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Okles sighed and looked at the dilapidated little inn, hoping that he was not far from glory. The house was crouched and broken, and he recognized it only by a painting on the door with a jug of wine. It's also made entirely of wood, not stone, and looks moldy along the ground. It's also surprisingly quiet an hour after sunset. Five months later, he found that the barbarian lands of the north were as bad as everyone said they were.

He knew he could walk for another day or two before he really felt hungry, but he didn't feel the need. Even though the gods have made everything more difficult than it needs to be, he has succeeded so far. He straightened his cloak so that he could hide his sword, as sword leaves tended to make uncivilized people nervous. He dusted off his skirt, brushed his hair with his hands, smoothed out the hair that had fallen from his braids, and walked inside.

Andrux came out of the doorway and saw that the lights were still on, although some of them had gone out and were not back on. The room is furnished with a series of undecorated wooden tables and chairs, leaving room for a few people who sleep wrapped in blankets by the fire. Everything is quiet and lifeless; Only the waiter was awake, and he was no more than a pale, scrawny, unkempt brown child. He sat at a table, dangling his legs lazily. Seeing Androus come in, he jumped out of his seat wearily and bowed to him. "Welcome to the Kelder family, hosts. Please sit casually. Then he watched as Anders found the cleanest chair and table to sit on.

"You're not shut, boy?" A

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Okles asked. "Why is there no one here?"

"No, master. "We opened the door," said the boy, but he had to stop and yawn before continuing, "and we opened the door, and we had bread and cheese, apples, plum wine, and a warm fire. We did have some guests, but they are asleep now," the boy said, nodding at the fireplace and the people lying there.

"Will anyone come?" I just wanted to take a gamble. Anjex asked, not caring how annoyed he sounded.

"I don't know, master. I don't think so because it's a bit late and people don't usually show up after that long after dark. But tomorrow, when everyone comes back from the field, they can gamble. The boy replied.

Andrew sighed helplessly. He opened the purse, looked inside, and said, "Good." Looks like I have two copper coins left. What does this bring me?"

The boy looked at him nervously, then replied, "I want to...... A jug of plum wine and an apple, I guess. "Or use bread instead of apples." His eyes were fixed on the sword that was exposed as he sat down, as if the sword would jump out and attack people on its own.

"Do you have wine?" Or beer?" A

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Okles asked.

"No, master, only eat plums."

"How can you not drink beer?" I walked in the barley field for half a day!"

"I don't know, master. We just don't have it right now. ”

"Another pot of plum wine and bread."

The boy went to pick it up, and Andrakles sighed to himself, not knowing whether to let go of his sandals. Now that he really has no money, Della's hometown seems to be starting to feel distant. He may soon have to find a job, and who knows what the barbarians will pay him. That could be worse than being a slave. The boy reappeared, with an ordinary jug and half a loaf of bread in his hand, which he carefully placed in front of Androl so as not to let it roll out.

He took a big bite of bread. Actually, it's not bad – it's slightly saltier than the bread of the glory days, but it's made with fine grains. The waiter said, "I hope it will be good for you, master." Andlos just didn't take the distraction seriously.

The boy patted him on the shoulder and asked, "Master, can you give me the copper plate?" A

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Okles sighed and handed it to the boy, but the child seemed hesitant. After a while, the boy gritted his teeth and carefully took the coin from Androcleus's palm, trying not to touch his hand.

In "Legion of Glory," a boy his age would do his best for a veteran like Androclus. Thick and scarred arms and legs that have long enough to retire? They affirm that he is a hero and that he must chase them away in order to enjoy a good meal.

But the boy couldn't, because he was a barbarian and completely ignorant of civilization. The boy quickly bowed and said, "Thank you, teacher." Then he immediately turned around and walked towards the pile of cleaning supplies in the corner, where he half-heartedly began to do the housework.

With nothing to do, Anchors looked at him. The boy was clearly not an old Philo - flat, light brown hair, too pale skin, easily forgotten features. Completely ordinary child, nine or ten years old. A year ago, his speckled purple tunic might have been white and fitted, but now it's so tight that it's only halfway up to the knee. It looks like the boy will be cold this winter too, if that's all he has. I don't wear shoes either. One cannot help but wonder if all the barbarians dress their children so shabbyly, or if the owner of the house is a stingy bastard. The kid was obviously a slave, but in Glory, the slave looked like that was an insult to his master.

