Jando Skolewalker raised his head and stared out the window at the starless night sky. After years of governance, the thick atmosphere of Nostram still obscures the brilliance of the celestial bodies, like a veil that a stubborn widow refuses to lift.

He saw the bright streetlights, struggling to dispel the darkness of the street. A young woman walks slowly with a baby in her arms, she stops and goes, shaking the child in her arms from time to time.

She was relieved that Nostram was in order, and that the security around the Black Tower was still good. After all, there might be a member of the Hunting Guard like Jendor, who was peering out from the training room of the secondary tower

Jando watched the mother disappear to the end of the street, took off his hunting jacket, and threw it at the hook. But he didn't hear the sound of the fabric rubbing against him, or the crunch of metal buttons.

"Cynthia." Without looking back, he said, "Can't you be a little polite?" ”

A faint puff of smoke swept across the tip of his nose. A tall woman stepped out of the darkness, carrying his coat in one hand. The resemblance between her facial features and Jando's one shows that the two are related.

Cynthia Skolewalker shrugged and took a long puff on her slender cigarette. "It's just that you're not a good learner, my dear brother."

"You're always cheating with that little trick." Jandor rolled his eyes, "Damn witch, you don't understand the essence of stealth. ”

"It's better than the last time you went from the Sentinel to the depths of that gang's lair." Cynthia spit a mint-flavored smoke ring in his face, "You've ruined the reputation of the Hunting Guards. We're batwings that come and go without a trace, and we're flying rats at best. ”

"It's a shame that I'm still the number one Guard kill by far, a good neighbor to the people of Nostramo." Jando shook strings of metal utensils around his waist, some of which were still clinging to suspicious stains and making a clanging sound.

Cynthia gave him a disdainful look. "Do you know how hard it is to clean up the mess for you every time? It's harder than I can do it myself. Can you sometimes restrain that sick hobby? Even for those who are unstable, this is a bit extreme. ”

"This is merciful austerity." Jandor yawned lazily. "Isn't it also a form of protection to deter disgruntled people with fear and keep them away from crime?"

"It's not like you're doing penance every time."

"Serving everyone makes my heart sweet, what's wrong?"

Cynthia scoffed and pressed the cigarette butt against his collarbone. A curling cloud of smoke stroked his chin. "Less flamboyant for me. You found something through the atmosphere from that abandoned mine, right? ”

"Probably." Jando replied ambiguously.

"Well done."

"You sound a little too sure."

His sister pouted. "The doors of the Black Tower are open, and you know why. The last time I opened it, it was an adult who predicted the arrival of this thing. It's time for you to get him back to life. ”

Jando's inky dark eyes flashed twice. "It seems that he is indeed what our king needs."

"Him?" Cynthia made a questioning voice.

"I don't know how to explain it to you." Jando looked behind her, and a thin teenager appeared in the darkness, his eyes as deep as a bottomless mine. Cynthia spun around. Apparently, the Queen of Shadows was frightened.

"The kid said he was hungry, so I brought him something to eat first." Jando replied calmly, glad to see his sister's embarrassment. "Thank you for the information, now I can take him to the Lord - anything else?"

"Who is the Lord?" Without warning, the boy spoke, speaking the perfect Nostramo language. Cynthia frowned again, and before she could ask a question, Jondo answered her first: "I'll just say a word to him, and that's it." ”

Cynthia pursed her lips. "The Lord is our ruler and jailer."

"What sin have you committed to be locked up by him?" The boy hissed.

"Our ancestors sinned." Jando replied, "Many years ago. He disciplined those people, and he chose to bind us with order, and he reshaped Northcramo. ”

The boy tilted his head, unable to see any emotion of approval or disapproval. It was only with those abyssal eyes that he stared at Jando, and after a long time, he nodded.

"That's not right." He said, "You shouldn't be detained, you're still a bastard." ”

Jando raised an eyebrow, realizing that no matter what kind of child he was, he was the same annoyance.

"But that's the way it is, little one." He made an inviting gesture. "Will you come with me to my lord?"

The boy was silent for a moment.

"I don't know," he said softly, "I've never seen him." ”

"It would be weird that you could." Jando shrugged, "Even we, his guards, don't often have this kind of opportunity. ”

The boy pondered for a moment, then nodded stingily.

————

As usual, when he crossed the threshold of the Black Tower, it was like passing through a puddle of icy water, which made Zhan Duo feel a spirit. It's a good thing Cynthia isn't there, otherwise she would have laughed mercilessly at her brother again.

He raised his head and looked at the scene behind the door, the prominent aura condensing into wisps of white mist. He knew that this was a common phenomenon of spiritual energy gathering, and the power of the lord was confined to every square inch.

In the center of the hall, he saw a flight of stairs that spiraled up to the upper floor. The nameless boy looked at him suspiciously.

"It looks like the Lord agrees with this meeting." "He slept on the spire of the Black Tower, where every brick and tile changed with his message, and there were Assassins who wandered the endless ladder for dozens, or centuries?" By the time we found him...... Forget it, don't mention this. ”

"Sounds like a monster." The boy replied, staring into the darkness with dark eyes.

"No, he is obviously benevolent, and only such a person will use power and power to reshape us." Zhan Duo replied lightly and stepped up the stairs, followed by the young man.

They walked for a few minutes, and the journey wasn't long, but it was clearly not what they saw on the first floor. A heavy carved gate appeared in front of it, depicting many grotesque scenes in golden paint, hovering snakes, winged birds, ferocious hounds and fat worms.

Jondo stepped forward, and before he could raise his hand, the door opened silently, and a color deeper than the darkness poured out from within, washing him like a wave, enveloping him, coiling around the boy who stretched out behind him.

In the center of the hall behind the door, a man with his head bowed occupies a towering throne. Like all the furnishings in the room, the throne was unadorned pitch black.

The man was unusually tall, even to Jando, his robe showing pale skin, slight scars and stitches spreading, and his hair as black as a raven's feather hung down to the side of his cheeks, not moving at all, and there was no sign of any life.

There was no breathing, no heartbeat, and all evidence to support the individual was gone. He wasn't supposed to be alive, but some force rejected reality, filling the room with his presence and blending into the deep darkness - no, the darkness was his spillover.

The boy felt the air freeze, his skin tense in the cold, and some kind of presence cast his gaze at him. This gaze was more like an erosion, slowly rubbing against his soul.

"Lord." Zhan Duo put his hand to his heart and leaned forward slightly to salute the other. "I brought what you wanted."

Silence, an emptiness that does not even have a trace of breath. Then the man on the throne spoke without warning.

"Very good." He replied in a hoarse Nostramo voice, softly and silently, as if the latter had been swallowed up by the darkness around him. "Thank you for your efforts, Skolewalker."

"Who are you?" The boy interrupted the other almost unreasonably, "Why do you know about me?" He paused. Why am I ......? When looking at you, you only see a void? ”

"I am an unhealed fistula, an ember of flames, a dreamless sleep." The king said in a dreamy voice, "Hello, Conrad Coetzes. ”

"Who are you calling? That's not my name—"

"The name is someone else's title, but it has no meaning to me, you can't change my mind, unless one day you can defeat me and use power and power to restore order."

The boy, or rather, Conrad, bit his lip and looked at each other with inexplicable eyes. "Then I should know who you are."

"I am a shackle and a slave to this planet, a jailer and an illegitimate child, and her cry of curse is all that I am, so the name doesn't matter to me. But if you have to choose a title, call me ...... Victor bar. ”