Arcane splendor begins with the throne

Chapter 201 Hope
Ge Erbao, who was sitting on the straw pile, glanced out from time to time, as if there was a man-eating monster outside, staring at him viciously.

He is the priest of Gal, and he must not be afraid of it. He is constantly alerting himself.

Unfortunately, those words didn't drive away the fear, which became as much a part of his life as moldy bread, like the swollen, festering wound on his wrist.

He thought that he had tasted the taste of fear a long time ago, and he was not afraid at all, but this confidence had been completely overturned the moment he met the executioner.

The Vampire Duke is the executioner of the city of Abrera, Gerber reminded himself all the time.

"If you don't agree, your people will spend the night with you in the dungeon one by one, and then send them on the road until they all die."

The old voice of the black-robed wizard echoed in his mind, like the death knell mourning the death of his tribe.

He knew the Hedwin wizard who called himself the 'Skeleton Mage'.

He had also heard that the evil necromancer was fond of carrying out sad experiments on the human body, the 'fruits' of which were common in the sewers of the city of Abrera.

There is no doubt that this is an evil existence like most wizards.

Five days have passed, he looked at the ceiling of the dungeon and muttered to himself.

The reason he remembered it so clearly was because people died every day.

Every morning, as the wicked wizard had said, the jailer came here after breakfast, and left beside him any of his tribe chosen at random, and took away those who had spent the night with him.

Every day, Galbow thought sadly.

When an old man who always likes to laugh and laugh is brought here, tell him.

His fellow prisoners were too frightened to look up at the jailer who looked like a scarecrow.

Maybe they thought he wouldn't notice them if they didn't pay attention to him, but it didn't work at all, the Scarecrow picked whoever he liked, there was nowhere to hide, no tricks to play, and no way to escape.

Through the narration of this strange old man, he also learned many things that happened in recent days.

The Vampire Duke of Abrera City not only imprisoned all the surviving elves, dwarves, dwarves, and halflings in the dungeon, but even the non-human races in the surrounding villages and towns were imprisoned here as if they were escorting prisoners.

"Killing one is killing, killing two is killing, killing a hundred is still killing, the nature is the same." The old man commented in this way.

They interrogate these prisoners every day and teach them on the spot to let them know the fate of lying, rebellion and rebellion.

The most important thing is that the evil black-robed wizard has the ability to detect lies, and any lies will be self-defeating in front of his gloomy skull.

The questions of the human interrogators were almost identical.

Where are your gold, silver and jewels hidden?How much food do you have at home?Where are the elves' ranger troops hiding?Who brought food to the elves' army?Have harbored them?Have you added manpower to them?Funded them?
Through countless enquiries, the Vampire Duke obtained countless wealth and food.

At the same time, many unexpected gains have been obtained: the halfling Bach Ans once provided shelter and food for the elf ranger, the dwarf blacksmith Gwa Steen made arrows for the elves, and even the human mayor of a small town also worked with the elves. Through the leather trade...

"Whoever dares to provide them with food and shelter will be regarded as an accomplice and suffer the same punishment." This is what Abrera's announcer preached to everyone.

It is said that during countless cross-examinations, they also accidentally learned of the traces of the 'mad hunter' Carlot. As a result, none of the hundreds of heavily armed cavalrymen they dispatched survived.

It was the best news he had heard so far.

Geerbao vividly remembered that the old man, who had lived for more than 300 years, had white beard and white hair, and his thin body was like a moldy mole.

When he was taken away, he was also full of smiles, as if he was experiencing a common prank.

This strengthened his belief and determination to pray to Gal.

The gods are merciful, he often recites silently in his heart.

At this moment, his limbs are as thin as a reed stalk, his stomach is empty, and the stomach pain makes it difficult for him to sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes, he will think of the scene that happened this morning.

A woman was driven into the dungeon by the scarecrow jailer holding her five-year-old boy in her arms. The little boy kept crying for his father.

The jailer yelled at him viciously, but he would not stop.

The little boy was strangled by the jailer and fell on the cold wall, but the dark and cold dungeon did not restore silence. The child's mother started screaming, and the jailer killed her as well.

