Wine is a good thing, and it is a great help to enhance the atmosphere of emotional mediation. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

As long as you don't drink too much.

The older dwarf had a handy magic item, a flask. The flask is a flat silver jug that looks unusually delicate and ornate, with delicate lines that are very different from the dwarven aesthetic, and if you look closely, you can see that it is not painted with paint, but set with countless tiny gemstones. Anyone with a slight discerning eye can see that it is a beautiful work of art, those with more artistic knowledge can also see that it has a distinct elven style, and those who study elven culture can judge that it is not the style of contemporary elves, but the style of the ancient elven kingdom.

In fact, it is not an ordinary flask, but an extraordinary treasure.

Its name is "Endless Wine Bottle".

The name is enough to say that for every time it consumes the equivalent of casting a low-level spell, it can make some wine. If it is a fine wine, it can be made about one catty, ordinary sweet wine or spirits, about three catties, and foaming ale wine or ordinary bad wine, it can reach five catties.

Mages who are familiar with enchantment spells and crafting magic items may know that there is a magic item called the "Endless Water Bottle". The Endless Flask is something like it, but the efficiency of producing wine is much slower than that of water, after all, the two things are completely incomparably meticulous.

The older dwarf wasn't a very good spellcaster, but with his magic he could make the jug pour enough spirits, at least...... Enough for the entire exploration team to drink.

In fact, more than enough.

If it weren't for the few people like Hoppers who were either inherently drunk, or smart enough to pretend to be drunk after the first drink, and still be sober, perhaps the joint exploration team would have froze to death on the first night of their arrival at the camp because they were all drunk and sleeping.

Fortunately, after all, there are still a few sober people.

Hopus, whose face was flushed from a little drinking, dragged the drunken fellows one by one into the tent with a few people who did not drink, threw them on the beds with thick hay underneath, and covered them with quilts. Although it was not a heavy word for each person alone, the entire joint exploration team was full of hundreds of people, and now they were all drunk.

So, when the last drunken cat was dragged into the tent and covered with a quilt, everyone but Hoppus was exhausted.

"Rest, rest, everyone, take a good rest!" Hopus waved his hand to rest, and he himself came to the huge campfire in the middle of the camp, watching the flames that burned with magical power, feeling the warmth coming from above, and sighed softly.

"The first day was so noisy, I don't know what will happen in the future?"

He wasn't the only one who sighed so much on this cold winter night.

About 2,000 miles to the south, on the "border" where the forces of the merchant faction and the aristocratic faction intersect, there were people who made a similar exclamation.

"It was so troublesome on the first day, how can I get it later!"

The exclamation was made by a middle-aged man with half-gray hair, dressed in light leather armor that facilitated movement, and carrying an equally handy scimitar. Both the leather armor and the scimitar were so dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish them in this cloudy night, and the only thing that could be faintly seen was the white hairs on his head.

Near him, there were many people who were also dressed in black leather armor and armed with various weapons painted black. They even have black hoods around their heads, making them look like shadows that move freely.

Eerie, terrifying, and full of the smell of death.

In fact, they did what they did to bring about death.

At their feet, a patrol of nobles lay on the ground, each with more than one wound, even the smallest and shallowest wound fatal.

There was no doubt that the patrolmen were all dead. Many of them still had stunned and surprised expressions on their faces, and it was obvious that they had been attacked suddenly, and they died before they could even react.

"Check again. After the middle-aged man sighed, he said in an emotionless tone, "Make sure there is no living mouth." ”

The black-clad men, who seemed to be hiding in the shadows, swung their weapons again, adding at least two wounds to each patrolman's corpse that were large enough to turn the living into dead.

The middle-aged man watched all this with satisfaction, then waved his hand and led the group into the night, and soon disappeared without a trace.

The next morning, the nobles sent officers with some cavalry to search along the patrol route with some cavalry, and soon found the corpses that had frozen so hard that even the blood had clotted.

With a frown furrowed and a gloomy face, he looked at the corpses carefully before ordering them to be transported back.

He was a knight and came from a family of barons. These are the soldiers he brought from the territory, the private soldiers of his family, and many of them even grew up with him since childhood, which can be regarded as his hardcore team. He brought these people here to make a meritorious career or get a vote. But I didn't expect that before I got any benefits, I would die so many first.

At noon that day, after arranging some things, he galloped with a few of his own soldiers and galloped towards the station of his superiors.

It was getting late when they arrived in a small town. It was the residence of a viscount who, like the young knights, had traveled all the way to the border with his own private soldiers to see if he could reap the benefits. Because they have the same idea as each other, they have a good relationship.

The knight was surprised when he told him about the attack on his patrol, and then he began to worry that if the enemy, who could kill six experienced patrolmen at once, might not be enough to defend himself.

So he got nervous and used magic items to contact a higher leveler - the Count who controlled the territory.

The Count was not surprised by the death of a few patrolmen, for in his opinion, the dead were insignificant, and they must have been attacked by monsters.

Well, I was attacked by monsters, and this is a good explanation.

Although the knight had repeatedly insisted that the wounds on the patrolmen's bodies were definitely the work of weapons, not the minions of monsters, the Earl had already made up his mind.

Regardless of how the patrolmen died, he said that he was attacked by monsters, and that was attacked by monsters.

The indignant knight had no choice but to drink a great deal of wine with the viscount, who was also helpless and frightened, and became drunk.

They were drunk until the afternoon of the next day.

When the joint exploration team of the Merchant Faction and the Northwest Republic finally woke up from their hangover and had begun their work, the knight and viscount, who had been woken up from their drunkenness, got a shocking piece of news.

Lord Count was attacked and wounded, one of his knights was killed, and more than twenty soldiers were killed and wounded. (To be continued.) )