A strange world

What could be more peaceful than falling asleep to the sound of rain?

Thankfully, Martin didn't snore, so Annan had a peaceful rainy night.

When I woke up early in the morning, the rain had stopped. The sun shone through the broken clouds. The wet bluestone slabs that accumulated water reflected the pedestrians. The cool air carried the fragrance after the rain.

The night rain that heralded the arrival of summer made it difficult to cut down the wet trees, but they sold quickly—although it was still 20 copper coins.

In the afternoon, Annan and Martin came to the Dawn Tavern a little earlier than usual.

Evelin, who lives near the tavern, came earlier and was calculating yesterday's accounts at the counter. I didn’t see the female dwarf Soruman Bronzebeard. And for some reason, the bard who always came with the guests at the opening came earlier than them and sat with Mr. Fast.

"...a glass of wine, six glasses of rye, a glass of juice, a barbecue steak and two pounds of bread..."

Hearing Evelin calculate yesterday's bill for the third time, Annan said as he passed the counter: "3 silver coins and 56 copper coins."

Evelin's eyes widened cutely: "How do you know?"

"Just ordinary calculations."

Evelin's reaction reminded Annan of Aunt Susan. At that time, he casually calculated the family's monthly expenses and Aunt Susan praised him for the whole day. At first, he thought it was just because of her love, but now Annan realized that in his eyes, he was better than the bard. The knowledge that stories require "common sense" is not universal here——

For example, there is no school in the town, only one library, and the illiterate townspeople will definitely never set foot in it.

Knowledge is usually monopolized in the middle or upper levels. Annan once asked a similar question to a knowledgeable bard, and he could only add or subtract no more than two digits.

What makes Annan ashamed is that when he realizes this, his first thought is to make money based on this knowledge...

Not far away, the bard patted Fast on the shoulder with a look like "Did you see that!?"

"That doesn't mean anything."

It just made Annan go from being relatively special to being a little special.

"When will the person you called arrive?" the bard urged.

"Should..." Fast looked at the shadow leaning into the tavern at the door, "It's already here."

Annan raised his head and glanced at the figure walking into the tavern. He was stuck on it and couldn't pull it off.

He didn't even stare at the Wine Lady and Tasia like that!

The guest who came in was wearing a loose gray robe, holding a magic wand in his right hand. His long curly hair caught half of his face, and the other half had a tired face. The gray-robed mage walked into the tavern and sat directly at the wine table next to Fast and the bard. He put his magic wand against the table: "I need the strongest wine!"

This is not the same as the imagined mage... Annan thought, put down the rag and walked towards the counter.

"This is not the same as promised." The bard also stared at the guy suspiciously.

He was carrying the staff like a big sword, looking unkempt, and there was no magic ring on the finger on the edge of the table.

"As long as it can be done."

Under the watchful eyes of the two guys, Annan asked for distilled wine from Martin and delivered it to the gray-robed mage's wine table.

Still hesitating how to talk to him, the gray-robed mage picked up the wine glass and asked proactively: "Boy, you seem to be very curious about me?"

"Are you a mage?"

"Gudong...burp..."

Slapping the empty wine glass on the table, the gray-robed mage lowered his head. The curly hair he lifted revealed a hideous scar on his forehead, "I am."

The bard watched Annan's eyes light up. This guy can deceive Annan, but he can't deceive him. This kind of scar appears on the mage's body, which is too inconsistent: "You won't find a mercenary to pretend to be a mage, right?"

"I want to know... hiccup... why am I so embarrassed?"

The gray-robed mage was obviously drunk as he let out a burp that smelled of alcohol.

Annan didn't want to know, but nodded cooperatively.

It was an old-fashioned story that Annan could understand half of and guess half of. The gray-robed mage once served as an apprentice in the mage tower in Breeze City. He was competing with another apprentice, but no matter whether he was selected by the mage or became a mage, that person would always treat him as a mage. Left behind, what's even more ridiculous is that the man doesn't even know he exists.

So the gray-robed mage decided to run outside to practice, and finally became a level 3 mage before going back - and found that the man was about to become an elite mage.

The gray-robed mage, who was drinking heavily and revealing his true feelings, leaned on his chair dejectedly: "Boy, tell me, if you can't do your best, why should you work hard?"

"Because working hard is not for the best, but for yourself?"

The gray-robed mage just shook his head like a spring doll.

Annan added: "There are strong and weak gods, but I have never heard of a god who died because he was not as powerful as other gods."

This also failed to convince the gray-robed mage. He sneered and turned around and said, "Fast, where did you get the priest preparation?"

"He was just trying to comfort you."

Fast, who had been watching for a long time, sat next to him. As a boss, if you don't come here, your secret will be exposed.

The bard also came over, but he didn't tell stories or play the lute today.

"Effort is meaningless in the face of talent." The gray-robed mage said. "Just like a person without magic affinity cannot become a spell caster no matter how hard he tries."

"Annan, say something else." Fast reminded.

"let me?"

"Otherwise, should I, a rude warrior, persuade you?"

"Okay... Sir, your purpose of becoming a mage is just to compete with that person, instead of embarking on the mysterious journey of a mage?" Annan hoped that he would remember his original intention. After all, it was the magic he longed for. "There is a saying: 'It's the time you spend on the rose that makes it important.'"

Amidst the bard's cry of "Oh my God, I need to fucking write this down", the gray robe mage fell silent.

Other customers began to enter the tavern, and Martin ran to help, allowing Annan to continue talking to the gray robe mage.

"You want to become a mage?"

The sudden surprise enveloped Annan: "Can it be done?"

"Do you have money?"

Then a basin of cold water was poured down.

"If the waiter at the Dawn Tavern becomes a mage apprentice, I think as the boss I should sponsor a part of it." Mr. Fast said at this time. "Annan, you are very smart, you can have a brighter future."

"What about me, Mr. Fast?" Martin squeezed in and asked.

"You're different, you're so stupid."

The gray-robed mage glanced at Fast, and Fast and Annan understood what he meant and said, "A guest is coming. Boy, you go and deliver the wine first."

When Annan turned around, the gray-robed mage suddenly stretched out his hand toward his back and recited a spell: "Arcane Missile."

Annan, who had his back turned to the gray-robed mage, walked to the counter without noticing because he didn't understand at all.

"This thing is much better than your shabby heuristic."

The drunken gray-robed mage put down his hand and said to the startled Fast and Bard:

"He didn't respond at all. Either he has a deeper understanding of the city than any old guy in Breeze City, or he really doesn't understand Common Language."