Siverfale
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- Why don't you focus on your own business, Ratislav, and stop bashing the heads of bad people? Then things wouldn't go missing, and Laust Brightstrider wouldn't lure people onto his territory. You condemn the local population to genocide simply because they don't look like you and speak a funny language. Shedding blood? I don't care; I'm interested in the efficiency of the campaign. Chopping the heads off forest spirits, robbing other people's homes, killing other people – who did you make a deal with? A warlord? One of your men had his arm torn off. TORN OFF. AN ARM. How many more people have to suffer? What kind of prisoners are you interested in? Have you ever seen these prisoners? This person could just be another bandit from the highway; you can't know that, - Amos nodded towards Aurelius. - And now you're going to spill a river of blood somewhere in the wild lands for who knows what.
-And I thought that people like you, sir, prefer to sit under the protection of city walls, waiting for the results, rather than travel on your own.
Many of us died immediately; our noble king tried to use Lucian's "Zenith," and you may have noticed that the night in this area recently turned into day. Nevertheless, that was not enough, - the knight paused for a few seconds, - the king died, and we, the surviving knights, fled. Along the way, two of us died during an attack by the natives, and the rest were taken prisoner.
Where do we go?
Where do we end up when we save the world?
Where do we end up when we save the world?