As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, Phil Gray and Patrick were already sitting by the fire in the tavern. The owner was exceptionally generous today, adding extra white stone to the fireplace; only such a warm flame could ward off the cold winter outside.
“Cousin, when do you think we can go back? I just contacted them again, but there was no response.” Patrick picked up his wine glass in frustration.
"Our current strength is useless if we go back; it will only cause them trouble."
"Alas, God of Destiny, please grant your devout followers a swift victory over those evil forces," Patrick prayed, closing his eyes.
“The snow outside has stopped.” Phil Gray walked to the tavern door, looking at the streets and houses buried in snow, until a dusty merchant bumped into him.
"Excuse me, sir," the businessman, whose nose was red from the cold, quickly apologized.
"It doesn't matter."
"It's so cold outside, I can't stand it," the businessman complained, casually finding a table to sit at and then giving Phil Gray a smile.
Phil Gray nodded in response.
Then the merchant continued, "In winter, you should go to southern cities, where it won't be so cold."
Phil Gray continued to smile but did not respond.
"I don't know how many people will freeze to death this winter. I just saw a homeless man huddled at the door. I don't know if he's still alive."
"tramp?"
"Yes, sigh. I was only thinking about myself earlier. Now that it's warmer, I'm worried about that homeless man and want to go check on him." The merchant stood up and shivered from the cold.
"I'll go take a look. You rest for a while."
Phil Gray suddenly thought of the homeless man from yesterday. Could it be him?
"Thank you, sir. You seem like a kind person. The god of life will bless you."
Stepping out of the tavern, I saw a homeless man lying by the wall at the entrance. His clothes were tattered, his hair and beard were covered in snowflakes, and his only leg was wrapped in a rag. It was indeed the same homeless man from yesterday.
"Hello, would you like to come to the tavern to warm up?"
Phil Gray asked, but there was still no response, just like yesterday.
"cousin?"
Patrick walked over, his fiery red hair standing out starkly against the white world.
“Let’s help him into the tavern,” Phil Gray said.
Patrick frowned. "He's filthy. My name is Gene..."
"Alright."
When Gene arrived, he proved to be a professional servant, quickly moving the homeless man to a seat in the tavern, attracting the attention of many tavern patrons.
"I've ordered some bread and hot water," the merchant said, placing the plates over.
But the homeless man still didn't react, and they suspected that he might have some mental problems.
After Patrick sat down, he kept staring at him, occasionally scratching his hair and muttering to himself.
"What's wrong?" Phil Gray put down his breakfast and asked.
Don't you think he looks familiar?
"Where does it look familiar?"
Phil Gray tried to make out a familiar outline on his dirty, bearded face, but he couldn't.
“He looks a lot like the Duke of Surrey…” Patrick said hesitantly in a low voice, “His eyes are similar, and his nose is too.”
"Duke Sari? Isn't that the Grand Duke of Puna? I heard the other day they were discussing the succession. Duke Sari only has one daughter, but also an illegitimate son. It's a question of who should inherit the title." The merchant interjected with great interest, showing an unexpected sensitivity to such news.
"Don't illegitimate children have no right to inheritance?"
“But I heard that this illegitimate child is the princess’s son,” the merchant said in a low voice.
Many people in the tavern subtly pricked up their ears.
Phil Gray keenly caught the fleeting glint of something unusual in the homeless man's bewildered eyes.
He wondered if this vagrant was really related to the Duke of Surrey they were talking about.
Filled with curiosity, he lowered his head slightly and glanced at the homeless man, his lips moving slightly but no sound escaping—"The Eye of Fate."
The real world before my eyes gradually blurred, while another scene gradually became clear.
He saw a noble boy with short brown hair and black eyes like a vagrant. He was sparring with an older man who looked very much like him, who was probably his father. They were holding long swords and their moves were constantly changing. In the end, the boy actually managed to defeat his father.
The scene changed again. The noble youth, dressed in the silver armor of the Knights of Destiny, knelt on the ground, his eyes gleaming with confidence. Meanwhile, a man in a white papal robe raised his sword and patted him lightly on the shoulder a few times.
Phil Gray stared blankly at the Pope in the scene. The reason he could recognize him was because the white robe he was wearing was one he had worn many times, and one that he had personally burned in the Barry family's yard.
The pope in the scene also has long gray hair and ice-blue eyes. The only difference is that he is middle-aged and looks more mature and composed. Could he be the original owner's father, the former pope?
He had no time to think further, because the scene changed again. He saw the young man, who had lost his childishness, holding a long sword and walking blankly on an empty road. He seemed to have aged a lot, his clothes were worn out, and he even staggered as he walked. He stopped again, squatted down halfway and started crying, still clutching something in his hand.
Phil Gray squinted and examined it closely; it appeared to be a somewhat withered Flower of Destiny.
The scene abruptly ended, and Phil Gray was somewhat disoriented, his mind still a little foggy, but it was much better than when he vomited blood last time.
Moreover, he successfully saw the changes in the homeless man's previous fate. This must be the true power of the Eye of Fate. With his divine power increasing after breaking through to the first tier of the God of Death's favored one, the effect of the Eye of Fate became even better.
The information we obtained this time was also astonishing.
If he guessed correctly, this vagrant was not only the son of the Duke of Surrey, but also the exiled knight that the apostates had been searching for.
"Cousin, what's wrong?"
"fine."
"So who do you think will inherit the throne? Princess Sani is no pushover." Patrick watched as the merchant and the tavern patrons were already engaged in a heated discussion, temporarily ignoring them, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "She even pursued your father before."
“This has nothing to do with us. Go and book another room with the owner, and then have Gene help this gentleman inside.”
“Of course it’s related. Princess Sani has a good impression of our Holy See because of your father. If her son inherits the title, wouldn’t she donate even more money to our Holy See every year?” Patrick continued rambling on, but after hearing Phil Gray’s instructions, he exclaimed in surprise, “Book him a room?”
"Cousin, aren't you being a little too kind?"
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