Dragonborn from Lord of the Rings

Chapter 281: Tavern riot, everyone is taking action

Time passed slowly, and the dirty voices coming from the open windows of the tavern, the barking of dogs, the secret whispers in dark corners, and the footsteps of patrolling guards gradually changed from noisy to faint. Until dawn was approaching, all the customers began to go out, leaving only the drunkard and a small waitress at the bar.

Ah, there are others, some with bad intentions.

"Hey, wake up!" The drunkard heard a voice that seemed to come from a very far away place. Then someone shook his shoulder. He sleepily opened his good eye and raised his head, and saw several strong men forming a semicircle around him. The leader was staring at him fiercely.

"What's the matter, gentlemen?" the one-eyed guest said lazily, as if he hadn't woken up from a hangover.

"Hey, you can't stay here!" shouted another, taking a step closer and tapping the poor man's shoulder with his finger.

"What?" The one-eyed guy blinked his eyes, as if he still didn't understand what they meant, "What does this have to do with you? I mean, this is a tavern after all, even if I am really drunk. , the boss here can also get me to the room upstairs so that I can have a good sleep, right? "

Doom, the owner of the hay trough in the old stable, poked his head out of the kitchen door in fear, "Yes, yes, I can provide accommodation, just a few Septim silver coins are enough." He said.

"Shut up." One of those bad guys said viciously from the tavern owner: "It's none of your business here. If you don't want to get into trouble, just get out of here."

"Sheriff..." Doom muttered something vague with a pale face, and pushed the frightened waitress into the kitchen, "You can't..."

"Aha," the guest seemed to finally understand. He shook his head and said calmly, "I don't have much money, gentlemen, maybe this is not worth what you do."

"We don't think so." A guy with a strong smell of alcohol stretched out his right hand greedily to grab the bag hanging on the guest's waist. This is a burly guy, taller than the Red Guards - the assassin thought boredly.

This guy's action seemed to be a signal. Before he could touch his trophy, the guy they thought was the fat sheep had already jumped forward. He squatted down suddenly to the right and held the trophy with his right hand. He raised the man high with the elbow of his arm, and at the same time, a flash of silver light flashed from his left hand. Facing the gradually extinguishing firelight of the fireplace, a dagger quickly pierced the man's armpit out of nothing.

The whole group seemed to jump to their feet at the same moment. "Look what you did!" A murderer whose chest was open, revealing a bunch of disgusting chest hair, shouted, stretched out his right hand to pinch the neck of one eye.

But the movements of this guy they regarded as a fat sheep were so swift and cold. I saw him quickly kicking away the guy whose half-life was ruined by him, flipping somersault in the air, and easily dodging the idiot's attack. He spun around in the air and landed behind the two thugs, facing his enemies.

"You have found the wrong target!" the one-eyed man shouted, turning around to attack. The dagger seemed to come alive in his hands, and he skillfully performed a series of moves, blocks and counterattacks, and clever counterattacks. Almost instantly, the thug with a bunch of disgusting chest hair staggered to the side, and suddenly raised his free hand to press his throat - his eyes widened, not only shocked by the accuracy of this assassin's attack, but also It was even more because he was worried that he had been fatally injured.

One of his companions shouted loudly, swung the table legs and chair removed from the side, and rushed towards the enemy holding a knife.

An unarmed thug chased after him, not minding fighting the enemy with his fists.

Two other thugs took out daggers and were waiting for an opportunity outside the battle group.

The one-eyed man jumped onto the table and jumped down again without touching any wine glasses or dishes. When he landed, he put one foot on the back of the chair and one foot on the chair surface, and did another somersault. This time, when he landed, his center of gravity tilted to the right, and he rushed to the right with a fierce offensive, and the dagger he waved seemed to be spinning. of strong wind.

He felt the weapon slam into the chest of a knife-wielding thug. It is commendable that this thug was more ferocious than his previous companions. He actually endured the burst of pain and the fear of imminent death. He screamed loudly and tucked the arms of this dangerous opponent under his armpits. Then, with the fury and despair of a human being before death, he tried hard to twist his body outwards, trying to wrest the weapon from the enemy's hand.

