Lille introduced a hotel where Vincent and his group of outsiders would have a better place

to rest. At least the boss there was a little kinder than the other bosses.

God knows if this is true or not.

However, Vincent, who had just arrived, could do nothing about it. Although he had read

about the city while studying in the Magical Society, it only introduced the population history

and well-known buildings of this place, and never introduced the accommodation

environment and catering service here. Since they didn't know anything about it, every choice

was essentially the same. So they came to the hotel that was highly recommended by the

Halfling.

The inn was situated not far from the subterranean bazaar, and it was quiet -- no dark elf

would easily come to such a noisy, messy and dirty place It was peaceful here -- though Vincent looked a little silly, holding the remaining five lizards

by the hand.

'The pub...' Hardy laboured, his level of subterranean lingua limited to fluent conversation,

seeing too little. "I say, Vincent, are we in the right place? This is a tavern. What kind of hotel

is this?"

Vincent looked closely at the old building, which was made of wood, something of a miracle

in the Underdark, with tethered posts for lizards at the door, and a large courtyard at the back

of the house, where several dozing Rothe were kept: Its role in the Underdark is to take the

place of the cattle on the surface. Its fur, bone, flesh, milk and milk are all available, making it

the most important domestic animal).

"This must be a hotel. It's just called a tavern. What an interesting place." Vincent flips the

REINS and his horse sits quietly, motionless. The Grey Dwarves had chosen him especially to

please the master. He was obedient and hardworking.

But it was Hardy who rushed into the inn, and he didn't care whether it was a tavern or

anything else. All he could think about was "wine."

He was not a heavy drinker, not at all like Newton the Dwarf. Gnomes didn't drink or make

wine because they liked to think; And that Hardy would have taken up the drink long ago,

had it not been for the fact that he had been too busy with his work at the Grey Dwarves to

enjoy it in peace.

When Vincent thought of wine, he thought of his fellow Dwarves and Lambert, wondering if

they had survived the Moon Harbor catastrophe. However, with their skill, they could certainly

escape from the harbor, as long as they did not risk their lives foolishly. But if they were still

alive, and saw the exploding castle, they might think I was dead. Would they have asked a

famous priest to give me a great funeral?

As for the elf Carol, the Wizard wasn't too worried. The Elves' defense system is almost

impossible to break, and they are supported by many highly capable magicians. And with the

giants staying in Moonport and not spreading out, she should be fine.

But Littlefinger Phelps is missing. According to the last word from Archmage Thomas, he must

have been teleported somewhere in the Underdark. It is not known if he is still alive. The only

way to find him now is with the help of the wand of Prophecy on the Black Crystal Tower.

The Wizard pushed open the half-open wooden door and entered the inn. Although the

outside was made of wood, the inside was the hard stone structure common in the

underworld, and the floors and walls were carved of stone that never ran out in the Underdark.

The vestibule of the tavern was not large; only a half-dozen tables and chairs were placed in

the corner of the room, where a few guests were stopping to eat the abundant food before

them, and only the clatter of knives and forks and crockery plates could be heard.

The human owner of the tavern, chin tucked, smiled at Hardy, who was laboring before him

for a drink in the common language of the earth. He was all round, and this, combined with

his long absence from the sun, gave his skin a sickly white hue; The thick fat hid the traces of

blood vessels, leaving no colour in his face; He was like a balloon that had been blown up,

and even the wrinkles had been smoothed away. The only part of his body that wasn't fat was

his right leg, which was supported by a stone-polished brace - a prosthetic.

Vincent looked at him for a long time and did not recognize his age.

But what attracted the attention of the passer-by was the burning fireplace in one corner. The

pale orange glow brought light to the tavern of this otherwise dark world, the kind of light

that pulsated in the eyes of your pupils and deeply buried the warmth in the hearts of

everyone except those Drow who had been forever consumed by darkness.

Instead of going to the counter, Vincent went straight to the fire. He moved to a nearby chair

and sat down. Holding out his right hand, which had grown pale, he leaned close to the fire

and felt the warmth. For a moment it seemed as if he were no longer bound by the gloom,

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that there were no more thousands of metres of rock above him, no more hostile prying eyes

around him; The Wizard was seven years back, back on his adventures with his friends, sitting

by the campfire, barbecuing Carol's shot, relaxing the tension of the day.

