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Fifteen counties and provinces in the northern interior began to relocate their residents...
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The Change of Fashion: From Red and Green Roses to Red and White Roses
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The Champion Knights' Conference is expected to be held next spring, and the winner will be honored by Her Majesty Queen Evelyn.
Although it is a newspaper, it is not available every day. Newspapers of this era are only supplied to some cities, three issues per month, and the content is limited, but it is still very popular among nobles and wealthy people. After all, it is really important to have the latest information.
It is said that this was handled by a certain wizarding organization and earned the organization a lot of profit.
When Loran Hill sat down gently in front of Miss Heron, he woke up from the information in the newspaper.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, sir." She put away the newspaper a little embarrassedly and quickly finished the remaining food.
After that, he straightened his clothes a little, hesitated for a second or two before taking off the black hood, revealing the dark chestnut hair underneath.
The dark chestnut hair looked relatively soft, with a few spirals at the ends, revealing a bit of girlish cuteness, making Loran Hill realize that the witch in front of him was actually only in her 20s and not very old.
Shaking his head to show that he didn't care, Loran Hill then spoke.
"I didn't expect it to be chestnut hair. It looks good. The light was not good last night, so I thought it was black." Loran Hill didn't talk about business at the beginning, but eased the atmosphere a little.
Hearing the girl's praise, He Lun was a little excited, but he tried not to show it. However, he still proudly introduced his origins in his subsequent words.
"My father has short chestnut-brown hair. He is from the Westerlands. In his early years, he worked as a mercenary and a small merchant before settling in the North."
"As for my mother, her hair is indeed black. My grandfather's family runs a pharmacy, and my mother helped out there when she was young. One time, my father was injured and came to the pharmacy to buy herbs and potions, and that's how he met my mother."
"Because my grandfather didn't want his daughter to go far away, my father settled down in that small town and they got married."
"Then how did you become a witch? I heard that the inheritance of witches is not open to the public nowadays." Loran Hill held the doll and looked at Miss Heron curiously.
"As for me, it all started with an accident when I was a child..." He Lun slowly stroked his hair with his hand, lost in memories.
"When I was about 10 years old, I got lost in the forest because I was playing around. I ended up walking into an empty cemetery."
"It's a very special cemetery. There are no roads around it, only tall oak trees. It's also very quiet, and you can't even hear birds singing..."
Even after many years, Miss Herron still remembers the scene of that day clearly.
Under the dark shade of the trees, broken stone tablets stood quietly. Many of them were covered with moss, and even the words on them were somewhat unclear.
The tombstone was in the shape of a circle, surrounding a dead oak tree in the center. The oak tree seemed to have been broken by lightning, with most of it charred, and only a small number of branches still growing green leaves.
Unable to get out of the forest, tired and hungry, Helen was very scared. He squatted in the corner of the ruined cemetery and cried softly.
The sky was getting darker and darker, and the surroundings were getting more and more dark, and she was getting more and more frightened.
She didn't know how long she had been crying, but her voice became a little hoarse and she buried her head in her knees.
Until the sound of light footsteps was heard in the quiet darkness.
At that moment, she was extremely scared, thinking that some undead spirits had woken up at night. The old people said that these undead spirits would devour the flesh and blood of the living and then turn them into the same as themselves.
He Lun wanted to run, but unfortunately everything was pitch black, a starless and moonless night. Even things one meter in front of him could not be seen clearly, as if his eyes had never existed or been opened.
She fell to the ground, and a stone scratched her palm, leaving a tiny cut that burned with pain. Dirt stained her fingers, and her head hit an unknown stone tablet, causing her to feel dizzy and dark.
Finally, like a match being struck, an orange lantern lit up in the night, and two figures in black robes stood quietly in front of her.
"It's amazing, how did she get in? She has no power at all," one of them spoke, her voice clear and beautiful.
"Perhaps this is just a coincidence of fate. This place is under the influence of the tree shade magic circle and only opens once every three years. This child is really lucky, or unlucky." The other voice was much older and a little kind.
"Will you accept her? Now that our inheritance is about to be cut off, this may be the final revelation from His Highness."
"The witch's legacy, the witch's heritage, perhaps it's time to leave... I had already given up hope, but this child..."
The old voice sighed with emotion, then slowly bent down and picked up Helen.
When those hands touched him, Heren felt as if he was being supported by old tree roots, and the skin on his wrists was very rough.
A faint halo appeared, the pain in her body gradually disappeared, and then she soon fell into a peaceful sleep.
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"From then on, I began to learn all the necessary knowledge for a witch from Grandma Aifona, from identifying herbs to casting spells, from making potions to familiarizing myself with history, and so on."
"Every afternoon, I would go to the oak tree house in the forest to see her. Occasionally, Grandma Aifona would prepare some snacks for me. Those were the happiest times of my childhood."
"The 'Warm Oak' witch school is the follower and successor of the Oak Witch, but the Oak Witch died hundreds of years ago, so our school has gradually declined." Miss Heron finally introduced her school.
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