Servant Of The Necromancer

Troubleshooting

Clovis's hands were already drenched in sweat. He began to worry that he might not even be able to hold his sword firmly.

He had never been so nervous before, and he didn't even know his palms would sweat like this when he was nervous.

In the eyes of the majority of people, the Duke of Mrak is a powerful, shrewd and capable, know the ways of the world, just a very respectable politician, minister. But he knew that even if the battlefield, the first soldier, the Duke will never be inferior to any general of the Empire. If we talk about the physical skills, the Duke is definitely qualified to be ranked among the top five in the Empire.

The Duke had just given him and his men an instruction to do so - to ignore the person they were really trying to capture and watch the Duke himself as soon as he made his move, all of them immediately focused on attacking the person the Duke was attacking.

He did not ask the Duke what exactly was the person that needed such a big scene to deal with. He absolutely believed in the Duke's judgment, that was definitely an opponent beyond imagination.

It was the first time in his life that he faced a huge, unknown, and more than likely beyond imagination dangerous thing, completely beyond his life experience that had been smooth and frank and glorious since birth. So he was nervous.

Knock, knock, knock, three well-paced knocks on the door. The Duke called out cordially to the inside, "Old Mr. Sandru, I am back again."

Clovis hand gripped the hilt of the sword, usually and the palm of the hand so submissive so close to the hilt of the sword as if it had become a sweaty catfish, Clovis was afraid that it would suddenly slip out of their hands when the attack.

The Duke turned his head, looked at him, and said faintly: "Relax."

Only then did Clovis realize that his forehead was already covered with cold sweat.

Can not be nervous. Can not be nervous. Clovis repeatedly stressed to himself, hinted to himself. How can I be nervous when I am the best, the strongest, the most promising, the most capable person in front of so many men? It's just to capture a soldier, nothing to be nervous about. Repeat back in your mind the Duke's plan just now, thinking about every step you should take, when to use what kind of posture, how to speak calmly and calmly, and then swoop in when your opponent is taken by surprise ......

The large wooden door issued a 'creak' a call, open the door is a twenty-year-old, face flooded with a lack of sunlight pale young man.

Looking at this face, Duke Mrak was a little surprised. When the door was all open and saw the inside, Duke Mrak was even more surprised, even surprised.

And looking at this let him in the past two months tossing and turning sleep and food, simply more than the most affectionate lover's tied face, Kravis eyes as if to spit fire.

This is the man he saw two months ago, the soldier who learned part of their plan, the man who was a hundred times more important in the eyes of his fiancée than he was, the lowly pariah who made his own mistakes and mistakes one after another. And now this pariah even dared to appear in front of him in a dignified manner, looking at them like a group of unexpected and uninvited guests.

In his anger, he drew his sword, and he wanted to put the culprit who had defied him first on the spot. But as soon as the sword was sheathed, he noticed something strange. Everyone else, including the Duke, dropped their weapons and got down on one knee.

An open space was left inside the big house, and a carriage was parked there. Next to it were two priests and an old man.

It was a very thin old man, with both cheeks converging on the chin by a very flat margin, forming a very narrow face that made the otherwise small eyes above it look appropriate. Under the eyes there is a layer of dark bags under the eyes, it looks as if it has not been well rested for a long time. The old man was dressed in a set of pure white silk vestments, with a cross embroidered in white and gold silk on his chest, and a cross set with precious stones on a crown he wore on his head. This body dress emitted under the breath, even the room full of corpses also became very solemn, solemn.

Clovis hastily put down his weapon, knelt down on one knee, and gave a standard blessing salute: "God is with you, Lord Bishop Ronith."

"God is with everyone who believes in him." Bishop Ronith's thin face showed a modest smile and gestured for everyone to rise.

"My Lord Duke, what are you doing?" Bishop Ronith asked as he looked at the weapons all over the floor.

The Duke actually still managed to keep his face unchanged and looked at Asa and said, "We just suspect that this young man is a fugitive, so we are going to arrest him back for interrogation." He had long since seen who the young man in front of him was, and since the cripple could pretend, the hunchback could pretend, and of course the face could also pretend.

"Oh?" Bishop Ronith looked at Asa, his eyes like a pair of candles in the darkness, and asked, "Young man, swear by God's name and your own honor, are you really a fugitive from justice, as he said?"

Asa shook his head, "No."

