"Where is he?" I asked.
The king trot over to me and stopped on the first step, his hands gripping the railing and his chest made me back up the stairs. "Who?" he said groggyly. "Who?"
"Kate! Samurai!"
"Oh!" he said. "That yellow guy! He doesn't need him anymore in his body. I have to wipe the wreckage myself—just like the floor of a slaughterhouse, with gray viscera and feces everywhere... Bloody things, little dust. Bloody. Business."
I'm not surprised to hear that Kate is gone; no one can survive the shattered rock. What really surprised me was Breichen's indiscreet attitude towards fighters. I don't understand what this means, and my own feelings about the news, or lack of such feelings, further frustrate me-I don't have this feeling in my heart.
"He should be my guide," I murmured. "My North Star."
"It's never been that simple, Spike!" said Blakin, rubbing a tendon in his neck. "You can't be held by your hand! If you want to be sentimental, can I help you hold his hand? I put it in the bucket."
I smelled a disturbing smell. "you're drunk!"
"And you are a shit mixer!" he snarled, slamming his fist against the railing. "I'm not angry at all, you bastard! I'm a centaur! Do you know what a centaur means?"
"No. I don't."
"This means I can drink the blood of your weight, and I can lead an army to the battlefield! And I fucking won! Good to win!"
He tilted his head back and swayed, reminding me of my Glasgow uncle Tan at every family gathering. "If you want to talk again," he added, "I'm going to help you wipe the dust off your body, right?"? Listen to me, kid! Watch out for me!"
"I didn't say anything! Hey, I didn't ask to come here! I don't want to come here!"
"I don't want you the fuck! Why do these mud monkeys always call at my door? I swear that one day I will kill the scientist! Flatten his face with the fat ears of a cricket bat-it's kind and good. A proper second death, let them all go to hell!"
He stepped on the steps and I took a few steps back. What is disturbing is that the hair on his arm is covered with Ma Lu, and he is walking towards his shoulder.
"This is the rule!" He exhaled. "The door I opened is the room you can see. That's what I fucking said-I am the only law here, if you dare to violate my law... I will interrupt you that is trivial Little neck!"
His eyes stared hungrily at my neck and Adam's apple.
"Now," he added, "you have seen the restaurant and your own residence... it will be enough for the time being. At this moment, I am hungry. I am starving! I will show you the kitchen. From now on, you will cook for me, but wash your hands before cooking—I won’t eat anything prepared by your contaminated buttocks and fingers!"
"I'm not your fucking maid!" I blurted out.
"Did this little dust say something wrong? He asked, a cockroach crawling out of his curly beard. "Do you want to see yourself blown to pieces? May I get the mop?"
He rubbed his fist and five chubby knuckles, and I lowered my head obediently.
"sorry."
The stick shook again, and then swallowed the cockroach whole into his mouth. His teeth creaked, then he wiped his mouth with his beard.
"Another rule issue!" he added vaguely. "From now on, you will be a quiet little mouse. Zero curse. Also, try not to breathe. The sound of your inhalation and exhalation pierced me like a knife. Yes, I hope you are a Quiet little mouse. What do you want to do?"
"How?" he asked, stomping his hooves on the stairs.
"Answer: "Quiet little mouse," I mumbled.
""what? what?"
"A quiet little mouse."
"The right mouse! Now go to the kitchen and get me something to eat. If you spit on my food, I will know, I will know, and I will kill you for it!"
I can't believe my ears. For Kate and Scarfell, I think I have met all the tyrants on the unique planet. When he stared at me seriously, I bit my tongue. Finally, the centaur retreated from the stairs, and I followed him to his kitchen, clenched my fists, and cursed the smelly beast in a low voice.
Bühler's really strong figure doesn't need a chair. He sits at the dining table and starts to eat the meals I prepared in his disgusting kitchen. This is not a kitchen, but a cold storage that uses outdoor temperature to store food in barrels. In that refrigerator, if my relationship with the king continues to deteriorate, I will inadvertently see a solid piece of wood, which I might use to lock the door of the cell.
