"Lord Baron, it's too cold, you can go to the bottom warehouse to hide first, it's not bad for this person's weight, just keep an eye on it here." Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info”

Moga was quite distressed when he watched Malte huddle there and tremble, he had watched the other party grow up, and naturally he couldn't bear to let him suffer here.

"I'm fine, Master Moga, everyone is here, I'll run back to the bottom warehouse and hide what's going on, I'm not a bad seed!"

Although he was shivering from the cold, Malt's words were still heroic.

He is no longer the lord of the high-ranking Truk Lord, and if he doesn't say a few warm words, I'm afraid that this team will soon be disheartened.

The "Rainy Night Swan" is a light ship, and with an alchemy circle engraved on the bottom, she does not need to compact the bottom like other ships.

On the contrary, for the sake of speed and lightness of the change, she had to keep the bottom compartment as empty as possible so that she could escape from the storm as soon as possible.

It is precisely for this reason that in such a cold weather, Malte and the others can only stay on the deck, huddled in the rainproof tent, and cannot go back to the relatively warm basement lounge to get a good night's sleep.

"Maybe I should exercise more on weekdays, so that I don't become a burden to everyone. ”

Although Moga was the oldest in the group, he had already undergone elemental training after crossing the golden threshold, and it may not be possible to resist elemental damage with his physical resistance alone, but it was not much of a problem to resist the heat or cold.

Malte, who has not yet been able to break through the bronze rank and become a full-fledged mage, is quite bitter in his heart, and he has gradually understood the value of his own power in the face of the great change.

The baron regretted it a little, if it weren't for the fear of hardship when he was young and embarked on the path of a mage, he would not be the powerless one he is now.

"It's me who didn't teach you well," Moga sighed lightly, "If I could meet a famous teacher, I wouldn't be like this for more than ten years." ”

"Look at what you said, I'm a student who doesn't fight, what does it have to do with you. ”

For his own talent, Malte still understands, it is not an ordinary rotten, and it is already because of Master Moga's careful teaching to have his current achievements.

While the baron and the old mage were talking to each other, there was a shout from the rope clutch, as if a sailor was reporting to the captain that two men standing on the front cleats and holding the sails had fallen out of the boat.

"Are we not going to do anything?"

Baron Malte, who had hurried from behind with the rest of the sailors, yelled at Captain McGonagall.

"Yes, my lord. They are already dead, and even if it were possible, it would be foolish to look for them, not to mention that it would be impossible. ”

McGonagall's loyalty was not to be questioned, or she would not have taken on a mission that would seem almost fatal to outsiders, and he was the only one who stubbornly called him Lord Lord when all the sailors called Marte Lord Baron.

"I have to beg you," McGonagall said bluntly, "take this group of people back to the tent in the back, I'll take care of it all, it's just going to take a little time." ”

Loyalty and respect are two different things, and although McGonagall did a good job of etiquette and everything else because of Grandpa Malte, the Baron knew that the other party was only showing loyalty to his mother in this way, rather than really respecting himself.

"Capable people are always rebellious. ”

Malte didn't pay attention to the other party's somewhat stiff tone, after all, on this ship, Captain McGonagall's value was infinitely closer to his own life.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have more people to help?"

The Baron was still a boy at heart, and he desperately wanted to fit in with the crew, rather than be shunned as he was now.

"It's a storm!"

The captain reached out and grabbed Malte, who had almost fallen on the splint, and the baron's hook-like fingers were in pain.

"It's not like the more people the better in this kind of ghost weather!"

McGonagall let go of her palms and waved the unsightly sailors to get out, but she didn't drive Mart away with a determined expression.

"On the contrary, if there are too many people in the way, we will be buried in the sea!"

"Lookout, who the hell let you come down, give Lao Tzu a top!"

People who have been on the sea for many years have a kind of ruffian, and this kind of scolding mother at every turn is the best response to the moody sea.

It has to be said that McGonagall's strong physique, which is comparable to that of an adult black bear, is still very intimidating, especially when he is angry.

Before the captain could scold a second sentence, the lookout, who saw McGonagall's anger, gritted his teeth and climbed up to the lookout in the wind and rain.

The scene in front of him made Malte envious, and to some extent, the choice made by the lookout was also a manifestation of McGonagall's prestige, and prestige was exactly what Malt lacked.

"Captain, the sails are frozen!"

From the lookout came the frightened voices of the sailors.

In this kind of ghost weather with extremely low visibility, the role of the lookout is not only to indicate the general direction of the ship, but also to observe the entire ship.

"Damn it," McGonagall cursed, "all the shit came together!"

In fact, with McGonagall's sailing experience, she should be prepared for icy conditions in this kind of weather, but the point is that he has long run out of manpower, so he can't let him, the captain or the helmsman, climb the mast, right?

"Tom—" the captain called out the watchman's name, "go and deal with the ice on the sails, I can't send any extra manpower!"

"Captain McGonagall, ...... in the back"

"How many times have I said that the guys in the back who can only sweep the deck are not the same kind of people as I need!

Xu was affected by the current danger, and McGonagall's words were no longer polite to Malte, who had not used his fart and kept causing trouble.

Tom did not refuse the captain's order, he knew that this was the only way to do it at the moment, and if he did not take the risk, the "Rainy Night Swan" would definitely be trapped in place by the wind and rain without the help of the sails.

"Anyway, my mother has already received compensation from the lord, and even if I die here, it will be enough for her and her brother to live a good life. ”

Wiping a handful of things on his face that I don't know if it was tears or rain, Tom tied the dagger and the daggard together with a rope, and now there was no time for him to go down to get the copper hammer and other ice-breaking tools, he could only choose to use the dagger in his hand to clear the ice.

Of course, he had to make sure that the dagger was firmly tied to his sheath, otherwise, if he didn't pay attention to let the dagger make a hole in the sail, it would be enough to see.