Anchors looked away contemptuously, staring at his jar, unable to make it through the second half. It tasted like it had been soaked in a pitcher all day and had been doused with too much water. It had no foam, unlike the beer he wanted to buy. In the far north, it should be beer, not cider. There is beer in the north, beer in the south, after all, it is wine made from glorious grapes. What do they do with this barley? He looked down at the drink again, but it was just a flat, dark surface with no color. This whole journey is getting more and more annoying by the day. If he was still alive, his friend Nikon must be laughing at him.

As if deliberately trying to interrupt his musings, the waiter suddenly struck Angelo on the elbow with the handle of his broom, splashing all the water from the jug on his chest, and dipped his dusty white cloak in purple plum wine. Andlos jumped to his feet and knocked his chair over. The boy was too frightened to wince, his eyes wide open, his mouth wide open, and his hands held the broom in front of him like a shield.

Andlox was as fast as a snake and grabbed the broom. "Go aside, kid." He said gloomily.

“…… Why? The waiter asked in a low voice.

"You've broken my cloak, I'm going to hit you in the back of your thigh!" Turn now! Androxes said, frowning violently, enough to cause lightning.

The boy's face became even paler, he cowered, and pleaded: "Please, master, please, I am sorry!" Poor!"

"Turn around, or I'll hit you in the head, you rebellious slave!"

"I'm not a slave, master, I'm just an orphan!" Come on! You look strong and you're going to break my legs! The boy said, his eyes widening in horror. He started crying. It's the look that Andlox has seen many times on grown men who beg me for mercy. This does not do the child any good. This could have been useful for his friend Dai Ocles, but Dai Ocles was dead.

"Turn around. Right now. ”

"Master, please forgive me." The boy said that he had not yet turned around, but had lost his resistance. He held out his hands and made a prayer gesture.

Andrux glared at the boy, suddenly feeling a little hesitant. The boy was skinny, weak and pitiful. Not enough to eat, no dignity, no surname, no future. If such a child dies, no one will notice except his owner. A bit like a penniless veteran, now he thinks so.

"Please, master, if I'm hurt, he'll throw me out! The boy pleaded.

This kid shouldn't have begged Androcle for mercy. Androcleus was not a benevolent man. "Now that I think about it, I might break your legs." He said angrily, putting the broom aside.

It took the boy a second to realize that he was out of the woodwork, but once he realized it, his sense of relief was so strong that it could be touched. He kneels down and bows as if he were in front of an idol as a sign of his gratitude. He jumped up and said, "I'll get you another glass, master." I'm sorry. ”

"I don't want to. The first half of that movie was terrible. "In fact, everything is terrible at this inn."

Now the boy looked annoyed. "Yes, master. Everyone is complaining, and I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I'm clumsy. But I'm an orphan, and you're kind, so I think Patos will bless you too. The boy timidly reached for the broom.

"Child, the gods can't see everything. I need the mercy of a god as weak as the Holy Child. ”

"Master, it is impossible for the gods to see everything, it is true. But some people are kind, and Patos is good. He's stronger than you think. More powerful than other gods imagined. He's certainly stronger than you. The boy said. After saying this, he looked into Andrx's eyes, and Andrx noticed for the first time that his eyes were dark black, not even brown, with small white spots like stars on them. For that moment of sharpness, the boy nodded respectfully, renewing his resolve to grab the broomstick. "I don't mean to offend you, master. Tonight I will pray to Palos to bless you. ”

"Change your mind, kid. The man was a liar and nosy. Pray to the god of a good soldier, like the sworn father of Arkos or the woodcutter. Andricles replied, taking off his cloak and wringing it out on the ground. A large amount of plum wine dripped from the barrel and splashed on the ground, and the boy began to wipe the floor with a rag, pretending to be slick and silent. A

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"They call Passos a kid and an orphan, but he's also a bit of a jerk in a lot of ways," Okles added.

He frowned, wondering if the gods had heard the blasphemous. Everyone curses the gods, but it is stupid to curse them individually. If one of them hides Della and he never sees his money again, it can only be the luck of Androcleus. They were so vicious.

Because he doesn't gamble, when the innkeeper wakes up in the morning, he can't afford to pay for his accommodation. He figured it was time to leave, so when his cloak was wrung out, he said, "I guess I'd better go sleep somewhere else." Kids, be careful with your broom handle from now on. Anchors said, strapping his cloak over his shoulders.

"I will, master. Keep your eyes open and wait for the blessing," the boy said.

He snorted and said, "Unless it's big enough for me to trip, I'm sure I'm going to miss it." Then he put the wet cloak over his shoulders again, pretended to be as calm and majestic as he could, and left.