Bishop Ronith nodded, smiled, and turned to the Duke: "He says he is not."

"Yes." The Duke nodded. Clovis' forehead was already soaked in cold sweat.

"I think you may have misunderstood something, or there is a mistake somewhere." Bishop Ronith helped the Duke conclude.

"Yes, it was our mistake." The Duke repeated. Next to him, Clawis' cold sweat was already running down the corner of his forehead.

"Since the misunderstanding has been cleared up now, there won't be any trouble in the future, right?" Bishop Ronith asked.

"Yes, there will be no more trouble." The Duke replied.

"You know, Lord Duke, that I am not interested in military or politics, nor do I want to have any interest." The bishop's lord spoke in a sentimental tone as if he was talking to an old friend. "So I don't want people around me to be involved in it either. You should know that this is the place of the Magic Academy, and the people here are also the people of the Magic Academy."

"Yes, please don't worry, Lord Bishop. We take our leave." The Duke said politely and gracefully like a gentleman who just walked into the wrong room.

After exiting the big house and dismissing the troops, Clovis said to the Duke, "His Grace the Bishop is designing to let us in, he is saving to protect that guy."

The Duke nodded, Bishop Ronith's carriage was not parked outside but deliberately made into the house, in case they saw the carriage and knew it was not good enough to make a move and retreated. The only way to get the word out is if they are going to do it with swords drawn.

Strictly speaking, the bishop is not much power, he is not able to adjust taxes, nor has the right to mobilize a soldier. But even the power of the Emperor, such as His Majesty, would not dare to fool him. Since he said he didn't want the soldier to have any more trouble, he really couldn't have any trouble.

Clovis felt that things had run out of steam.

The Duke asked him, "Do you think the soldier will tell His Grace the Bishop everything?"

Clovis shook his head: "I don't know, you tell me."

The duke also shook his head: "I don't know either, it seems the only way to ask him personally."

"How to ask?" Clovis wondered.

"Just ask." The Duke said faintly.

Clovis still did not understand, but looking at the Duke's calm and collected look, he felt as if things would still turn from bad to good.

The Duke said: "From a certain point of view there are only three kinds of people in the world. One is the people who have nothing to do with you, the kind of people you do not care, and do not bother. And the other is your enemy, this kind of people can not have too much, once there is then must be cut off the root." He looked to Kravis. "But if there is an enemy you can not solve, what should be done?"

"Use all my strength, all my means to defeat him." Clovis said with a gallant frown and a fighting spirit. He was already thinking about how to go about explaining to the bishop afterwards.

The duke shook his head with some disappointment: "You should find a way to turn him into a third kind of person - a friend. The more people like that, the better. Especially the ones you can't deal with."

"Friends?" Clovis looked like he was hearing that word for the first time.

At noon that day, just a little while after Bishop Ronith left, a servant from the ducal palace brought a letter to Asa.

The letter was written by the Duke's own handwriting with earnest words. He said that he was very grateful to Asa for saving his two daughters. But because of some unavoidable reasons, there was some misunderstanding. He is now very sorry for the previous misunderstanding between the two sides, which also has a lot of detailed reasons, it is not convenient to explain in the letter. Tonight the Duke will send a carriage to pick him up and take him to his house to apologize in person.

Asa turned the letter over and over several times, but never decided whether to go or not. He was afraid that as soon as he took his seat, dozens of guards suddenly rushed out to cut him to pieces on the spot, or eat a piece of food, drink a mouthful of water, and immediately bleed through the bowels of the seven holes. So he asked Sandru: "Do you think it will be dangerous if I go?"

"Dangerous." Sandru buried his head to sort out the body. "He will put a knife to your neck and force you to marry his daughter." Holding out his hand. "Give me the saw."

"I will introduce you to him if that is the case." Asa handed him the saw. But this was also a chance to get to the bottom of things. What was the misunderstanding? What happened to what he reported himself? How was Olivia doing now?

"Better go." Asa finally decided. He hated the feeling of having something hanging in the air and weighing on his mind. He liked the mantra of an old dwarf from his hometown who used to come and go around his house: even if it's a pack of s**t, eat it and don't let it lie in front of you to annoy you.

"Go introduce me?" Sandru cackled as he lowered his head and sawed hard at a corpse's leg.

"Yeah." Asa held the letter up to the sunlight and flicked it, hoping a hint would fall through the slit in the paper.