Blood of Mercury

After Roland finished all of this, he took out Cheskov's wizard's robe upside down.

By the way, Cheskeoff is Karl's high-level wizard at the Waste Development Bureau. He is a standard Su Ze man with a tough mind - but in front of Roland's visceral divination that directly searches for memory, his tough will has no effect.

The amount of information in one month's memory is very large - even if the pictures of some unnoticed details are blurred, they can already tell Roland a lot of things.

Through his memory, the combination lock on his wizard's robe was easily unlocked by Roland. Excluding those useless casting materials and some spare change, Roland found a total of four ghost coins and six silver coins.

This was enough for Roland's plan.

Although Ming coins are definitely not spent, these silver coins are really not a small sum of money.

The currencies of most countries in the Northland are made according to Elcate's standards, and even if there are some differences in content, they are not too far behind. After all, only gold and silver coins of similar weight can be used as casting materials.

This is the rule set by the sages and saints of Elcatel. One gold coin is equivalent to thirteen silver coins, one silver coin is thirty copper plates, and the silver content of about three hundred silver coins is equivalent to one pound of silver - this conversion ratio is equivalent to the conversion ratio between year, month and day, It is precisely because of this that these three currencies are also blessed by the saints and have their own unique characteristics, allowing them to exist as spell-casting props, and will not be arbitrarily modified by various countries to coin purity.

Generally speaking, the salary of an elite infantryman of the black iron rank is about 60 silver coins for 13 months a year. Six silver coins is not too much, and definitely not too little.

Roland pinched the six silver coins, pondered for a moment, then wrapped Cheskeoff's wizard's robe and stuffed his frozen head under the bed, covering the vase full of broth with frost to pray After cooling down a bit, put it back in place and jumped out of the window.

Afterwards, Roland went around in a circle and spent two and a half silver coins to buy a black scarf, a delicate hand basket, and a hairnet studded with broken gems.

Next, Roland walked to a sparsely populated place. He knocked out a stern woman from behind, and let Sleeping Embrace **** some of her blood, and then made some subtle adjustments to the shape of the black robe to make Roland's figure even more slender.

Then Roland turned his head and entered the hotel again.

After entering the hotel from the main entrance. Roland finally realized why there was no magic dust pollution here.

I saw that on the ceiling of this hotel, crystal lamps made of magic dust were densely distributed throughout the corridor, and the walls were covered with living murals containing magic.

Roland couldn't help but feel fortunate that he didn't go out just now.

Who would have thought that it would be so deadly that it happened to run into the wizarding hotel?

These living murals are masterpieces of cursed wizards. There is no difference between being able to leave the frame and a living person, one by one is the same as a surveillance camera.

but. No problem now...

As long as Roland wants a little more hot soup, he mixes the human broth he cooked in it, invites people in other rooms to eat it, and even lets those coolies with group spots on their faces eat it together, so that one person's meat can be easily eaten. no more.

There is really not much meat in the human body, not counting the internal organs and bones.

But he didn't cook the skull that Roland put under the table.

In order to prepare some props for Miss "Brain Eater Helan", a complete head is necessary. And it's not too big, Roland can easily take it out and hang it in the subway after using it - I believe the people from the Waste Bureau didn't find it so quickly.

I saw Roland walk into the hotel. A neatly dressed waiter immediately walked towards Roland.

This is impossible in a hotel outside the White Tower. Not to mention the waiters, even the hotel owner can't take a bath every day, that is the patent of nobles and priests.

Only in the wizard hotels set up by Baita officials in various cities, those excellent waiters who specialize in serving those wizards who love cleanliness can dress up like this.

"This guest, are you staying at the hotel or..."

"I'm looking for someone, and a broth, thank you."

A soft voice came from under the cloak.

It's a girl, not very young--

Although the various guests covered their faces, the waiter responded correctly just by the sound.

He frowned immediately.

...isn't it those nightingales trying to get close to the rich wizard master again?

"Make it clear first. Who are you looking for? And who are you..."

Before he could finish speaking, Roland pulled down his hood, revealing his handsome face.

