Posts from ⚔️Serberia Auto-translated

- Yes... And this... Uh... - Veserod scratched his head. - You have a great shop here! So many wonderful goods!
He glanced at the mechanical abominations, which, by their very appearance, caused discomfort. The most striking, of course, were the watches - the thought that a person would voluntarily hang this uncomfortable, unnatural thing on his body, like a parasite or the shackles of a prisoner, when he can perfectly determine the time by the position of the sun, the wind, and the temperature of the air, the cries of animals, and by observing insects, made him feel nauseous. However, he did not show any of this outwardly, but simply nodded, assessing the assortment.
- The person who runs the trade in this city deserves respect, - Veserod said, slightly bending the truth and changing the general meaning of what was said, but nevertheless, he spoke honestly. - But I have heard different rumors... That people have been... robbed for decades. Defrauded. And all sorts of things... To be honest, we have things to do here, and we are all a bit down because of it... Can you give me some advice? Or have you heard anything, or have you experienced it yourself? How did it happen that scoundrels have been robbing people for years? Even if they had pitchforks, people could bring order if they knew which door to break down.

- Very good, I think Anders will be glad to hear such warm words. And he stayed...

- Interesting, you say? Well, okay, why not. - Renold shrugged.

Goodbye, Ren, we'll miss you.

You're wrong. He'll kill everyone in this arena too. And then we'll say the arena is unsafe and get paid for it.

Actually, if there's no one left to fight, it means no one can get hurt there anymore.

— Grandpa Gungnir! — Yua pondered. — Why does everyone call him by different names? Gulveig calls him "father," and Eir calls him "old fool"... And who are these "fools"? Is that something good?

Renold follows Karl into the basement, goes through long tunnels, and finds himself in the middle of a previously unseen fighting arena. — It's breathtaking, isn't it?

—Oh my, — outwardly, the phrase sounded like admiration; inwardly, it was the exact opposite, — wow! And what about you...? And how...? And why?

- What's so bad about that? - Veserod frowned. - Well, besides the crowds, the noise, the stench, and all the rest... They say that a neighboring country is operating here... Inciting unrest among the people... But surely a common person would prefer to live well rather than poorly. Whether it's a worker, a shopkeeper, or a peasant. Who could possibly benefit from stirring up trouble? No matter how much I travel, I still don't understand people... - he sighed heavily.

“Well, like this... Both the warriors and the spectator-sponsors need something in life that will get their blood pumping... So, how about a fight?”

—It's okay. —Ilva nodded encouragingly. —Yeah, now it's great, I really like it. —"and stop sending us on deadly missions," she added to herself.

—So, what's the difference from, you know, that other one? —Renold scratched his head in surprise. —Like, there are also spectators and blood, or what am I missing...