Stray

    Ann's admonition cannot take effect immediately, and the habits of law-abiding citizens are not easy to discard. They wouldn't take the initiative to look for the invisible shadow part of the city at all, and the daily market alone was enough to dazzle the two of them.

    Noe is only a small border town, but no matter how bad the streets are, the streets are more lively than the road sign town - at least a small town with scattered shops cannot have such a turbulent flow of people. Caravans pass by on the river pebbled road from time to time, and the air is mixed with the smell of horse manure, sweat and pungent spices. As the temperature rises, merchants are reluctant to sell cooked food, and the aroma of hot fat is far less intense than the eccentric sweetness of rotting fruit. Oliver picked a good place. The smell of bread from the bakery covered the overly strong taste of the market. The shadow cast by the shade cloth separated the poisonous sunlight and cut them out from the overly noisy market. .

    Nimo weighs the purse. He only knew that a place like the Dawning Tavern was given by Oliver. Now he's completely out of ideas - the sun has scorched the air, and even if Nemo is no longer afraid of the heat, it doesn't mean he's willing to throw himself under the scorching sun.

    He silently loosened the straps of the backpack and tugged the bag even further. Although unlikely, he was a little afraid that Bagelmore would silently suffocate inside.

    As a boring senior adult, Oliver is obviously not motivated to explore. He pasted his whole body into the shadows, so that he could stay away from that patch of sunlight. The townspeople on the street were well prepared for this. Turbans and hats with wild bird feathers were everywhere, and the two young men with their heads bared were even conspicuous.

    The market is by the river, and the smell of bread is mixed with a little watery smell. Nemo circled behind the row of shops—the side of the river was also full of small shops, and the narrow walkway was shaded by the buildings, and it even gave off a chill.

    He saw the bistro wrapped in vines at a glance. Different from the formal and atmospheric Dawning, its small broken signboard gave people an inexplicable sense of security - of course, it may also be because the owner is in the store There was a huge mermaid ice sculpture on the mouth, and 80% of it was also attached with a non-melting spell. The cold air it radiated was refreshing and comfortable.

    Two people rushed into the store as if they were fleeing.

    Maybe there were not many people in the store because it was just after lunch. Nemo picked the table in the far corner of the room, then tucked himself and his backpack into the corner, posing as if he was going to stay here for an afternoon. Oliver shook his head and sat across from him.

    The interior of the tavern is not a new world, and it is as dilapidated as the small sign outside. The only special thing is that its entire wall is covered with documents and portraits. It's all about —

    "Tin Soldier." Nemo confirmed the life and death of the parrot in his backpack, then placed it on the floor together with the bag. "Looks like the boss is a big fan of the Tin Soldiers."

    "Have a vision, lad." The bearded man approached with two huge wooden wine glasses and placed them heavily in front of them. There was a faint aroma of wine in the wooden cup, and the ice cubes collided with a pleasant clear sound. "Young people these days don't know much about tin soldiers, alas. You're welcome, it's my request."

    But he didn't seem to want to talk more, and the wooden prosthesis of his right leg moved back to the back of the bar with a slam, and he took a nap in the open.

    "Tin Soldiers?" Oliver whispered.

    "The most famous mercenary group twenty years ago." Nemo was instantly refreshed, "There are still people writing books about their adventures - the last brave man was born in the tin soldier mercenary regiment, unfortunately it disbanded after the last expedition."

    "Why?"

    "Because most of the team members died in that expedition." Library staff is a rather boring profession, and books about the Tin Soldiers mercenary group do not know how many boring afternoons he has saved. . Nemo himself is even a half-advocate. "Unfortunately—there's even a dragon among their members! Even the hero himself didn't survive."

    "Wait, isn't that a hero?"

    "The devil cannot be defeated by anyone alone, and every crusade is fought by the entire army." Nemo shook the glass, "The one who gave the devil the fatal blow will get the title of the hero. The last brave I remember was the deputy commander of the Tin Soldiers, Abbas Alastair, a great sorcerer, but unfortunately he didn't get out of the abyss alive - it is said that there were only two survivors left in the last expedition, and the testimony they provided ."

    Oliver wrapped his hands around the glass, looking like he didn't mean to drink. "In other words, our hero is only the deputy leader? Where's their leader—"

    "Well, did you see that weird guy in the mask?" Nemo pointed at a portrait attached to the edge of the wall excitedly. "Lopez, the most recognized swordsman on the continent at that time."

    Oliver stretched his neck and glanced at the yellowed parchment—the mask was so odd that he quickly lost interest in this one. "The taste is...special."

    "He's quite a controversial figure." Nemo drank half a glass in one breath, smacked his lips, and decided that this thing was at most a sweet drink with alcohol flavor. But it is quite refreshing and thirst-quenching. "He rose too fast and had no background. There are views that he reached that position through emotional intelligence and deception - especially after the expedition, he lost his right arm in ordinary monster hunting. At that time, many people believed that he did not Nothing can be done with the team. After that, there is not much news of him."

    "Do you like hero stories?" Oliver's eyes slid from the weird mask to the beautiful elf portrait attached to the side, "It's amazing, there are still elves in their team."