Geerbao lay there weakly, watching them die, unable to help him in any way, just as helpless as he was watching the batches of his clansmen being taken away from him.

It is said that there are no brave men in the dungeon, and it is true, because there are only cowards and starving people here. After all, most of them are women, children, and children.

And he is not, he is the priest of Gal, and he must pray for Gal's help to save his people.

Because these human soldiers took everything from them, their loved ones, their friends, their homes, their hope and their courage.

At least he didn't take away his faith, Gelberg resolutely believed that the dwarf god Gal would protect him.

So, he exhausted all his strength, got up again, knelt down on the ground again, and continued his pious prayer:
"Great my lord Garl Flashgold!"

"You are the vigilant protector, the symbol of shining wisdom, the leader of the golden hills, and the protector of the dwarf race!"

"Your humble follower, Garbold Morningen, begs for your response!... I pray that you will bestow divine spells to help my people!... My people are suffering!... Many people have fallen in the massacre Already!..."

……

In a trance, he saw a cloud of sparkling gold dust hovering in the darkness. The shimmer of the gold dust turned into countless golden reflections, flickering endlessly.

Then, the light of tiny golden flakes turned into a vortex, pulling him deeply into it.

Gerber's eyes suddenly lit up, and he saw a bustling market.

It was full of stalls, carriages, cows and flies, and a criminal was tied to a pillar of a high platform. The onlookers kept throwing mud and excrement at him, but the criminal showed amazing calmness.
He recognized the criminal when he saw the two black horns curving back on his head.

The criminal was the satyr Mario, he thought in disbelief.

He vaguely remembered that Brian had been looking for the missing poet, but he could never find any trace of his departure.

Now, he was actually tied to the execution platform.

Looking at the other party's calm expression, he suddenly had a feeling that if Mario wanted to, he wouldn't be caught so easily, and he could even run away at any time.

But in fact, he was firmly tied to the stone pillar and was about to accept the judgment of fate.

"Sin, greed and stupidity occupy your soul and torment your body like lice raised by a beggar..."

In the gradually blurred picture, he heard the cry of the satyr Mario losing his mind.

"Your sins are stubborn, your remorse is weak, you charge dearly for your confessions, you smile through your tears and happily turn back to the muddy road, and the loathsome temptation is like the devil's lead. The thread that governs all your activities, hell is empty, and the devil is in the world..."

A bald-headed guard with rotten teeth came over and punched Mario in the stomach. He gasped in pain and stared down at his waistband.

"Go on!"

The guard's mouth full of rotten teeth opened and closed in front of Mario, "Is your tongue tied up? Do you want me to fix it for you!"

He switched his fist again, hitting the same spot, and Mario gasped for breath and wanted to vomit, but nothing came out.

"every day."

The half-goat raised his head with difficulty, and squeezed out his voice, "You are all gradually descending into hell, passing through the stinking darkness, you are like a prodigal son who has lost all his money, kissing and sucking, and a prostitute who has lost all his charm has suffered so much. Devastating..."

In the blurry picture, Galbao saw that the noose blocked all Mario's words, his feet left the ground, and the hemp rope sank deeply into the soft flesh under his chin.

Ascending, he spasmed, kicked, and struggled incessantly.

Then, to the cheers of the crowd, his body rose and rose and rose again...

"He's gone crazy."

Gerbaugh closed his eyes, muttered to himself, and made a pertinent evaluation based on his understanding of him, "But... many artists are lunatics."

When he opened his sad eyes, he returned to the familiar dungeon again.

Everything is so familiar.

The only difference is that he felt that his whole body was full of divine power, his body stiffness, weakness and pain disappeared without a trace, and his exhausted spirit returned to a stable and satisfied state.

He could open the dungeon door with ease if he wanted to, or he could kill a jailer as skinny as a scarecrow in an instant with a burst of rainbow-hued magical energy from the palm of his hand.

However, he did not choose to do so.

Because the word "waiting" echoed in his heart as if passing through distant time and space and endless kingdoms.