Suddenly a hand was placed on Vincent's shoulder, and the words floated through with a

strong smell of wine and a rude burp: "Oi! Where did you come from, boy? Get out of my

way!"

Vincent was feeling the comfort of the fire, and the intrusion made him furious. With a sudden

turn, he touched the intruder's chest with his right hand, still warm from the flame. As soon

as he saw that it was a bearded, drunken Geodetic, the magic in his hand worked.

A black light penetrated from his arm down into the drunk's flesh, and soon destroyed his

health. The troll's face turned first green, then quickly blue, and his eyes were suddenly blue

with the blood that had gathered from his drunkenness. The Geoblin staggered, his chest

heaving rapidly, and his mouth opened wide as he tried to breathe the air around him, but

all that came out of his throat was "Uh... Er..." 'groan. He tugs at his neck with his hands so

hard that his fingernails scratch the skin of his neck, leaving streaks of blood -- as if he were

reopening his trachea so that air could re-enter his shriveled lungs. His eyeballs bulged out

of their sockets as if they were about to fall out at any moment, and black blood ran down

the corners of his eyes.

Slowly, the Geodetic fell down, his eyes filled with reluctance and fear, and a single touch of

the mage's curse took his life.

The people in the tavern gasped and stayed away from the enchanter and the Geodetic

corpse lying on the ground for fear of catching any disease.

The wizard sat down again by the fireplace and continued to warm himself. But his black-

robed figure, in the light of the firelight, cast a great shadow on the ceiling of the tavern.

Many diners hastily put down their cutlery, dropped enough coins to pay the bill, and left the

place of trouble.

"Hey, is everything okay with your friend?" The fat boss with the prosthetic leg said to Hardy,

"I can't keep such a dangerous man here."

"Uncle Stonelegs, you have just promised the best room for the three of us, don't you forget

it so soon?" Hardy rolled his eyes twice and wore what he thought was the kindest smile.

"Won't you, Mr. Stonelegs, tell my friend the news? I think he would be 'glad' to get away

from that fireplace and hear the 'good' news that will bring him to another house."

Stoneleg looked at Hardy and then at the silent black figure sitting by the fire, and grated his

teeth. "Well, I'll get you the quietest room and tell your friends to keep out of trouble.

Especially not the dark elves."

"I knew you were a reasonable man, in fact, you don't have to worry, my friend is just a

momentary lapse." Hardy warmly patted the fat boss on the shoulder. His strength made the

soft flesh of Stone's legs vibrate undulating, and the prosthetics under the boss's legs made

a sound like rocks cracking. As for the innkeeper's expression, it was one of patience, in

addition to pain.

"The rooms have always been prepared; I will have them show you." Stonelegs bared his teeth,

fighting back two large tears that hung in his slit eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned

up in a smile.

Hardy went upstairs and looked around the room, then returned to the first-floor lobby of

the inn with a satisfied smile on his face. Just then Mark had just put the cattle away and came

in from outside the hotel with all three of their bags.

The soldier stepped over the rapidly rotting gnome corpses on the ground and walked over

to Vincent. "Master, we should get rid of those things quickly. It's not safe to stay around all

day."

Vincent stared at the pulsating flames, imagining the orange-red glow transforming into the

face of his friend. When he heard Hardy's question, the vision of the flame suddenly

disappeared, leaving only the crackling of the flames as they burned.

"Yes, take some things and let's go to the market. I don't know how much they'll fetch. I hope

we can find something good." Vincent looked at Mark carrying a big package, the weight of

the weight of the dwarf waist can not straighten.

"Do you really want to sell all this stuff? Can we keep some? ' Mark has always been curious

about these gems and what not. He would rather have nothing if it were possible.

"Don't worry, keep what you like. In fact, the gold coins and so on are enough for us to spend.

It is mainly to lighten your terrible burden." Vincent patted Mark's big pocket and helped him

put it on the ground.

Hardy lifted the bag easily and left the hotel with Mark.

A dark figure quickly receded into the shadows on the corner of the street. Without a sound

of footsteps, it disappeared into the sea of people.

"Vincent, have you noticed?" Hardy whispered.

"Yes, I noticed that too, proceed with caution..."