As he walked north through the village, the moon was round and bright, almost halfway across the sky. It's cold, but it's just enough to be annoying. It's just cold. He ought to have beaten the boy, for he had broken his cloak; There's no way he's going to sell it now. Next, he must sell his sword, and in this land, a good iron sword cannot be sold for a good price.

Anger made him less tired, so he decided to walk a few miles to the countryside and sleep again later tomorrow morning to enjoy the moonlight and solitude.

As soon as he stepped out of the rickety wooden wall, he noticed that the wind was blowing, and the wind was biting. Maybe he won't go far at all. He began to wish he still had a shirt again. Selling it didn't bother him at the time, because no one would wear them without armor, but it would keep the wind out. At least his sandals and skirt were well trimmed.

The road stretches roughly northwest, and the moonlight illuminates the hills and mountains, making them sparkle like ancient silver. The dense trees on the hillside, which look almost like unprocessed wool in the moonlight, are evenly distributed over the landscape. He casts a long shadow, which seems to be a little longer than the shadow of the moon in "Glory". Maybe it's because he's further north.

East, West, South - he traveled through all the civilized world and most of the barbarian lands, but was never taken north by the army. Everything he knew about the wild north was what Della had told him, and she was always vague and preferred other topics. So far, he has not been impressed.

After about an hour, he knew that he was having a good time and that his mood had improved, but he began to get nervous, fearing that the boy would really pray to the child and that God would decide to interfere in his affairs. Unless the gods were going to throw Dra's lap and put all his money in sacks, he would rather they stay on their own. He didn't have the time, the resources, or the will to respect them; It's better to be ignored.

As he walked across a small bridge over a dry canyon, he stumbled and fell with his toe on something sticking out of the wood. He immediately looked around to make sure no one saw it. Of course, the road was still empty. He cursed loudly, sat back, and leaned closer to examine his toe so that it could be seen in the moonlight. It didn't bleed. Or broken. I poked it like this, and it hurt like I had been bitten by a wild beast. He fumbled for the nail he had kicked and was going to pull it out and throw it as far as possible. When he found it, it was completely wrong in shape. It was round and flat all around, and it was ......

Andax pulled it out of the middle of the plank and held it up to look at it in the moonlight, and he had to grin. It was a quadruple gold coin that somehow fell between the planks and missed. It's impossible. A fourfold piece of gold is worth a hundred pieces of silver. It's a full season for a soldier. It seems that he was kind to that orphan! He couldn't help but laugh, laughing loudly, until the empty night.

"Thank you, great God Patos!" I'm going to use some of it to feed the next hungry orphan I meet. He promised to the stars. After a while, he said, "I'm sorry I called you a jerk."

When he got back to his feet, he noticed that his steps became brisk, commensurate with his good mood. He began tossing the coin into the air, listening to the crisp sound it made as it swirled. Although he could hear a large pack of wolves howling in the mountains, they didn't seem to be close enough to catch his attention, and they wouldn't want his gold.

What a coin! If he were still alive, his friend Ophimios would have persuaded him to divide the money or gamble it, Androcles thought with a smile. Before the sun rises, Euphemios will find a way to throw it away or waste it; This person's salary is always paid after a week. No, the best thing to do is to divide it somewhere and use one part of it to buy another cloak, maybe a tunic or a robe. And some beer, it's refreshing and intoxicating. For months, he did whatever he wanted.

Maybe a mile further, he'd find Dela's body, clutching a pocket with all his money in it. Then, perhaps, he could give gold coins to some widow to worship the gods, so that she and her ten hungry children could be fed for months. It will be a heroic thing: suddenly appear, a war veteran, with his noble head held high, in front of a weeping widow with a sick baby in his arms. Of course she would starve, and that would happen in a sunny city market, where she begged with a lot of people around her. They all saw him walk up to her and throw the huge gold coin in her hand, with a kind expression on his face, full of determination and kindness, and they would use him as an example for educating their children.

Ha! Then he would retire and return to his estate and farm to find a new wife, and she would bore him four handsome sons and a beautiful daughter, in that order.

It's a delightful thought. Gold sparkles in the moonlight. Indeed it is. He flipped it higher and higher, pushing it into the air with all his thumb. After about another mile, he tossed a coin from time to time, and was pleased to find that the breeze had done its job, and that his cloak was finally dry. Stained, but dry. He tossed the coin higher as he walked. It's heavy, which is good. Let the robbers rob it! Androcles will dedicate the blood of this man to the earth as a sacrifice to the mutilators, and the robbers will meet the ghouls Macron. Or some other god has taken away the wicked of the land.

At the very moment when the coin reached its highest point, a white object sprang out from behind the bushes, teeth biting into his thighs and passing right through his thick linen skirt.