As the fire burned, the charcoal occasionally crackled, and the light dimmed a little. Light and shadow intertwined in the passage of the tomb. The little Roman sat alone by the fire, her face red from the light. For some time, she had been watching the sparks rise to the top of the cave with great interest. The sparkling eyeballs moved from bottom to top, and then from top to bottom, very lifelike.
It had been an hour since the tomb collapsed, and the wizards had spent at least half an hour to open up a ventilation window before they could light the fire. The merchant lady used an iron rod to skewer the graveyard moss. God knows why she carried it with her, but Brando knew that she always had a full set of field supplies in her leather bag. The flames roasted the moss until it sizzled. The moss was the base material for the witch's prophecy potion (+ 2 Wisdom, lasts for 10 minutes) in The Amber Sword. No matter how you looked at it, it looked more like gray moss, but the Roman stubbornly believed that it was a mushroom.
If the merchant lady said it was a mushroom, then it was a mushroom.
The Shire was too embarrassed to tell the future lord's wife that she had burned two gold coins, so he could only pretend that he did not see it. Otherwise, he would be invited to eat graveyard moss. Mister Adept did not think that his physique and poison resistance were better than his Lord's, so he decisively declined the invitation.
The Shire was just as confused as everyone else. His lord had announced his relationship with the Roman lady long ago, but the two did not look like a couple. This was quite puzzling. In Wohnde, it was normal for nobles to have a wife at the age of fifteen. Someone at Brando's age who was still single was not rare, but almost non-existent.
The Shire would occasionally secretly wonder if his lord had any problems in that area. In fact, as a knowledgeable Highland wizard, he happened to know some ancient herbal recipes. But even if he was beaten to death, he would not dare to ask this question in front of Brendel. He had a smart intuition that if he said that, he would definitely be locked up in a small dark room.
Therefore, all this time, no matter if it was him or his subordinates, they all addressed the Roman lady as their lord's fiancée. However, this had been going on for more than a year. Brando might not have noticed it, but to outsiders, it was a little strange. Charles thought about it and decided to find an opportunity to tactfully mention it to his Lord. Otherwise, it would not be good if it caused any trouble.
The smell of burnt graveyard moss smelled a little like roasted shoes. Such a subtle smell drifted in the cave. What was commendable was that the others acted as if nothing had happened and pretended not to smell it. The Shire held a blueprint that his apprentice had just finished and stared at the collapsed part of the tomb with a serious expression on his face. The excavation work was not going well. The magic power was not as strong as they had imagined. Moreover, the key issue was not to open up a path, but to prevent the sand and stones from rolling down.
The Shire did not have the ability to use magic to support a fifty-meter long section of the mountain. Fortunately, the people outside had already contacted Metisha. Once the Silver Fairy Princess and the female vampire arrived, it was only a matter of time before they could open up the path.
However, at this moment, the Roman lady suddenly felt the ground under the tomb tremble slightly.
She raised her head and looked at the others curiously, but it seemed that no one had noticed it except for her. The Shire saw the merchant lady raise her head and could not help but shiver. He braced himself and asked, "Is something wrong, Miss Roman?"
The Roman tilted her head and looked at him. She paused for a moment and her bright eyes seemed to ask, "Did you hear something?" However, The Shire did not have the ability to read minds, so he could not figure out what the merchant lady was up to. He looked at the Roman in confusion. The merchant lady blinked her eyes and asked, "Is Brando alright?"
"My lord is still down there. Don't worry, he is safe. Nothing will happen to him." The Shire replied respectfully. He was afraid that the merchant lady would treat him to graveyard moss if she was unhappy or happy. But Martha was above. It seemed that the Roman treasured the 'mushrooms' she roasted and did not intend to share the moss. She was determined to give it all to Brando, so she said, "Then it's nothing. Thank you."
The Shire wiped the cold sweat off his forehead and prayed for his lord. He prayed that the Martha above would bless his great lord's ability to resist the poison. Otherwise, he would not have an easy time tonight. The Shire could not help but think that if the Roman kindly treated Brando to the graveyard moss, would his lord choose to eat it? Or would he choose to eat it?
Thinking of this, he could not help but laugh to the point that he hurt his internal organs.
But what The Shire did not know was that after the merchant lady finished talking to him, she turned her head back and seemed to be focusing on counting the sparks. But the Roman's hands were placed properly on her leather bag. In reality, she was looking at the other side of the bonfire at the girl sitting opposite her.
The girl was only one or two years older than her, but her expression was very gentle. She looked at the Roman as if she was looking at her own child. She saw the Roman seriously handing over a skewer of graveyard moss and could not help but smile bitterly. "Sorry, little girl, I don't like to eat this kind of thing."
