Posts from Abasdarhon's Castle Auto-translated

- Don't worry, I've calmed down a bit now, thank you for your concern. Please help in any way you can.

- I am strong, agile, and have good stamina. My eyesight is good, and my willpower is slightly weaker. I'm not particularly intelligent. I'm wearing the legion uniform. I have a rifle, ammunition for it, a one-handed sword, two cookies, a notebook, a pencil, 200 axots, and I live in the Deadheads camp. I'm just an ordinary rifleman; I don't have any secret information or connections.

When the tattooed legionnaire saw Dargin leading Maylin into the city, he turned to him.
- Where are you going?

—I understand. —Felian, too, though without much interest, watched the brawl. —I'd like to order something to drink and eat.

Mug of beer - 1 axot
Mug of ale - 2 axots
Glass of fortified wine - 1 axot
Mug of mead - 2 axots

Roast pork - 1 axot
Wheat porridge with pork - 1 axot
Buckwheat porridge with beef - 2 axots
Fried chicken with potatoes - 1 axot
Fried chicken with pasta - 1 axot

- Anything for you, sweetheart, - the girl winked at the fairy and presented a modest menu.

- What's your name? - asked the tattooed man in a calm voice.

- Holy Mary, Theresa, Anna, Elizabeth... - the knight muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
He was a little confused, not knowing where to put his find, and eventually placed it between the pages of the holy scripture so it wouldn't get crumpled.
"I'll find the owner and return what was lost. If I leave it here or throw it in the trash, some children might find it - that wouldn't be good."
As he walked away from the place, replaying everything in his mind, he didn't pay attention to where he was going and randomly headed towards the academy.

- That's exactly what I'm going to do.
After seeing the girl off, Thiolas heads to the arena.

Do I have to take responsibility for him, or just try to guide his thoughts?

Some woman was giving them instructions.

Hanzo nodded.

I'm going after her.

—Thank you. —Felian glanced at the meager contents of the menu. However, he had long since gotten used to such food. —Chicken with potatoes and a mug of beer, please.
"Are they still fighting? Tough guys."

- Tarleon, - replied the elf. - And this is my assistant, - he pointed to the demon.

The guard began to examine the passport.
- It's kind of strange. Hey Ermina, come here.

A dark elf, with whom the legionnaire with the rifle had spoken earlier, approached them.


- Take a look at the passport.
The elf carefully examined the document.
- Wow! He's a hundred years old. I've only seen such things in museums. William Rott, a slave-demon, citizen of Axoth, how lovely.
- So, he's real?
- Yep.
- Okay, let's do this. The elf will play a game with us, and we'll let you pass.
- Just don't play Dargin's game, - said the elf with a smile.
- I'll play with you later... - replied the legionnaire with the rifle with a sly smile.
- Play with someone in the Rainbow, you'll fit in there, - she said and walked away from the legionnaires.
- Will you play the game, elf? - asked the tattooed Tarleon.

- What are you talking about, man! We don't do that kind of thing! Those are bandits! Alright, we'll give you a hundred...