Chapter 388 Interlude

Since learning that they would pass through the elves’ territory, Sorian had never been at peace, but when he knew that the elves would provide some “gifts of justice”, the old dwarf calmed down again, at least he would not hold the axe tightly and remain silent like he did at the beginning.

The huge box of gems that he regarded as his life was lost in the war, and the dwarf, who was once rich enough to rival a country, has now become a penniless wanderer.

Lynch knew that he had had enough of the elves' ridicule when he was in Ulthuan. Unfortunately, for the sake of gold, the dwarf had to endure the elves' ridicule again. Lynch would not seek the help of the rain forest for such a small matter.

So when he hypocritically told the inexperienced oracle about his legendary experience, Lynch didn't believe a word of it.

"You must not want to know about the woman I met in the Tavern in Altdorf. Just as she claimed, she has half-elf blood. You must not want to know the story between me and her." The dwarf winked and exchanged glances with Eugen in a low voice. Lynch knew that an ignorant human was about to be deceived.

"Go on, I'm very interested. After all, we are friends, and as a friend I need to know about your past." Their conversation was not a confidential one, because everyone knew how loud a dwarf's voice was, and even if it was a low voice, passers-by near the carriage could hear it clearly.

Apparently, Eugen didn't care about the ambiguous looks from passers-by. He stared at the pubs in the streets and alleys seriously, cold and distant, like a true prophet, if you don't consider that his eyes would "inadvertently" fall on the streetwalkers from time to time.

Lynch could understand the excitement of the young species. Spring was approaching, and this poor cub had never had a chance to vent along the way. Maybe Lynch should take Tigris away and give them some privacy.

No, maybe Lynch should leave alone and leave the three of them some time to relieve the pressure.

But the journey after that would be boring. Lynch didn't have much time, but he wasn't in a hurry either.

The dwarf pointed at Eugen mysteriously until the latter could no longer maintain his solemn attitude. Then he rubbed his fingers and said clearly:

"You know, in dwarven society, you have to pay a price for everything, so that you can get help within a certain range."

While Eugen was fumbling in his pockets for money, the dwarf had already begun to tell his little story.

"She has no hair, like every elf, and I can't tell the difference anyway. She smiles at me like every woman in the tavern. Five silver coins, she told me."

The dwarf suddenly stopped, and continued only when Eugen reluctantly dropped a copper into his palm.

"It is said that she is one-tenth of elven blood, or maybe one-eighth, I can't remember exactly. She said that one of her ancestors was an elf."

"I thought elves wouldn't combine with humans." Eugen seemed to have really fallen into the trap. Lynch couldn't bear to look at him and looked away. Appropriate little jokes can indeed play an educational role.

If half-elves existed, they would be everywhere by now.

"She said whatever she wanted. When I brought the donkey over, I didn't know how to describe her expression."

"That sounds like the Druzy way. They really aren't picky." Tigris interjected without changing his expression.

Only one of the three people in the carriage believed this story. When the "Priest Sigmar" mentioned by Sorian discovered the affair in the tavern and joined in, Eugen vaguely realized that something was wrong with this sloppy dirty joke.

He had dealt with Sigmar priests before. Even if he was not a priest disguised as a Slaanesh believer, a proper priest would only appear in a situation where there were only two people.

The carriage headed south along the winding avenue, turned at the fork leading to the pier, and spread towards the East City.

The wooden houses in Erengrad are very low, and you can see directly to the other side of the city if you stand up straight.

The Elf District is located in the south of the city near the dock, next to the city’s south gate.

Of course it was impossible for Lynch to leave the city directly. He could endure the journey day and night, but others could not.

The further east the carriage went, the fewer pedestrians there were on the road. At least the road was no longer blocked.

It might be because those gentlemen and ladies of less noble status had already gone to the docks, factories, and mercenary trade streets, and only a few poor people who could not afford the boat fare and needed to go to the South City continued to travel along the extensive roads.

The locals seemed to call the area Lynch was passing through the Low Country, home to the poor.

Of course, since it is near the water, this place is also a commercial area. Every alley is lined with shops. Lynch only took a quick glance and saw many items that are precious to mortals.

There are handicrafts from elves, as well as some tools and weapons from dwarven legends. Furs hunted by the Norsemen will also appear in the market. Without exception, all shopping streets have their own order maintainers, either merchant guards or local gangs.

Lynch looked up at the temple of the goddess Verena on the other side of the river, and couldn't help but feel a sense of irony - the temple of the goddess of justice was the most rudimentary of all the temples of the gods.

The latest novel is published first on Liu9shuba!

The Temple of More in the southeast cemetery was enough to make his wife jealous, not to mention the spectacular Daha Temple reflecting the sunlight, and the Ersun Temple in the east of the city, framed by flowers and strange rocks and cascading down the hillside.

Apparently, justice and knowledge are not welcomed in this city. Instead, the healing temple of Sharya is quite glorious. Perhaps it is because the local Sharya priests never care who the healed person is. Health can be bought with money.

Only Thor's temple could rival Lady Verena's abode—an empty stone tower was all that remained, on a hillside outside the city, and the ratmen had not invaded it.

A casual glance allowed Lynch to discover an old acquaintance. At least he still remembered the other person's appearance, but he didn't know whether the other person still remembered him.

Vison Whaler argued in a deep voice with the merchant who tried to lower the price. He was not an unworldly Norscan. He was once a member of the Knights of the White Wolf and he knew the price of a complete skin of a wild beast.

He could understand the merchants' pursuit of profits, but he had left room for the merchants to make money. As long as they were taken to Oster County for resale, the batch of mammoth furs he brought would allow this greedy guy to earn enough net profit to buy a manor.

The Skylin youths who were traveling with him were not sure why and were ready to fight. They knew nothing, but after deciding to leave the tribe and venture out into the world, they vowed to obey their leader and follow his steps.

Wisen cannot let them down. In the civilized world, food, clothing, housing and transportation all require money. They cannot repeat their old ways. This is an attempt that must succeed - the Norse people also have the right to join civilization.

(End of this chapter)