"They don't seem to be able to see you." Romaine looked at The Shire and asked. She was not an idiot. On the contrary, she was quite intelligent. Brando understood this after that night in the refugee camp. But in the eyes of outsiders, this merchant lady was just a strange person who was easy to get along with.
This was a secret shared by both her and Brando. Freya knew a little, and Amandina more or less guessed something.
The girl nodded: "Because only you can see me. Even the inheritor of the person below can't see me."
"Are you talking about Brando?" The Roman asked.
"That young man is called Brando, right? Thank you for telling me his name."
"If you want to harm him, I won't talk to you anymore." The Roman declared sternly.
The girl did not know whether to laugh or cry.
"No, I'm just thanking him. I always want to hear about the outside world. Besides, he brought you here, so I'll only be thanking him. "
"Then why am I the only one who can see you?" The merchant lady asked curiously.
"Because you and I have the same blood." The girl replied. She tilted her head and looked at the Roman carefully. But it was obvious that she liked this little girl from Bucce. Her eyes revealed a satisfied expression. The Roman thought for a while and raised her small eyebrows: "I have the same blood as you? Are you saying that you're my mother? "
The girl smiled bitterly again.
"Of course not." She said: "If you want to say it, I should be your grandmother's grandmother's grandmother …" She suddenly stopped and realized that she had been affected by the girl. Even the way she spoke had become a mess. She couldn't help but shake her head: "Alright, I won't joke around. Do you know what kind of power you have? I think you should have grasped some of it, right? "
"I know," The Roman nodded: "A dwarf told me that I'm a warlock because I was born with magic."
"Oh?"
The girl looked at the Roman curiously: "You're not a warlock. You're a witch, and a natural one at that. You have the blood of the Witch of Fate flowing in your veins, and your constellation is the Daughter of the Harp. But after today, it won't be like that. From today onwards, your constellation will be the Witch King — "
"The Roman didn't quite understand, but the dwarf clearly said that I'm a warlock." The merchant girl thought for a while: "And I think that warlock sounds more powerful."
"… …"
The first Witch King before the Golden Era, the creator of the thirteen witch bloodlines, the spouse of the Dark Dragon Odin — she rarely met a worthy opponent in her lifetime, and she didn't think that there was anyone who could defeat her. But until today, the Queen of Ice had to admit that there were some people in this world that she couldn't defeat. What did he mean by 'and I think that warlock sounds more powerful'? If it was one of her thirteen subordinates who dared to say that to her, she might have cast a spell and sent that person into the ice labyrinth to suffer for eternity.
However, her temper was much better now. Besides, she might not be able to do anything to her descendant. Most importantly, there was not enough time. She was overjoyed to be able to meet a true successor before her power was about to be exhausted.
The first Witch King had no choice but to coax: "Don't worry. Even if you accept my legacy, you will still retain your warlock abilities." When the girl said this, she wanted to bang her head against the wall. It was clearly the innate ability of the Witch of Fate, but she had to say that it was the power of a warlock. Moreover, she couldn't refute it. After all, warlocks were the archenemies of the witches. What was she saying!? If it wasn't for her image, the legendary Witch King would have burst into tears.
She was the one who personally gave the right to become the Witch King. This was something that many people couldn't even dream of. But she had to coax and lie to this little girl. This was a complete disgrace.
The Roman thought about it carefully.
As a merchant, she had to be careful with her spending. But in the end, probably because she felt that it was a win-win situation, she nodded cautiously.
"Good child," The Witch King said weakly. Even the novelty of seeing her descendant after countless years had disappeared. She stretched out her hand and tapped the Roman's forehead. The merchant girl instantly felt countless knowledge surging into her mind.
"I'm almost out of power, so I can't help you much. But the knowledge I give you will be of great help to you one day." The girl sighed. "Maybe it's fate. You happen to be a witch of fate. This knowledge will gradually come into play as you grow. But the key is that you have to remember that the Witch King's mark I gave you is the only mark to open the treasure of the Witch Kingdom. One day, you will unify the thirteen bloodlines. This mark will play a huge role. Do you understand?"
Roman felt dizzy. She held her head and nodded, not fully understanding.
The girl couldn't help but sigh when she saw her like this. She didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse for her only successor to be like this. But whether it was right or wrong, the first Witch King didn't want to stay here for a moment longer. She was afraid that the little girl would come up with another idea and choke her half to death. She felt that her limited dignity couldn't withstand such a torment.
She retracted her finger and paused for a moment. Then, she disappeared into the tomb.
Roman was left looking left and right, unable to figure out what was going on for a moment.
… … (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to come to qidian.com to vote for me. Your support is my biggest motivation.)
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
