Servant Of The Necromancer

Olivia is back

Pedestrians on both sides of the street stopped to watch and admire the knight on the white horse. The young girls were talking to each other, and the look in their eyes was the kind of look a man would want a woman to show when she looks at him, that is, adoration and enchantment, and desire.

The horse is one of a kind, and the man on the horse is one of a kind. The silver glittering knight's armor seems not to be an external object that needs to be worn, but a natural reflection of his temperament that flows outwardly, so imposing, just because it is worn on him. A head of blonde hair that gives the illusion of dazzling, as if the light of the sun is carrying on the body, willingly become part of him. The sword eyebrows, straight nose, handsome but not at all lose the man's majestic face profile. The sunlight spilling over the armor and blonde hair, the light returning makes the onlooker think it is his own glory.

Of course, such a person must also have an identity to match his. A few of the passers-by whispered that this was the eldest son of Archduke Ernie, captain of the Royal Order of Paladins, and son-in-law of Duke Mrak, Knight Ernie Clovis. Among the listeners were young girls who immediately imagined that their mothers had had an affair with Sir Mrak.

Clovis did not care about the surrounding crowd of admirers. In his eyes, these stupid commoners and ants are no different, surprised by his own tall and magnificent natural, do not need to put in mind.

And he was annoyed now, or rather he had been annoyed for more than a month, and now he actually had to waste time here in slow motion. If he could, he would immediately draw his sword and kill all the pariahs on the street who were making the caravan move slowly.

The soldier had managed to escape from the royal capital, and might even have been lurking somewhere in the capital all along. He hadn't slept a single day in a month because of this. Once he remembered that the lowly bastard was probably hiding in a dark hole in the ground, laughing, gloating over his escape from a knight, and rejoicing over the knight's worrying headache, he would fall into an extreme rage. He vowed that when he caught the soldier, he would carefully and slowly pick off every most sensitive part of his body bit by bit like a manicure, leaving him howling like a dog in a pool of blood for three days and nights, licking the soles of his shoes with his dead tongue, wailing and begging himself to kill him quickly.

The only good news is that at least now the soldier has not revealed the news. It is possible that he himself does not know the true meaning of that news, to bury the matter with himself into the shadows forever. The progress of the orcs in the west is also surprisingly good, probably as long as another six months of time will be no problem. But the soldier is still like a bomb in an unknown situation, it may have been damped and failed, or may not know which day from somewhere suddenly manifest their presence, the whole delicate layout of things to get out of hand.

Today his injured fiancée was finally returned, and he had to put aside the matter at hand to go outside the city and then escort back to the ducal palace. He was very reluctant to waste his time on such things.

He hated wasting time in the extreme. Time is very precious, every minute should be spent very efficiently, should be rewarding, should be helpful to their own access to greater power and higher status is. It was his creed that one should live to advance and advance again, and he was proud to have such a creed to defy the untouchables who lived like worms for one day. So he hated everything that offended his proud creed.

And he also knew that she was equally reluctant to see herself. Her dislike for him was not of an outward kind, but a revolting indifference. This attitude was very annoying to Clovis, even angry. He was used to people worshipping him, admiring him, fearing him, and even allowing people to hate him, to hate him, which at least meant that in their minds he was a presence that could not be ignored, a proof of great power. But never allow others to ignore him, do not allow others to look at him as if looking at a cockroach in the corner of a slip.

There is only one person in this world who looks at him that way. If it was someone else, he would have done anything to tell that person who dared to defy him that he could tear anyone who underestimated him to pieces. But it happened that this person was his fiancée, someone who was about to carry that kind of gaze with him for the rest of his life. And now he has to waste a lot of time to protect her.

This was undoubtedly a very annoying thing to do, and he would never do it if he could.

But it can't be helped, there are times when the impression of the bystander is the key, the meaning of the matter. Duke Mrak's daughter was injured, with the relationship between the Duke and the Ernie family, the eldest son of the Grand Duke of Ernie and the fiancé of the Duchess, then he would definitely fly to the outside of the city, followed by his fiancée and carefully escorted all the way back to the ducal palace. Since people thought so, things only went so to demonstrate.