But the assassin smiled ferociously, released his right hand holding the dagger, turned right, re-held the dagger with his left hand, and cut open the man's ribs and heart. He could feel the resistance of the blade as it cut through the man's body, and could imagine the warmth of the blood flowing through his arm.

The poor creature opened his mouth helplessly, uttered a meaningless hoarse sound, released the assassin's arm, and fell to the ground dead.

Finally, the last thug got scared and turned around to run away.

The man casually threw out his dagger.

The thug stumbled out a few steps, knocked down several tables and chairs, and then fell to the ground.

It was a brutal killing, and all the thugs died except for the first one. The strong smell of blood even covered up the disgusting smell of the tavern.

"Look what you did!" The boss ran out of the kitchen, his pale face making him look more like a dead person than those on the ground. "The Sheriff... they... we..." he screamed incoherently.

"What?" The murderer calmly walked to the fleeing thug. "Sure, Shu'er, don't you think I was forced?"

"Or is this a black shop and they are thugs you hired?" He looked at the boss fiercely.

The poor tavern owner shook his head desperately, fearing that he would kill him too. The man knelt down on one knee and pulled the knife out of the poor thug's back. Stand up and walk towards the last thug who is still resisting. He strangled his neck tightly, and blood continued to spit out from his mouth.

"Can he survive?" Doom asked nervously.

"It's not poisonous." The man confirmed to him, "It's not fatal either."

"Good news!" the tavern owner said in surprise, "The Sheriff will learn the truth from him. I...we are innocent..."

But the man with only one eye stood up, his features tightly knitted together. "No," the man corrected, suddenly thrusting out the dagger, almost splitting the unfortunate guy in half, "Only I can decide whether he is guilty or not!"

※※※※※

"A killer." Nerion said, with a sullen look on his face. Qualanir, who had returned to their room at some point, was much calmer. Through spells, the magicians from the Psijic Order on Artayum Island could clearly see the battle on the first floor. "Maybe, but obviously he most likely didn't come for us."

"How to say?"

"If he is coming for us, they will not expose themselves before their purpose is achieved."

"them?"

"A guess, Nerion, a bold guess."

"The Order never encourages speculation. What we need is rigorous deduction."

"Guessing is a kind of imagination, and anyone who wants to go further in the journey of magic must have it."

"No, the journey of magic requires rigor and understanding and analysis of everything."

The two of them were monitoring and arguing quietly. Until the dangerous man rushed out of the door amidst the screams of the tavern owner and disappeared into the darkest night before dawn.

"he's gone."

The dense darkness brought great obstacles to the surveillance spell, and Nairien cursed and put away the spell. Qualanir closed his eyes, and waves of magic flashed through him.

"It should be." The high elf opened his eyes and said.

"It seems that they are really not here for us..." Nailion's words were interrupted by the noisy whistle and footsteps. The patrolling guards, led by a sheriff, quickly broke through the door of the tavern and rushed in. .

Behind the guard was the frightened waitress.

"It's been a sleepless night tonight." Dan Monairion sighed.

※※※※※

"I must say, even though it's just our first meeting, it's amazing how powerful you are," Mednach said thoughtfully, trying to sound as sincere as possible. For this reason, he even spread his hands slightly playfully and shrugged like a clown, "Many people may be ashamed to admit their insignificance in front of beings that are greater than them out of some ridiculous things such as pride. , but necessary introspection and rationality are the prerequisites for a person or even a group to continue! And overconfidence is arrogance. A conceited person travels alone, but does not pay attention to where to find allies. This is very dangerous for life on this cruel continent, what do you think?”

"A very beautiful and sensible point of view," Turka nodded, but then he said unequivocally: "But I heard...a threat in your words?"

Mednach was silent for a long time, sweat flowing from his back to his buttocks. The tension made every word seem to use all his strength: "Language has different meanings in different people, but what is certain is that, I didn’t mean that!”

"Very good." Turka said with a smile. "Most people don't like someone to suddenly jump out and threaten them. What do you think? Mr. King."

"You're right."

The conversation continues.

"None of us are politicians, right? So, let's say it straight, my lord?"

