A strange world

Chapter 921 Chapter 152. Go home

"Gone?"

Garr saw Losi grinning as he tied up Fermi and took off his plate armor, making a loud sound.

"Phew...it's over." Losey said.

"It's over! It's over! It's over!" The goblin was jumping around.

"Go away and make noise, mung bean sprouts!" Gal waved his battle ax to drive away the goblins and continued: "Gall spent several days just walking on the street?"

"You think of it as, um... a celebration of your tribe's victory over an enemy," Losey explained.

"Gall gets it, you humans are so boring."

"How will you orcs celebrate, barbecue and eat meat?" Losey asked curiously.

"We will wrestle around the campfire, barbecue, and be picked by women to give birth to children." Gal said in a dull voice.

"That is indeed richer than us..."

"You're doing a great job, you guys." One-eyed instructor Lyric came over at this time, "You are more popular than the Black Watch and the Blue and Gold Guards. Do you know how many noble ladies are out there coveting your bodies?"

"How many?"

"It can be queued from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the mountain!"

The surrounding soldiers burst into laughter. The energetic young men liked this.

"Okay, put on your regular clothes. The Imperial Ceremony Department will prepare a banquet later." Lyric looked at Gal, "As for you guys..."

"Garr doesn't like it here. Garr wants to take the soldiers back to Liberty City."

"I'm afraid not, there's a big shot asking you to go." Lyric said, "Don't ask me, I don't know who it is."

Soon, someone from the empire opened the portal and sent the soldiers from Liberty City to the foot of the mountain, where a banquet belonging to the coalition was being held.

In the palace garden around the mountain, a banquet of big shots was going on at the same time.

Annan, who stole the show in the victory parade, was welcomed - not only women, but also many nobles were interested in Annan's magic musket that civilians could also use.

Although I have heard about magic guns for a long time, seeing it with my own eyes is another matter.

Annan didn't know what the magic gun was selling for now, so he pushed it to Olmedo and asked them to go to Free City to discuss trade.

Ten minutes into the banquet, Annan barely escaped from the enthusiasm of the nobles, because a real big shot came: Freemond Ollie, the Minister of Etiquette of the Empire.

Because of his niece Isabel, Annan had a good relationship with Fremond Ollie, or in other words, Fremond Ollie admired him.

Except that Annan never stayed in his own territory like a decision-maker, nor did he behave like a nobleman on weekdays, every step he took was traceable.

"Will the emperor come?" Annan asked in a low voice.

Fremond Ollie shook his head: "This is not the occasion for His Majesty to appear."

Annan felt regretful that, as both young men, he had not yet had the opportunity to have direct contact with the young emperor.

"If you want, you can come to the imperial meeting in three months."

"Forget it, who knows where I will be at that time."

It is obviously impossible for Annan to stay in Liberty City for three months...

Freemond Ollie stayed with Annan for a while and then walked away. Annan started the main business tonight: getting to know nobles everywhere and enriching the list full of noble names.

In the middle of the banquet, there was a sudden noise outside the banquet door.

A group of fully armed guards broke into the banquet with their weapons pressed, and walked straight to Annan with the sound of armor scraping.

"Your Excellency Annan Reeves, please come with us." A cold voice came from the helmet.

"Sorry, let me settle some things first." Annan apologized to the lady he was talking to, then looked at the guard: "What's wrong?"

"We need you to participate in an investigation. This is a special order from the Ministry of Military Affairs."

The guard showed a parchment with the two-headed lion emblem of the Empire.

Annan's black eyes swept across the guests who were looking over here, but he did not see Freemond Ollie.

What qualifications does the empire have to arrest itself?

"what is the reason?"

The guard lowered his voice: "The envoy of the Kingdom of Montreal was killed."

"Is there such a good thing?" Annan felt a surprise that didn't seem to be fake.

The guard did not respond to Annan, but just stepped aside to make way.

"Okay, my suspicion is indeed not small... But if it weren't for me..." Annan pointed to the guests around him, "How will you solve the damage to my reputation caused by this misunderstanding?"

Annan was not worried about being framed at all...but if he had known that this would happen, he would have chosen a men's dress from his ancestor's wardrobe and put it on before he came.

"The Imperial Military Ministry will be fully responsible."

"Okay, I'll go with you."

Annan followed the guards out of the lively banquet. The cool autumn night breeze blew in his face. He narrowed his eyes slightly and got on the carriage heading to the dungeon.

On the way, Annan saw the city guards and cavalry patrolling frequently. It seemed that the assassination of the special envoy made them busy as well.

Dozens of minutes later, Annan was taken to the dungeon.

The middle-aged man in black uniform stood in front of the dungeon door and introduced himself: "Hello, Lord of Liberty City, I am the warden."

Annan, who was looking around curiously, retracted his gaze: "Hello, do you need to cover your eyes?"

"No, you are not a prisoner yet."

The warden said coldly, signaling the guards to take Annan to the cell.

The cell they prepared for Annan contained a magic lamp, a bed, a table and a chair, a toilet covered with a curtain, and even a bookshelf filled with books.

Much better than Annan imagined.

Annan walked into the cell and let the guard close the door behind him. He walked to the bookshelf and took out a book at random: "History of the Allen Continent".

Opening the title page, it turned out that the whole book was about the Saint Laurent calendar, and there was no Elven calendar.

That's right, the Elven calendar lasted for tens of thousands of years, how could a book be completed.

Annan wanted to take a few glances at it, but found some allusions interesting, so he sat on the bed and read with relish.

What woke Annan was the footsteps outside the cell. He raised his head and the jailer stopped at the door: "The warden wants to see you."

...

Annan came to the interrogation room.

It's called an interrogation room, but it's more like a reception room. There are no gloomy torture instruments and dirty blood that can't be washed off. Combined with the special cell, Annan guessed that this dungeon should be used to imprison nobles.

There was a stranger sitting next to the warden, who asked familiarly: "How do you feel?"

"Too comfortable, a little uncomfortable." Annan shook his head.

He was sincere. If I were to rate the dungeons I've lived in, this place would definitely be a perfect score. Except for the lack of servants who are always on call, this place has everything. As for the lowest score... it should be the Breeze City dungeon.

Mainly because Annan was mistaken for the King of the North at that time. He had no power and was at a loss after being captured. He was in danger at any time and had the highest sense of crisis.

Annan sat across from them: "So can you tell me what happened?"