People have received, the two are very silent, did not look at each other, and did not say a word. Instead, as soon as they met, she asked her sister, in a weak voice and impatiently, where the young man who came to the ducal palace to report a month ago was. In her mind, that soldier was a hundred times more important than her fiancé. This made Clovis even more angry, but he was not jealous, in his eyes his fiancée or any woman was just a prop, it was just that this attitude of hers showed that from a certain point of view he was inferior to the soldier.

Which angle he didn't want to count, he just wouldn't allow a lowly hick to be suspected of surpassing him in any one way. I am the strongest, the most perfect, the most powerful, the top of the line. This concept has long been rooted in his brain, and it is also his pride. He was really a very proud man, so he was also easily annoyed and easily angry.

Maybe that damn soldier would take this opportunity to get to her. Then he could cut off the guy's hands and feet one by one in front of her, so that she could see who was more not to be ignored. Clovis thought so, trying to give some meaning to this boring action that put him in a bad mood. But he also knew that it was only a self-congratulatory thought, in any case, the soldier was not stupid enough to do so.

"Clovis, did you notice the way those girls looked at you?" Chris was looking at Clovis with what she described as her eyes, excitedly reporting her counterpart.

"Eh." Clovis concentrated in the middle of his own thoughts.

"Don't be so cool all the time." Cleese's eyes went a level deeper. The girl was his fiancée's sister. Seventeen years old, with a similar appearance to her sister, and more beautiful, is one of the few beauties in the royal capital, characterized by the typical noble girl's frivolity and unawareness.

Like all young daughters in the family, she was very much loved by her father. And when she was born, the Duke did not have much time to spend on the education of his children. And other noble children are no different growing up environment, but also the achievement of no different character. Some time ago she actually asked to go to a magic academy to study ancient books, but it seems to be just to add some aura of noble meaning to themselves, not much practical significance.

Clovis sometimes wondered why the Duke did not marry this daughter to him. Such a childish and superficial girl is easy to grasp, he can deal with it easily, and both for the Duke and for himself are much more convenient.

There was a sudden commotion from the caravan behind. "A man tried to climb the lady's carriage, but we caught him." A guard came over to report.

This report suddenly reminded Clovis of something he had just imagined, and a feeling of great luck came over him.

Several soldiers were pulling a man who was covered in a cloak. It was a hunchback, as if he was a cripple, wearing a cloak that looked like it had not been washed for centuries, and it was easy to imagine that this was a man who was engaged in some odd work in a dank basement.

Clovis looked carefully, he suddenly found that the cloak is actually very well worn, just enough to hide all the body parts of the man underneath, even if standing opposite, you can hardly see the face inside, and even the body shape is also blurred under the role of the cloak.

Clovis dismounted and stared at the face submerged in the shadow of the cloak, as if to pierce every detail inside with his gaze.

He took one step in front of the man. Each step is very slow and steady, as if the one in front of him is a ghost that only emerged from the gap in time, a little carelessness will dissipate into the air again.

His hand slowly gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist and ordered, word by word, "Pull the thing off his head." At this distance, he was certain that he would never let anyone escape again.

The cloak was pulled away, and the first to react was the soldier who pulled the cloak and was immediately startled into jumping backward a step.

This is a face that is very unsuitable to appear in broad daylight. The features were like a pot of boiling water melted and re-consolidated by hand, and like a poor clay sculptor who was not satisfied with his work and casually pressed a handful of the already ugly face. There is also a piece of purple and red flesh tumor oil can be seen, up as if immediately burst, flying out of the hot pus blood. "It's old man Sandru's hunchbacked assistant." Someone inside the guards immediately recognized it.

Clovis carefully scanned the face from top to bottom twice, could not find a single element that overlapped with the expected one, and only felt a pang of nausea. Turning to the guard who had just spoken, the annoyance and revulsion in his eyes could be felt by even the dumbest of cows, he asked, "You know?"

