Dancing is not allowed on the grave

The small town of Karami is located in the southernmost part of the Augustinian Empire, right next to the border between the two countries. It takes less than an hour for a horse-drawn carriage to reach Ferdinand's territory.

Unlike the Augustinian Empire, which is located on a plain, Ferdinand has many ports, and the fishing and navigation industries are very developed. People yearn for freedom and the wind and waves at sea. The influence and control of the Holy See here is not strong.Therefore, this is the country where necromancy and black market transactions are the most rampant.

After the sun went down, a carriage drove out of the cemetery.

The carriage was traveling extremely fast in the night. If you could stop and take a closer look, you would find that the carriage was being pulled by two blue-gray ghost horses, and the simple wheels behind it were not a carriage, but a coffin.

A tall, slender man was holding a dead bellflower hanging in front of him, and was driving the horses forward.

This ghost carriage was extremely fast, and it took less than half an hour to reach Ferdinand's territory.

Lancelot and Seale got off the car in the outer suburbs, hid the ghost carriage in the hidden woods, and then walked to the nearest town.

Searle's attire was too eye-catching, so Lancelot changed him into a pure black trench coat and a top hat, with brown trousers tucked into Martin boots, which is the most popular attire among young nobles nowadays.

When the two walked into the town, it was time for dinner, and the seafood taverns along the street put up signs to attract customers, and the aroma of grilled fish and fried shrimp filled the whole street.

Searle saw a customer at a street stall open an oyster, and the delicious juice dripped down the shell. He swallowed and asked the man beside him, "Mr. Steward, are you hungry?"

He managed to eat a few potatoes yesterday, but Lancelot didn't eat a bite.

Lancelot shook his head, "I don't need to eat."

Searle was puzzled: "Why?"

Could it be that people who practice magic in this world are all bigu like the Taoist priests who practice immortality in fantasy novels?

Before Lancelot could answer, an eye-catching sign on the street first attracted Seale's attention—big eater competition, super bowl of seafood noodles, no charge for eating within the specified time limit, No.1 rewarded with [-] gold coins.

Searle: "!!"

Isn't this tailor-made for him?

"That, Mr. Butler."

"Ok?"

"Wait here for me, I'm going to eat free—I mean, I'm going to the game."

Syl disappeared into the crowd in a flash.

The potbellied boss put the hourglass upside down in the center of the stage and announced the start of the game. There was the sound of noodles sucking on the stage and cheers from the audience. Among them, Haydn was the most popular name.

Haydn seemed to be a regular victor in this competition, with a very strong figure, and the thin Searle could hardly be seen sitting next to him, only the bottomless sea bowls piled up in front of him to form a peak.

The grit slipped through the gap little by little, and by the end of the game, there was just one more bowl in front of him than Haydn.

After eating and drinking enough, Syl took a bag of gold coins and returned to Lancelot.

Lancelot took the gold coin from him and helped to carry it: "His Royal Highness Syl has a good appetite."

Syl was wearing a top hat, and she was a little proud: "I can't do anything else, I am No.1 for eating."

At this time, the black market has not yet opened. Under the kind invitation of the boss who held the competition, Searle and Lancelot walked into his tavern for a drink.

By the way, some information.

"Hmm." Seale stared at the astronomical steak on the price list, and frowned, "Boss, is your steak so expensive here?"

The tavern owner lowered his head and wiped his beer glass, and replied, "It's good if we can buy meat here."

"The animal husbandry industry is underdeveloped here. If you want to eat meat, you can only buy it from Augustine. But who doesn't know that they always want to start a war, but they are suppressed by the Holy See. How can they sell us food? I wish we all starved to death."

Similarly, in Augustine, only the nobles could afford seafood.

"However," the boss changed the subject, "magicians are welcome wherever they go—if I read correctly, your follower is a magician, right?"

Syl was stunned for a moment before realizing that the boss was talking about Lancelot.

The man was holding Searle's windbreaker in one hand at this time, and he was standing upright at the side, not far or close, so he would neither hear them speak nor leave the protection range.

Syl nodded hesitantly, and secretly slandered: Lancelot is practicing magic, but his level is not high, and he probably isn't popular enough.

But the boss obviously didn't think so, and then praised: "He looks like a very powerful magician."

Searle also looked at Lancelot along his line of sight, observing from the smooth hair to the black boots without any dirt, and finally concluded that he just looks better.

As for the aura on Mr. Steward, Searle understood it as temperament.

He nodded casually, put a gold coin on the counter, and prepared to leave.

Something was wrong with the tavern - hardly any other customers were seen.

Although it can be understood that the business is deserted, Searle is unfamiliar with the place after all, so it is better to be careful in everything.

He did have a mind, but unfortunately his body didn't cooperate, and before he could take half a step, the familiar feeling of dizziness came back violently.

Seale's feet were unsteady, and he wobbled to hold on to the edge of the bar.

Seeing that he was about to leave without touching the beer in the glass, the boss thought he had no chance to make a move. He was taking the gold coins from the bar when he looked up and saw that the guest was staggering, as if he had been drugged.

He quickly waved to the back of the bar: "Haydn."

A huge figure stepped out from behind the dark red curtain.

The big man named Haydn was wearing black and gold armor, holding a black iron epee with a cold light, and strode out.

The force that merged into his body yesterday was menacing, and strong tiredness pressed Searle's eyelids. He felt that the hand stretched out behind him pulled hard, and he was pressed against his cold chest.

Lancelot protected him from the giant sword attack and was forced into a corner against the wall.

Syl opened his eyes with force, and caught a burst of silver light in the gap, and suddenly exploded, and the blade of the giant sword that swung in front of him disappeared.

The author has something to say:

Thank you Yuyu for the grenade, the nutrient solution for the meat, Jiumi!