At the same time, a fleeting purple dragon banner appeared in his mind.

At this moment, he understood everything.

…………

a nightmare.

But if it was a dream, thought Broto the dwarf, why was the pain so severe?

He heard the rain was still dripping, and the whole world was wet.

The dwarf's cloak was as heavy as mail, and his skin was red and swollen beneath the layers of damp wool and rusted mail.

Broto suspects that everything is just a fever dream.

Fever, sickness...

It reminded him of his deceased grandmother. He vaguely remembered that his grandmother was a pharmacist, and the medicine she made was unparalleled.

Unfortunately, she believes that the root of most diseases is laziness.

And the best cure for laziness was the pickaxe, and for him and his brothers and sisters, she regarded it as a means of preventing disease, and liked to beat them up when she had nothing to do.

She is a fierce, ugly, and vicious old woman, Broto thought with lingering fear.

It's a pity that she died in a massacre 50 years ago, and he sighed sadly again.

Thinking of the massacre, he couldn't help recalling that night shrouded in bloody flames.

After receiving Brian's instructions, he took himself and Gerber's people and left the city of Abrera overnight, and came to a damp, dark and quiet place.

Who would have thought that it didn't take long for the port of Abrera City to ignite a raging fire, and the fire reflected the sky red.

Varda, you fool whose head was kicked by a donkey!Broto couldn't help cursing.

He was still a child, a child who aspired to become a paladin of Moradin, and he rushed to the city of Abrera without hesitation for his own beliefs.

Varda's appearance before death appeared uncontrollably in Broto's mind.

He was bleeding like a fountain, and the blood spurted from the black iron throat, soaking his hands. He was once a short, strong, warm, living dwarf boy, but the blood was as cold as ice in his arms. .

He recalled everything that happened that night: the sky was covered with flames, the ground was covered with blood, the bitter cold wind whizzed by, and a ferocious ogre zombie blocked their way...

It made him shudder to remember the scene of the ogre zombie's teeth tearing at the flesh and blood of his thigh.

Fortunately, the beast died.

Luckily, Broto thought, the ogre zombie was killed by a sudden burst of blinding white light from Vardar's hammer.

Before the poor child died, he finally got his wish and became a paladin of Moradin.

He withdrew his sad thoughts, came back to his senses, and took a deep breath.

The air was cold and dreary, and smelled of earth, maggots, and mold.

There is no doubt that this is a cave, with cold rocks above the head, tree roots emerging from the rock walls, and the only light source coming from a tallow candle.

Broto got up from a door panel, the sheepskin covering his body slipped off, and he asked, "Is anyone there?"

"Broto, you're finally awake." There were many dark caves behind the candles, and an old dwarf with a gray beard in ragged clothes came out.

"Hey! Old man, where is this?" Broto looked at the strange old dwarf.

"Cave." The old dwarf had a pair of brown leather boots on his feet, a dilapidated old robe trimmed with silver and gold threads, and a striking 'Warhammer and Chopping Block' emblem, "The Black Rose Army Hunting us stragglers around, we'll just run back into the cave like kobolds."

"I'm not a fish or a kobold, I'm a dwarf from Thrane." Brotto said angrily.

"Whatever you say." The old dwarf stroked his long and messy gray beard, "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry." Broto was in no mood to eat, "Where are my weapons? And where are my clansmen?"

As a mountain dwarf, he could tell that these caves were obviously dug by hand, but the ground was full of rocks and mud, dirty and messy.

This made him realize that the old dwarf priest in front of him, who didn't know which rock crevice he got out of, might have robbed the kobold's home.

There are caves and cracks everywhere, but which one leads to the outside, which one goes deeper, which one is a dead end, or hides evil underground monsters, he has no idea at all.

"It can be seen that you are recovering well." The old dwarf didn't care about Broto grinning at him like a little wild cat, reached out and touched his forehead, nodded in satisfaction, and said:
"That night, I saw you holding a dead body lying in a pit outside Abrera City. You passed out and your thigh was bitten by an undead creature. The gods are merciful and let you meet me."

