and a few times a year the West Coast would come with a crowd similar to what Marcos observed. Most of them are refugees who have fled the war in their villages, and some of them are black-hearted businessmen who were originally local businessmen.

Carl and Blackburn walked into the hotel carrying parts of the Viper Cannon, and even though the streets were not too crowded, they still crowded through the entire street, simply because the parts of the Viper Cannon were too large. Blackburn sweated profusely as he placed the base and barrel of the Viper Cannon on the floor of Carl's room, his movements cautious, as if he were afraid of damaging the fiery tongue of fire.

"Alright, it's time for me to go back. Blackburn got up to leave Carl's room.

"Why don't you come with us to the tavern for a drink?" said Karnu.

Blackburn shook his head, "Thanks, Mr. Morin. However, I don't drink. He said with a little embarrassment.

"Really, you don't drink?" Karl looked at him with interest.

"Same with Fry. Blackburn pouted.

"Rest well, maybe you should clean your house. Carl pinched his cowboy hat and turned away.

Marcos wandered the streets a little aimlessly, and now he was the most confused person, and he had several different things to figure out. First of all, he had to figure out what Fett was doing now, and he didn't think the Revolutionary Army would leave Sky City easily. In fact, half an hour earlier, Captain Root had been standing in front of the gate with a blank expression. He searched most of the periphery of the palace, but could not find a single trace of an adventurer or mercenary.

Under his complaints, the revolutionary army had to start looking for a way through that gate. If Marcos had known, he would have stopped them, because it would have been in vain. Regardless, Marcos wasn't with them, so I had to wish them the best of luck.

Second, he needed to figure out the unusual aura that Keja had sensed in the palace yesterday, which was said to resonate with them, and Marcos felt the need to investigate. In the end, though not an obligation, as an ally, he had better figure out what Hoffman on Sanfan Street was trying to do. Thinking about this, he couldn't help but feel a headache.

But he decided to put these things behind him for the time being, because he was protesting in his stomach at this moment after fighting for a day anyway. So he found a restaurant to eat on the street from the Academy of Magic to the port. He sat on the wooden table, looking at the burning candles, and his thoughts flew into the distance again.

The guy almost brushed Marcos' body past him, the smell of alcohol permeating him, though he didn't feel any discomfort at all with the smell. After all, in a sense, he is also an alcoholic. He muttered and collapsed at Marcos' feet. The latter reluctantly walked to the other table, he didn't want such a guy to ruin his dinner.

Marcos looked at the feta cheese and the grilled lamb chops on the table, and oh my God, he had to say he was in love with them. After only two days in the sea, he was tired of the dry bread that served as a ration. If he could, he swore he wouldn't touch it again. He was a little impatient to start eating, but he tried not to look like a homeless man who hadn't tasted food in a long time, and he did his best to restrain himself from making some rude gestures.

"Damn Maffeo......" he muttered to himself as he stuffed the grilled lamb chops into his mouth, anyway, he was haunted by the fact that Maffeo had gone to dinner alone with Freya, but that was only because he didn't bring himself, he just wanted to enjoy the steaming food.

There was an unknown time for a group of people to gather, and their appearance seemed to be without warning, but with the same purpose. More than once Marcos had heard the word bard from the mouths of the passers-by, and he frowned slightly, Bard, he had the impression that these fellows had a place, and it was said that the music played by these fellows had a special magical power, but almost no one could confirm this.

The sound of the piano resounded at the intersection of the street not far away, and people stood still, listening to the sound of the piano that seemed to be full of magic. The melody it plays is long and beautiful, as if it can soothe all restless souls. Marcos subconsciously put down his knife and fork and listened to the sound of the piano, trying to find something from it. But in the end, he found that the song seemed to bring him only peace.

But he struggled to capture any glimmer of hope and courage in it, as if the song itself brought only a soothing heart and soul. Marcos would have preferred to call the piece a requiem if he could.

When the sound of the piano stopped abruptly, instead of thunderous applause and cheers, only the sound of sobs and sighs with very small decibels wandered back and forth in the crowd. They gradually dispersed, but more than one expressed his gratitude to the woman who played at the crossroads, as if she had brought them salvation.

Marcos put down the unfinished food, paid the gold to the boss, and left the restaurant. He walked slowly over to the bard, staring intently at the other. She didn't seem to notice Marcos approaching, she stood still, stroking the instrument in her hand.

"Young man full of questions...... Your steps are so heavy...... What makes your heart so confused?" she said suddenly, but not looking at herself, much to Marcos' surprise.

"You...... Is it a bard?" Marcos asked tentatively, not going to talk nonsense.

The woman finally raised her head and smiled slightly: "Everyone in the world has their own opinions, and I believe that for you, the identity of others may not be so important." Right? O man cursed by fate......"

Marcos didn't continue to show surprise, in fact he kept some distance from a man of the Bard's stature. When he was traveling alone, he had heard too many rumors about these guys. Some say they are good, others say they are evil. But this kind of thing needs to be witnessed with your own eyes. "That's right, you're a bard. Marcos pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, his tone seemed to be disdainful.

The woman still had a smile on her face, but Marcos could hardly see any ripples on her face. "So, is there anything I can do to help you?"

Marcos glanced at the black support behind the woman, on which a light blue ball of light was placed. "It's surprising to me, maybe you're a ...... at the same time Fortune teller?" he smiled, but there was no kindness in his smile at all.

"In this world, there are many beings who do not follow the law. If you have questions, maybe I can help. ”

Marcos narrowed his eyes slightly, and said meaningfully: "How much do you know about Sky City?"