The guard clarified for himself with trepidation: "Not I know, but many people know that this guy is the assistant of the old man Sandru who specializes in corpses in the west of the city." A number of passers-by chimed in. One of them also shouted: "Hunchback, you think that is the carriage pulling corpses oh? Kowtow and admit your mistake."

Is it really just other people? Just a coincidence? But even if the wrong person was killed, as if it did not matter, can not let go of any subtle possibilities. A few veins floated on the back of Clovis' sword-gripping hand.

But he took a look at the face that really can not look more closely, and finally let go of the sword hilt. So ugly, engaged in so dirty things people, I'm afraid the blood is as dirty and smelly as the water at the bottom of the gutter, what if it gets on their clothes and body? What if it splashes on his face? This assumption made him feel like vomiting. He turned to his horse and ordered, "Get rid of him."

"Get out." The guard, afraid of dirtying his shoes, dared not really kick over, but only raised his foot in a vain shake and made a hushing sound to chase the dog away. The crowd of onlookers let out a roar of laughter.

"That man looked so scary just now." Watching the man put back on the cloak, limping back and disappearing into the crowd, Chris took Clovis' arm and made a scared face.

"Who was that?" A weak female voice came out of the carriage. Chris replied, "Nothing, just a madman."

At dusk, in the big house, Sandru is taking out the livers of two corpses and comparing them with each other, then cutting them into small pieces and soaking them in liquid, while Asa is helping to pass various tools.

A wild cat jumped in through the window, staring at Sandru and purring. Sandru casually cut off a piece of his hand and threw it to the wild cat.

"What if the bones there in the cervical spine cracked?" Asa asked.

"Throw it away." Sandru didn't look up.

Asa struggled to adjust the wording: "Not dead people, I mean if the cervical vertebrae of living people if the injury cracked how should be treated?"

Sandru raised the small hammer on the table, wave a muffled sound, the cervical vertebrae of a corpse cracked a section, said: "Try to put back together yourself." Then as if suddenly remembered, stared at Asa and said, "You still owe me three years and two months of work."

"I know." Asa replied.

"Then please think of my work for those three years and two months." Sandru put special emphasis on the words 'my' with an accent. "Don't go and get yourself killed. I hear you were very gallant today. But do you know that you really don't pretend to be crippled."

"And how can I pretend to be?" Asa asked for advice with an open mind. Next time he must talk to her to be able to do so.

Sandru picked up the small hammer from earlier. "Lift up your feet."

At the same time, inside the ducal palace, Duke Mrak was sitting by his daughter's bedside, telling her a made-up story. He hadn't done this sort of thing for more than a decade, and now that he was back at it, he was still light on his feet.

"He just left like that?" Olivia's eyes were full of disappointment inside.

Duke Mrak's eyes were also full of disappointment and said, "Yes. Such an excellent young man, I would have liked to keep him. But he insisted on leaving, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Next to her, Chris imagined her sister's story just now, languishing and sighing: "A man who traveled alone through the most dangerous swamp in the whole continent, and fought an orc to save a girl ..... This is really the same story as the one from the bard's mouth. He must be very handsome, with long hair that covers half of his eyes ...... By the way, maybe even a prince of one of the small countries." Said himself as if he was a bit inexplicably excited,.

"Did he say anything?" Olivia asked, her eyes full of expectation after disappointment.

The Duke of Mrak's eyes were full of the tenderness, tolerance and understanding that a loving father should have, and replied, "He told you to get well and not to go to such a dangerous place again. He will come back to see you sometime in the future."

"The situation reported by this young man is very useful. But it is a military secret that cannot be revealed to others, or else his hard work will be in vain. So you must not divulge to anyone else every word he says to you, nor tell anyone about what you met in the swamp." The Duke aggravated the tone of voice, slowed down the voice,more than the seriousness of the words also heart long and heavy. "You must remember that you can not let his efforts go to waste, understand?"