"Thank you!" Broto said.

The old dwarf stroked his messy gray beard, smiled and pointed him a way to the outside world.

Broto picked up his hammer and axe, and ran out of the cave without looking back.

It rained heavily, and soon drenched him all over.

Feeling the chill spreading all over his body, Broto hurriedly walked towards the stone house not far away.

It can be seen that this place should be the ruins of a mine somewhere in the Amastaxia Kingdom. From the old dwarf's mouth, it is known that the Tasha army is hunting down non-human races all over the kingdom.

Therefore, they had to hide in this barren place like kobolds.

But Broto knew that if things went on like this, there was no solution at all. He had to find a way to contact the elves in the Dusk Forest, as well as Brian.

He opened the door directly and entered the spacious stone house.

The room was warm because of the waste heat of the abandoned fireplace under the action of dry wood.

However, there was only one person inside, and it was a dwarf that Broto hated very much.

At this moment, his anger was like a log added to the fireplace, and the flames rushed upward.

"Why the hell are you here!?"

He pointed to a red-bearded dwarf sitting on a chair with a gloomy expression, and growled angrily: "I thought you, a bastard raised by a kobold, would have died in the sewer of Abrera City long ago."

"Broto Firecast, you can't calm down." The red bearded dwarf looked embarrassed and said patiently, "I came here to..."

"Because of your mother! I don't welcome you here, so get out of here!" Before the other party finished speaking, Broto roared again.

He tried his best to persuade the members of the Council of Elders not to get involved in this kind of struggle and leave here as soon as possible.

Who would have thought that his good intentions would be met with scolding, and even Thrane's elders began to criticize him.

Claim: If he does not join Abrera's independence movement, he will be restricted from mining in all of his mines in the Thunder Rift Mountains.

"Many of our compatriots are imprisoned in the dungeons of Abrera." The red-bearded dwarf glared at Broto, suppressing his anger, "So, we must find a way to save them. I need your help."

"Father? Fuck you, you son of a bitch!"

Broto sneered: "You fucking worry about your fellow countrymen? You worry about your own property."

"Broto! Don't go too far, I'm suffering..." The red-bearded dwarf stood up angrily.

"Subject to your mother, you stinky biscuit, coward, white-eyed wolf!"

"You're a..."

"You're a kobold, a mean little bastard, a coward full of lice, a flat-haired bastard!"

"I……"

"Call your mother, you stupid, stupid beast, please be quiet! Then get out!"

"It's enough to scold you, but we can't ignore the trapped compatriots in the city of Abrera." The red-bearded dwarf suppressed the anger in his heart and deliberately slowed down his tone, "Now, the port of Abrera has been captured by the Tasha people. Blockade, it is almost impossible for us to go to Thrane to carry reinforcements."

"That's your business, I don't care."

Broto snorted, "I have severed ties with you a long time ago. I just need to take my people and find a way to get out of here. I don't care about your life or death."

It's not that he doesn't want to save his compatriots, but that he is really powerless.

Because there are too many human defenders in the city of Abrera, even if they unite with the elves in the Dusk Forest, it is impossible to break through.

Therefore, he didn't want to risk all the lives of his few remaining clansmen.

"Broto, don't go too far!"

The red-bearded dwarf finally erupted. He punched the table that was about to fall apart, and said loudly, "I'm trying to discuss something with you, can't you calm down?!"

"I just can't calm down, what's wrong?" Broto straightened his back and said without showing any weakness: "To be honest, I really want to kill you, peel your belly open, and see if there is a black heart inside. !"

"Just try it, don't fucking think that I'm really afraid of you!"

"Come on! Whoever f*ck backs down will be raised by a kobold!"

Two grumpy bearded dwarves were arguing, wrestling and tearing each other in a dimly lit room.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and the two dwarves who rolled together were stunned at the same time, and looked up.

Brann stepped in, rain dripping down his cloak and hair, followed by a group of elf rangers in full armor.

Outside the door, lightning tore through the night sky, and the black rain coldly hit the sandstone cliffs in the ruined mining area.

…………

(End of this chapter)