The food itself includes all kinds of creatures found in this cháo wet cave-bats, shrimps, mushrooms, biting crabs, spring spiders and funny newts. Then came the spirits, I guess he made it himself-endless barrels stacked on the glacier wall.
A week later, I was sitting at the end of the table, facing Bregen, holding a glass of water and a bowl of clay stew. My stomach is uncomfortable and I will not be allowed to eat, but Brekin eats with relish and drips these things on his beard. Useless utensils, his fingers full of insects are very satisfying; if I have energy, I will vomit.
I do not understand. Why does he value my washing so much just to eat like him? Why did he spend so much time building a beautiful golden seal and majestic marble entrance, but he lives in the dirty place below? This objectionable creature is far away from the heroic centaur riding on the back of the fire-breathing dragon. Is it marble and seal, is this magnificent geological hall just a majestic march? The pretentious appearance of a fallen king
He always sticks his spear safely by his side when eating. This weapon has pierced my neck before.
Moments away from his stomach, Blukin looked up and watched me poking my food.
"Don't play with your food urinal! Do you want me to get you a skipping rope, kid? Can you use it instead? The food is for eating! Be careful of me!"
"This food is good," I whispered, "except—why does it taste the same? Everything in this world is made of bark!"
"Why don't you eat the bark and then pee?" he shouted. ""Why not? Of course I want to see! Of course I would!"
I sat lazily in the chair, Buhler really protested, and a piece of bread fell from his horrible beard net.
"Where did this scientist's guts come from?" he whispered. "Send this rude mob from the mentally handicapped generation to my house? Live with me?"
His temper was very violent, and once he got rid of his control, he could no longer control it. "With the kindness of my heart, I gave this little dust free board and lodging! He never opened his mouth to speak, and sprayed shit on my dishes with one mouth!" He is now staring at me from the other end of the table. "Do you want my spear to pierce your stomach, mouse? It must be more interesting than your own, or what you call a "bark poke"!"
"I'm sorry," I said timidly. "This is just an observation."
My apology is far from enough to resolve the king's complaint. "You may not like the taste, but eating is a must-you will get used to it."
It sounds familiar, I think, when Blue really threw his angry expression into Gade's sky, clenched his fist and cursed the angel. The groan of his drama is like an old drama actor who has completely mastered his acting skills; after this award-winning moment, he let out a lingering sigh. "Only in heaven can you taste delicious food and drinks. Do you think this place is like heaven? Is it? Answer me, mouse!"
"No!" I said sharply. "No, it's not!"
The stick leaned arrogantly on the table and said with a sneer: "You wet weeds are simply heaven to me! Then, tell me, what is wrong with my home for the righteous people above me? "
"Nothing!" I said, extinguishing his new flame. "Nothing at all!"
"No fucking! Some people's bloody rudeness..."
From now on, I think it’s best to speak only when others are talking to me, and not get involved in further arguments.
As the meal continued, Buhler was really fussing at the small bones on the plate, I heard him complaining that there was no meat to eat, and then there was the roar of thunder and lightning in the distance. Above our heads, passing geodes crystals and thousands of tons of rocks, two marble walls collided with each other.
"Damn bird!" the king roared. "Create your own home from your damn mountain! Winged pests..."
I pushed the water and stale stew aside-the trap brought my thoughts back to Kate, "He doesn't want to stay here either."
"Oh, can you shut your mouth?" Blackin groaned. "Regardless of his reputation, that yellow man is a murderer-certainly not a big deal murderer!" He grinned, his swollen mouth filled with more things. ""Is he a genius swordsman? Did you escape from hell? Overrated rot! For my trap, this is an out-of-work job. "
I really don't like Kate, but in just a few days and hours, the Centaur has far surpassed him. "Fucking bastard..." I mumbled.
Suddenly, the stick's mouth stopped chewing, leaving only one cheek-covered with food. He said something, something he didn't fully understand. The dullness in his eyes is clearly visible, as if waking up from a long hibernation. His forehead wrinkled, and the millipede began to crawl off his arm, like a huge army retreating. At this time the centaur's lips opened, and his tongue spit out a mass of compacted food, which rolled down from his beard like a snowball. "Say it again, mouse? Say it again?" (to be continued) (end of this chapter)