    "Yes, their archers," Nemo said. "There were also dwarves and necromancers, I don't know if it was Lopez's luck or something—the Tin Soldiers consisted of most of them. A somewhat famous race. Some people even suspect that there are high-level demons mixed in, but to be honest, I don't think it's strange if there are." Look at their team, there are three pure humans, two of which are inexperienced newbies. The only romantic spark he had left was completely gone before it could be ignited.

    "So you just rushed out then?" Oliver suddenly took a sip of wine, "Because you yearn for the 'tin soldier'?"

    "What?" Nemo was completely unresponsive.

    "When testing," Oliver said softly.

    This was the first time they talked about it after the test, and Nemo sat upright unconsciously.

    "I don't know if I will do anything." Oliver took another sip of the transparent wine, "That parrot clearly guarantees you will survive—if you do nothing ."

    He raised his bright emerald green eyes, and there was no expression on his face.

    "Uh...I...don't think too much?" Nemo scratched his head a little embarrassedly, "Besides, can you watch me and Ann die...wait for your expression? What do you mean? I thought we were friends!"

    "I don't know." Oliver shook his head. "To be honest, I would definitely hesitate...even for a second. How did you do that?"

    Nemo is not an extrovert. He's not too happy to go to dance parties full of strangers, or to naturally laugh out loud with people he just met - after the financial pressure of pulling his siblings at the orphanage, he chose to work in the library, in large part because of this . On the other hand, Oliver is the exact opposite. He can directly ask things that are difficult for ordinary people to talk about - such as now.

    Nimo drank the wine upside down, and found in despair that he was still not drunk at all, and he did not increase the courage to get drunk.

    "...by my conscience, which I have built up over the years." He concluded, "I can't stand there and watch you two die anyway - of course, if I didn't think of it at the time, I might just...cough! Didn't we survive, don't worry about it. Besides, if you hadn't gone with me at the time, I would have been smashed by a tree root...to death..."

    Oliver stood up, his face came closer, and his expression was very serious.

    "Not the same," he said, warm breath on Nemo's face. "I take a step slowly every time, and every time I need someone to rush ahead of me."

    Nimo began to regret that he had chosen a position against the wall, he didn't even have much room to retreat. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to reach out and push Oliver away to make room for some fresh air. As a result, just as he was about to stretch out his hand, he found the reddish spread on the opponent's neck—

    Nemo pulled Oliver's glass over in disbelief and sniffed it, making sure he was drinking the same drink as himself. So he looked at each other in even more shock - Oliver's reaction seemed to be drunk no matter what, but this degree of alcohol is usually not enough for a little girl to get drunk.

    "God, I'm a selfish bastard." Oliver continued sadly, throwing back his chair a little dejected. Now Nemo confirmed his guess. "If I had been more proactive, would more people have survived? Tell me, don't lie to me, okay?"

    The survivor's guilt, Nemo instantly made a judgment and sighed secretly in his heart. Ann's conclusion is absolutely right that this man's idealism needs to be fixed—or that he's a complete perfectionist at all, but directed at himself. This situation is even more difficult.

    He thought about it, and suddenly realized that something was slightly wrong.

    He himself never seemed to be bothered by such thoughts, not for a second. He did feel joy for the survivors, but not for those who died. Death gave him a shock, and he did regret the deaths of some people. But thinking of the group of victims he had never met before, he seemed to…

    Don't care.

    Nimo's hand on the handle of the wine glass trembled slightly.

    "Don't think about it, it's human nature." He said dryly to Oliver, "It's human instinct to subconsciously consider your own safety."

    But he couldn't really answer Oliver's other question, because he really didn't know how he did it.

    And he didn't really want to know the answer to that question.

    "Or else." Oliver said drunkenly, "I'll be with you—I'll do the task with you, to figure out what the parrot is. You need the help of your comrades, I need to figure out..."

    His voice dropped.

    "I need answers..."

    "Cheer up, didn't we agree?" Nemo decided to put the annoying group of thoughts behind him. "And we're friends, right?"

    "No, just...like a knight," Oliver hiccupped, blushing even more. "Anyway, it's... a life-saving grace..."

    "Okay, don't drink it yet." Nemo grabbed the glass and drank the remaining small half. He stretched out his fingers and tapped Oliver's left shoulder sloppily three times. "Are you satisfied, Mr. Knight?"

    "You...haven't spoken the proverb..."

    "Pay me back." Nemo thought for a few seconds before speaking.

    Oliver slumped on the table, buried his face in his arms, and laughed sullenly. "Fuck you," he said vaguely.

    A very simple canonization ceremony, none of them took it seriously at that time. Nemo put the glass neatly on the table while Oliver fell into a deep sleep. They didn't know how much trouble this joke would cause them in the future.

    The warm wind on a summer afternoon blew into the tavern, rolling up the portraits of the Tin Soldiers. The portrait of Flint Lopez was blown off the wall, and Nemo glanced at the dozing bearded man and carefully taped it back. After smoothing out the folds in the corners, he stared at the odd mask on Lopez's face, and the wonderful emotion resurfaced in his heart.

    This time he deftly ignored it.

    (m..=)