It has been a few days since the news of the victory on the Eastern Front came. In the southern region where information transmission channels are more developed, more and more news is spreading between cities and villages.
In the streets and alleys, in the card room of the tavern, almost everyone is eagerly discussing the recent amazing and exciting news, discussing the past of the Ansu royal family and the future of the Cecil Empire. In this land, even The most ordinary citizens will also express their opinions on similar topics, no matter how ridiculous and superficial the opinions are.
Rock City, in a tavern in the business district, bright magic spar lamps dispelled the darkness at dusk, rows of wine bottles on the bar shelves were polished to shine, and the liquid in the bottles was illuminated by the lights With a seductive brilliance, a small rectangular machine that looked like a cabinet was placed next to the bar. The country tunes that people in the southern region loved were playing from the small machine. The rhythm was simple, bright and cheerful.
A light shone on a nameplate on the top of the little machine, and the words "CORDER FAMILY CONNECTION COMPANY" gleamed on the brass surface.
A man in overalls was sitting in front of the bar. He took the beer glass handed over by the bartender and slightly raised it: "Cheers to the off-duty time."
"Joe, have you read the latest newspaper?" A tall and thin man sat beside him and said casually, "The royal family has come to an end—even the king has abdicated himself."
"Inevitably, didn't Mr. Godwin say that the royal power is over. After this battle, the whole kingdom can no longer survive. If it weren't for the rescue of our army in the south, the north might be completely ruined, and the royal family can no longer control it. To stop the situation, what else can we do if we don't reorganize..."
"It's true. The newspaper said that the eastern part of the Holy Spirit Plain has been completely turned into ruins. If Cecil's army hadn't blocked the river in time, the western part might not have survived."
"Hats off to Gawain Cecil—we'll be calling him His Majesty soon," the man in overalls laughed, shaking the glass in his hand, "not bad, he's much better than the king... Who is the king? coming?"
"It's Wales who just abdicated, but I guess you're talking about Fransey... It doesn't make much difference anyway, we don't know each other."
The two laughed, and no one seemed to regret the end of Ansu's royal power.
For a long time in the past, the people of the southern border did not care about their king. This abandoned land has been fending for itself a century ago. For that distant San Sunil and Silver Fort, many southerners Even treat it as part of the story.
Ordinary people are so practical.
However, not everyone thought the same. The sound of a wine glass hitting the table suddenly came from not far away, causing several pairs of eyes near the bar to turn away.
"I just can't figure it out..." A man with a beard reeking of alcohol muttered there, but the muttering could be heard everywhere, "Isn't he the Duke, the Duke... how did the Duke suddenly become the king... A duke can't be a king..."
"Hey, Potter, you're drunk again," someone familiar shouted from behind, "Have you been here since morning?"
Someone else reminded the drunk man: "It's not the king, it should be called His Majesty the Emperor—the title of king is gone."
"It's the same with the emperor... the emperor... and the government affairs department and the constitution, they're all a bunch of things that people can't... understand," the drunk stood up staggeringly, shaking off a few pairs of hands that wanted to help, Staggering past the bar, "What are you talking about, there are new opportunities everywhere... damn new opportunities..."
The swaying man walked down the aisle, stopped suddenly at the little machine next to the bar that was playing country songs, rolled his drunken eyes, and suddenly showed anger.
"You... loud thing, you ruined... ruined my job..."
He cursed, then suddenly raised his foot and kicked towards the machine - but before he raised his foot, the bartender behind the bar had already raised his hand, the magic device on the latter's wrist shimmered, and he felt cold The ice cube smashed on the drunk man's face, knocking him over on his back.
Two security guards stepped forward, grabbed the drunk man who was still yelling, and were about to drag him out the door, but the bartender stopped the security guard, came to the drunk man, and reached out his hand to take out a copper coin from the other party's pocket Come.
"Create ice cubes, one copper coin." The bartender shook the magic terminal that he used to make ice cubes and light fire in front of the drunk man, and got up and left after confirming that the other party nodded.
The drunk was dragged away, and the little commotion was just an insignificant episode. People continued to drink and chat as they should, and some unfamiliar people inquired about the origin of the drunk, and someone explained: "That Potter, a bard—a bad organist, really, and not many people listened to his noises, much less now."
"He went to the factory for a few days, and was fired for stealing things, and he didn't want to do other things down-to-earth. Now... I think he sold all his pianos."
"The bard... No wonder he thinks the Cord player has ruined his job."
"It's not just the player, he also blamed newspapers and Magic Network radio, even chess and football teams - saying that it's because these things attract people's attention that they don't want to listen to him in the square. The story and played out…”
It seems that this little episode sparked a discussion in people's spare time. Hearing the discussions around him, the man in overalls in front of the bar turned his head and glanced at the tall and thin man beside him: "Speaking of which, I Remember you're a bard too—now that you don't perform on the streets, do you blame the machine for ruining your job?"
The tall and thin man looked at the small machine next to the bar, then at his friend, and suddenly smiled smugly.
