The Legend of Fatality

El-Urik is a real merchant giant of Ryremas. He has a large fleet and belongs to everyone in the city of Tiar. He was in charge of the many rights of Real Maas, and even the three random executives of the fifty-member council would not easily offend him.

El-Urik ’s private room was not as luxurious as the outside, and Brahe, who was standing not far in front of him, had noticed. The two landscape paintings hang on the paneled wall, not the plaster wall with carved gold inlaid on the outside and covered with gorgeous blankets. The chair that Brach sat on was made by some elven master, no more than a hundred years. The heavy dark wood was painstakingly carved into a simple and symmetrical style. Some little nobles will own such a piece of art at all costs, and the discerning rich businessmen are willing to pay a lot of money to sit on it.

By comparison, Karl Brahe is willing to give everything he has to get rid of it. Even though his body was unconstrained, fear kept him in place. His knuckles grabbed his arm, and he looked like he wanted to vomit, although as the housekeeper told Al-Urik, he had vomited everything he knew.

El-Urik leaned back on his chair, putting his hands on the very expensive hand-made gold-inlaid velvet top. The corners of his mouth curled up, watching his conversation quietly.

Karl Brahe looks very strange, not because this person is almost incontinent because of fear, or because of the terrible bruise left in the warm talks before coming here. Uric couldn't tell what was wrong, but the man in front of him had a strange look.

Yurik was silent for a long time, and his large clock gently rang in the back. The midday sun slanted into the glass window and shone on a thick wool carpet. The two are alone, face to face in a beautifully furnished luxurious room. If it were in another situation, such a scene would be calm and friendly.

Brahe had been sitting there, trembling all over, his skin as gray as the feathers of a dove.

Urik finally cleared his throat.

"You made a mistake, you know?" He said.

Brahe was a little panicked, as if the problem might be some kind of prank, and then shook his head quickly.

"I don't know, okay. In fact, I'm not sure. The Fatalin Association, there may be hundreds of such small organizations. If it is not allowed by law, there may be thousands. I think no one really cares These small organizations. "

Brahe seemed to be trying his best to say something, but he just moved his lips and did not make a sound.

"But, Mr. Brahe, we are businessmen." Ayre shook his head, withdrew his hand from the table and held it tightly against his chest. "At Realmas, the amount of your property makes you noble, and what we protect is actually your wealth. Therefore, here, we go to buy what we like and defeat the enemy with commercial means, which makes our Is the city better? "

Braach reluctantly said something, but his voice was faint, he tried again, moving his chin in pain.

"Will you kill me?"

"No, unless you reject my proposal." Al said.

Brah started to cry softly, his thin chest undulating as he tried to hold back sobbing.

A trace of impatience flashed on Al's face.

"Now, you are given a proposal-you will pay one-third of the property, a person in charge of this matter. Would you like to do this? Or I let the board take over this matter?"

"No, my God, don't." Brahe said painfully.

"Very good." Al pulled a piece of parchment from the drawer on the table, which was covered with fine writing. Then handed the parchment and ink pen to the other party, indicating that the other party signed their name at the end.

Bracher trembled to sign his name, and Al took the parchment and read the scribbled signature. Blow gently, roll up the parchment, stretch out the bell rope not far from hand.

The door of the room was pushed open, and walked into a well-dressed old man and several servants. The old man went to the table and directed the servant to help Brahe out.

"There is one-third of Mr. Brahe's property. You take care of it and try to get something that will not affect his business." Al-Yurik handed the sheepskin roll to the butler waiting at the table. "There are also those two people who deal with it and send it to the Fatalin Association with the person from Mr. Brahe. Try to show our goodwill."

"Observe, sir." The butler leaned over and saluted the roll of sheepskin.

Al-Yurik looked at another message on the table that was tortured by two people on board and fell into contemplation.

Heavy wooden tables are filled with various utensils, and dark marks remain in the gaps of the table. The whole room looks cold and abnormal, even if there are already three people in the small space, it still can't bring a touch of warmth.

"So, what does the Fatalin Association want you to do?"

Gerofo's broken face twisted, struggling between two opposing fears. He looked at Eichmann in begging, then looked away, and then moved back again.

"I won't ask twice a question, Mr. Jerome." Eichmann said softly, but the threat between the lines was like a sharp blade. "You can answer as long as you want."

Gerald looked miserable, his hands clenched and released quickly. He glanced desperately at the window a few feet away, and the sky outside the window was blue.

"If I tell you." Gerald's words still stuttered. "Can I survive?"

"answer my question."

His tears ran down again, and they shone like pearls on the blood-stained cheeks, Jerome sat on the chair, one hand still holding his arm, and the fingernails were still on the floor .

Eichmann stood up beside him, moved his fingers, and his boots creaked on the nails on the ground. He took a pistol out of the holster on his belt and pulled his hammer back with his thumb.

"Recruit adventurers." Gerald said feebly. "He wants to recruit adventurers."

"What to do?"

"I do not know."

Acherman pointed his pistol at his right leg.

"I really don't know, he never told me."

Echmann closed his eyes and pointed the gorgeous barrel calmly at the base of the man's thigh.

"Damn! They want me to spread the news. That **** Fatalin Association will recruit all kinds of unsavory mages. What other magic books to buy, but I really don't know what they are going to do. They only mention one western side Island, they came from that island. I also heard that there is a tower on the island, a black tower. "

Eichmann stopped, and Jerome's frightened eyes revealed real thoughts. After years of work, Eichenmann usually knows when a person will tell himself everything he knows ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ is not very specific, Mr. Jerome. "He closed the hammer and said.

"I tell you everything, I know everything."

"Yes, I believe you." Eichmann turned his head.

"What will you do with me now, sir?" Gerald's body was shaking all the time.

"The question is over." Eichmann said to Rennes who was at the gate in the distance. "Ryan, please **** Mr. Jerome away from here and take him home. I believe he was only used because of greed. He will have a month of confession in the local temple, and I believe the priest will agree. "

While Eichmann was speaking, a look of suspicion appeared on Jerome's desperate face. His body was still trembling, but his hands were gently loosened.

"Okay, sir." Ren said. "Is there anything else?"

"This is the power of attorney for the temple. I don't care who you give it to." Eichmann took the parchment with authorization and handed it to Rennes.

Ryan looked at the authorization carefully, and lifted Jerome in one hand with one hand. "Okay, sir."

"--Thank you," Gerald couldn't believe that since he survived, he bowed and rubbed his injured hand. "The Lord bless you, sir. Thank you."

The church is not without its benevolent side. Gerald walked out of the room with his feet, and Ren followed him out, his boots falling heavily on the floor, and then shut the door.

Became a man again, Echmann leaned back, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair and crossing his fingers together. For a long time, he didn't do anything. After a while he moved again, however, only his lips were moving, and a few words were silently spoken in his mouth.

Fatlin Association.