A few days later, under the leadership of the dwarven butcher Bogul, the group arrived at the lone wolf village.

At first glance, this is not a village at all, it is surrounded by wasteland on all sides, unsheltered, and the north wind howls and rolls up clouds of dust. There were a few old houses scattered across the ground, but they had all collapsed, leaving only ruins. Some ice spiders crawled under the broken bricks, full of vicissitudes.

Everyone, including Rod, scoffed at the place the dwarf Bogur had found, but Bogur was sure. He led the group under the tree, which was an old tree, so old that no one knew its age or its variety. It takes five or six people to hold the thick trunk hand in hand. The trunk of the tree is as white as snow, and it is full of holes, as if it has been through countless wars.

It was under this old tree that Bogur found the village of his mouth. I saw him squatting in front of the roots of the tree, digging open a layer of soil vigorously, and a heavy stone gate was displayed in front of everyone.

"Dungeons?"

Rod asked curiously. Before crossing over, I was most interested in dungeons, which are an important part of all fantasy worlds. Dragons, demons, and other terrifying creatures are all entrenched underground.

But in the eyes of the dwarves, this is not a dungeon.

"It's a deserted village. ”

Bogur replied. Then let everyone help him push open the stone door.

"There are no institutions here, don't worry. Many years ago, it was a temporary stronghold for dwarven hunting parties, but it has long since been abandoned. It's still on the map, but damn it's a dead man's place. But we can take refuge in for the night. ”

The dwarf continued, lighting the torches and leading the group inside.

Admittedly, the temperature here is much warmer than outside, and importantly, you don't need to worry about storms. In the land of trolls, it's normal for a storm to come every now and then.

Everyone was very relieved, but the bear spirit was uneasy with his paws, and under Rod's several persuasion efforts, he was unwilling to come in, and in desperation, Rod could only let him find a place to spend the night outside.

"Aren't you worried about him?

Caroline asked, holding her torch and cautiously following Rhodes.

"Don't worry about it, it will take care of itself, Usok is much better than us in the wild. When I met him, he was living in the Troll Mountains, a hundred times colder than here. If you can survive in that kind of place, you don't have to worry about his survival in the rest of the world. ”

Rod replied with a smile.

Soon, Bogur led the group to a resting place, an underground hall. It can be seen that it was once a resting place for dwarven hunting parties, with traces of flames on the walls and animal bones scattered on the ground.

Bogur swept the broken bones aside and lit a fire.

"Don't worry about running out of air, friends. It's very warm, and when the dwarven craftsmen built the village, they opened up five vents, which connected to the ground, so there was no problem with air circulation. ”

Bogur said, sitting down by the fire and beginning to bake his big rough hands.

"Alright, let's start drinking and preparing dinner. ”

With that, he walked straight to Rhodes' guards and unloaded the travel backpacks.

Since there was no prey along the way, at most hares and rats, which were the only meat, Bogur took the rats and hares out of the way, skilfully skinned them with a knife, and then strung them with sharpened branches, set them on a wooden rack, and began to grill.

Dwarves prepare their own food, but like humans, dry food is used as a backup, and if you can't catch prey in the wild, dry food can be used to feed you and help you get through those difficult days. And if there is prey, then, eat the meat of the prey first. After all, meat and vegetables don't last as long as dry bread.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

Just as Bogur and Rhodes began to prepare dinner, Celta's actions attracted the attention of the dwarven butcher.

"Don't you see? I'm looking for some available treasures. ”

Celta replied nonchalantly as she rummaged through the skeletons and chests.

"I warn you, Yankees, it's best not to rummage through dead people's things. ”

Bogur said sternly. His eyes flashed with dissatisfaction, indeed, the culture is different, for the dwarf, it is a great disrespect to the dead to take something from the dead. However, for the Norscans, this is nothing, and they never waste a single useful thing. Located at the northernmost tip of the Old World, the Norsca Peninsula is known for being barren and inhospitable, and everything is a precious resource. They don't waste a single item. It is a matter of time for a son to wear his father's clothes to the battlefield.

"Alright, alright, some rotten food and rusty axes. ”

Celta said, throwing away the trash in her hand and returning to the crowd.

"Dulong City, its story dates back thousands of years, and at the earliest time, it was a stronghold established by the dwarven expedition team that explored north at the southern tip of the continent. As the Dwarven Empire flourished, more and more people ventured north, and the stronghold slowly expanded and became larger. But at that time, it could not be counted as a city. Later, a group of dwarves who studied wind magic were banished by the High King and came to the north. With no way out, I came to Dulong City. Over the next millennium, more and more dwarves came to settle here, especially those who were banished and homeless, and finally arrived in Dulong City. Dulong City has slowly become a real city. It is built on a high hill with a river culvert underneath that connects directly to the sea. It is the most prosperous dwarven city in the north. You can feel it for yourself when you get there, and it's definitely not comparable to Blackhammer Castle. ”

In front of a crowd of people, Bogur talked endlessly about the history, culture and current situation of Dulong City. The fire roasted meat, and a sense of peace and warmth spread through the room. Everyone listened to it with relish, after all, Blackhammer Fort was located on the border, information was closed, and there weren't many scholars, so the people here didn't know much about the history beyond the North. Listening to the dwarven Bogur tell their history is like listening to a story and a legend.

And Rhodes sat on the sidelines, sharpening his long sword. He knew these stories, and the most important thing at the moment was not to understand the history of Dulong City, but to think about what he would use as his main trade goods at that time. After all, this trip is not only to see Dulong City, but also to increase the trade income of Black Hammer Castle, which is equivalent to increasing one's own wealth. After all, Blackhammer is its own territory. The income of the territory is the income of oneself.

Just as everyone was patiently listening to the story, suddenly, Celta by the fire shouted loudly.

"Something got into my skin! it's tearing at my flesh!"