"Are you familiar with the voice in this machine?" He smiled smugly, and his smile became brighter when he saw the stunned expression of his old friend. "This is what I recorded... Well, although I only recorded two of them."
Many people around heard the conversation here, and some people couldn't help showing a look of surprise—seeing the people in the magical machine appearing in front of them alive, this feeling is novel and interesting no matter what, and it has gained a lot. The tall and thin man with less surprised eyes smiled reservedly, and added: "However, I really like telling stories more than playing, so I plan to try it at the Magic Web Broadcasting Bureau in Carroll City after a while. Bian seems to be recruiting someone who is good at storytelling for a new show…”
More and more people gathered around the bar, and a new focus of topic obviously appeared there, but in a corner far from the bar, a thin and pale man in an old robe with short brown messy hair appeared. He still sat quietly in his seat, seemingly not interested in what happened in this bar or the topics discussed by the people around him.
In front of this thin and pale man, a current issue of the newspaper was quietly spread out on the table, his eyes moved slowly on the newspaper, focusing on one of the pages:
"According to preliminary investigations, the disaster created by the Doom Society stems from the 'power of the gods' they stole, and the 'evil creation' that was jointly eliminated by the Cecil Legion and the siren allies seems to be the Doomsday Cultists An imitation of a god made by some means...
"The power of this imitation comes from the fallen god of nature...
"The god of nature is the god that the druids once believed in. There is evidence that the fall of this god happened three thousand years ago..."
The thin and pale middle-aged man finished reading the content of the newspaper, and suddenly sighed softly: "Such content...is actually printed in the newspaper, and let those common people who have just learned to read for a long time discuss it at will... Could it be that this is where we made the mistake? "
No one heard his deep exclamation. After the thin and pale middle-aged man finished speaking, he stood up silently. He rubbed his fingers lightly, and a wisp of flame suddenly ignited out of thin air, and burned instantly. Dropped the newspaper on the table.
Looking at the ashes on the table, after a moment of trance, he turned and went straight to the door of the bar, opened the door and left.
"Panshi City... I didn't expect this place to become so prosperous."
Walking on the streets of this southern gateway city, the middle-aged man couldn't help muttering when he saw the tall and brand-new buildings and wide and clean streets around him.
Then he noticed that the surrounding pedestrians suddenly ran away, and a large group of security guards in black uniforms, equipped with weapons and shield devices had appeared at various nearby crossings at some point, and quickly gathered towards this side.
The thin and pale man's first reaction was to reach out to touch his waist—a short sword for self-defense was worn there, but after noticing the number of security guards and the weapons and equipment in their hands, he stopped wisely.
A tall magistrate stepped forward, and the solid magic shield shimmered around the magistrate: "Sir, put down your weapon and raise your hands above your head! You are under arrest for violating the Extraordinary Control Act!"
While announcing loudly, the sheriff also quickly looked at the man in front of him out of professional instinct:
Wearing an old-fashioned traditional tunic, a lace-up cloth belt, hand-sewn boots, and wide-leg trousers under the tunic... an obvious outlander, and he should have just arrived in the South.
In the southern border, changes in labor tools and working methods have caused changes in all aspects—due to the safe operation requirements of various machinery and equipment, and due to the factory’s dress code, new clothing that is closed, light, easy to move, beautiful and practical has gradually become the mainstream. Tunics of all kinds, wide-leg trousers, wide-brimmed long-sleeved coats, and coats with tie-belt belts are gradually being replaced by tight-fitting gowns and light work clothes, as well as everyday variations of such clothing, although some scholars believe that this "machine The change of "determining people" is a kind of bondage and a retrogression of traditional customs, but it is undeniable that 90% of the laborers in the southern border are accepting such changes, and those who still maintain the old-fashioned clothes... are either relatively Old-fashioned people, or outsiders.
In this fortress city at the gateway to the south, the odds of the latter are higher.
The middle-aged man surrounded by security guards was obviously still in astonishment and surprise, but he still understood the meaning of the security officer, untied the dagger and short staff from his waist, put them on the ground, and raised his hands above his head.
The sheriff nodded: "Very well, sir, active cooperation is a good start—your name?"
The middle-aged man vigilantly observed the security guards around him. He was silent for two seconds, but finally he said cooperatively, "Bud... Bud Wendell."
"Mr. Budbud?"
The middle-aged man's face trembled slightly: "No, it's Bud Wendell. There is only one Bud."
The sheriff still maintained a serious face: "Okay, Mr. Wendell, you need to come with us next—whether you can be released depends on your performance."
"Why did you arrest me?" The middle-aged man finally couldn't help but said, "I didn't hurt anyone..."
"We've detected unauthorized spellcasting," the sheriff said, staring at Bard. "Times have changed, Mr. Wendell, where's your spellcasting license?"
Bud was stunned: "... a license to cast spells? What is that?"
The magistrate shrugged: "Okay, then it seems that you still sneaked in. This time, I'm afraid you will really be locked up."
The corners of Bud's eyes twitched, but after a brief moment of hesitant thinking, he finally sighed.
"It doesn't matter now...it doesn't matter," he sighed, "whatever you want, I won't resist."
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