"I'm listening." Turka made a listening gesture, turning a blind eye to the ragged king's somewhat flattering address. But in the mainland, he was frantically recalling his increasingly blurry past. Finally, I found relevant information about Pian Lu in the corner of my memory.

Mednaki... the Forsworn... Markarth... uh, is it the legendary Markarth Rebellion that Ulfric put down? 4E 173, the time is right...in other words, the siege of the imperial capital will begin soon? It seems to be the second seed moon of 174 years? Hmm, I don’t really remember... After the siege of the imperial capital, it was the Battle of the Red Ring? In what year was the "Platinum Agreement" signed... The empire banned the belief in Talos, and this powerful trinity of gods actually didn't care. Is it true, as some lore said, that Tiber Septim became a god? Shocking lie? Or is there something wrong with this dragon-born emperor when he ascended to heaven and became a god?

Morag Bal's soul fragments appear to contain no memory of the god. Well, this part can be ignored for now, after all, what he has 'seen' is only part of the vampire father's memory.

But, remember, we said before that if someone wants to ascend to heaven and become a god and perform a dragon-breaking, then this new god or extraordinary event will inevitably return to the 'starting point' from the 'end' and become an eternal person/thing. The gods/facts that exist [1]! His process of becoming a god is actually 'past tense'! But as far as Turka knows, Talos is not like this. At least there is no record of his existence in human history from the Dawn Era to the Third Era...

[1: The most typical one is the "Western Distortion" event that took place between 3e405 and 3e417? - that is, the main plot of "The Elder Scrolls 2: Daggerfall" - after this event, the Bay of Bones (located in High Rock Province), which was once a small country, was ), only the four major forces of Wayrest, Daggerfall, Outpost, and Ossining are left, and these four major forces are actually loyal to the empire, and the rebellions in the empire seem to have stopped, and the continent of Tamriel has entered a new era. The most bizarre thing is that all participants felt inexplicable but natural about this incident. 】

So, can we say that Talos may indeed be a 'false god' as the elves said?

"You must also know," Mednach's words interrupted Turka's thoughts, "This war has brought painful lessons to all of us. Blood is flowing on every street, and crows are flying over the city. hovering..."

Turka once again supported his chin with his hand and looked at him expressionlessly. He was not afraid of the ambush outside the inn. He even saw through the bones of the earth those monsters with human bodies and bird wings that he had seen earlier on the Peak of Kas' Spear - Well, if he remembered correctly, these monsters seemed to be called crow hags? Compared to before, he was now more confident in fighting against these monsters and their tribe. Morag Bal's legacy was not a bad thing in a way. So, is this 'king' planning to use morality and humanity to kidnap him? Then he might be disappointed. Turka may know more about this war than the leader of the Reachers. After all, Mednachi does not know that deep under Markarth, Molag Bale is eagerly preparing to kill his The tribe and the residents of Markarth were dragged into hell together!

And, if it had been when he first arrived in Middle-earth, he might have stood up and tried to save everyone! But after experiencing so much, Turka now knows that no one can save everyone! That is not the authority of mortals or even gods!

"Everything in the world has its own reason for existing, doesn't it? You see, the existence of water allows us to have fish to eat and allows our ships to sail; the purpose of the air is to allow us to breathe freely; and the earth provides us with food. , at the same time we can build houses to provide shelter from wind and rain; trees sacrifice themselves to allow us to build large ships; even if it is rain and snow, unlike salty sea water, they can provide us with delicious drinking water. It has its own value." Turka said calmly, his eyes full of wisdom and indifference, which made the king pause for a moment while he was talking, and the feeling of being targeted by an ancient beast came to his mind again.

"so?"

"So death is also a point in this cycle." The other party's wise eyes seemed to say that he already knew his purpose, and Mednach's plan was doomed to fail, and his hope was nothing more than drawing water from a bamboo basket and reflecting the moon through the mirror. "Isn't it?"

Mednach felt his mouth was dry, so he took the bottle of wine on the table and poured himself a glass tremblingly. The glycol liquid allowed him to suppress his wildly beating heart. He thought for a long time and said: "Death may be a favor given to mankind by the gods, but a favor that comes prematurely is not a reward but a curse! I heard... …”

The night went on, but the conversation continued.