A silver coin was quietly put into his hand.

When the two hands touch, the natural aroma of flowers and plants comes from the other side. The waiter's heartbeat suddenly accelerated a little.

A noble lady?

So, are you physically strong...

But just when he heard the next sentence from the noble girl with a cold face, his heart that had just warmed up quickly cooled down: "I am Helland, Helland Alexeyev. Na. I'm looking for that idiot in Cheskeoff . . . if my information is correct, he should be on the first floor."

Cheskov. Ilyich Berjak, the sorcerer of Suze origin, the waiter knows.

That is the official staff member of the Waste Development Bureau. A powerful wizard who has broken through the limits of human beings and reached the bronze level. And I heard that he just came from the east front, and the **** aura on his hands probably hasn't dissipated.

If you can clearly know the name of the wizard Cheskeoff, and call him by his name in such a rude or even contemptuous tone, I am afraid that the identity of this black-clothed girl cannot be touched at all.

"My dear lady, should I call Mr. Cheskov Ilyich out, or should I take you to find him?"

the waiter asked tentatively.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. Please take me to him."

Perhaps realizing what the waiter was worried about, Miss Helland showed a slightly apologetic smile, and her voice softened a lot as soon as the icy expression that made her whole body was chilled.

Suddenly, as if she realized something, she handed the waiter another silver coin: "Bring me a pot of hot soup, I have to warm up... By the way, try as much as possible, if there is any left, I can give it to the door. Outside the poor workers who can't afford cotton-padded clothes. Let them also warm up."

"...Miss Herlan Alexyevna, you are so generous," the waiter paused and said sincerely, "I have seen many noble ladies in other cities who make porridge, but this one In the city, you could be the first."

"Because the food will be contaminated."

Beyond the waiter's imagination, this noble girl dressed in black, more like a priest than a wizard, did not shy away from saying what he did not dare to say because of his identity.

"But so what?"

Miss "Herland" raised her head, her silver-gray eyes looked far ahead, as if she could see the entire White Pagoda through the city.

With some unpredictable emotion, the waiter stared at her quietly with a flash of light in his eyes.

"The law of the White Tower stipulates that in areas outside the Fourth Ring Road, workers without jobs, families and contributions are workers. If you look at this city, these people cannot always work hard with hope for the future. Well... Or, do they really work hard? Anyone who looks at it can see that the city is dead, and these people are just messing around."

"Compared to workers who are paid for their labor, they are more like prisoners sentenced to hard labor."

Hearing "Herland" say that, the waiter couldn't help but nodded.

That seems to be the case.

"Then, for those who work in a heavily polluted environment for a day and get paid only a loaf of brown bread, they probably don't care if they can live for ten days or half a month."

"They have no relatives, no entertainment, and no motivation to live. This bowl of broth contaminated with magic dust will probably reduce their lifespan by three or four days. Compared to living in pain in this city , I think, they may prefer to eat meat and drink happily and then burst their stomachs and die with a smile."

The waiter's footsteps stopped abruptly.

He raised his head to look at Hurland, his eyes flickering with inexplicable light.

At that moment, he thought of many people.

"...you are such a kind and warm-hearted person."

The waiter has never hated his lack of cultural level for a moment, and thousands of thoughts can only converge into this sentence in the end.

If he had the tongues of those bards~www.wuxiaspot.com~ he would have recited aloud the kind-hearted compliment to Miss Hurland.

"If you are hungry, you can come to our room to eat when you are free."

Hurland said gently: "There is no warmheartedness, but there will be a lot of hot soup."

The waiter didn't hear what Helan meant, just thought it was the humility of the nobles, and he was habitually humbled.

Because his spontaneous sense of respect for Helland disturbed his mind, he directly helped Helland unlock the door without even calling Mr. Cheskeoff inside.

"Mr. Cheskeoff's room is here... I'm going to prepare broth for you."

Behind the waiter, Helland's eyes were full of gentle smiles.

It's a pity that he didn't hear the last sentence, which almost saved his life-

"I am indeed a warm-hearted person, but I just accidentally got hot." (To be continued.)