Chapter 662 Times Have Changed

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Sword of Dawn Chapter 662: Times have changed

It has been a few days since the news of the victory on the Eastern Front came. In the southern border area, where information transmission channels are more developed, more and more news is spreading between cities and villages.

In the streets and alleys, in the card room of the tavern, almost everyone is eagerly discussing the recent amazing and exciting news, the past of the Ansu royal family and the future of the Cecil Empire. In this land, even if it is The most ordinary citizens will express their opinions on similar topics, no matter how ridiculous and shallow the opinions are.

Rock City, in a tavern in the merchant district, the bright magic spar lamps dispel the darkness at dusk, the rows of wine bottles placed on the shelves of the bar are rubbed and shiny, and the wine in the bottles is illuminated by the lights With a seductive brilliance, a small rectangular machine like a cabinet was placed next to the bar. The small machine was spreading the country tunes that people from the South loved. The rhythm was simple, bright and cheerful.

A light shone on the nameplate on the top of the small machine, and the words "Kord's Home Business Company" gleamed on the surface of the brass nameplate.

A man in overalls was sitting in front of the bar. He took the beer mug handed over by the bartender and raised it slightly, "Cheers to off-duty time."

"Joe, have you read the latest newspaper?" A tall and thin man sat next to him and said casually, "The royal family has come to an end—even the king has voluntarily abdicated."

"Inevitably, didn't Mr. Godwin say that the kingship is over, and after this battle, the kingdom will not be able to last any longer. If it weren't for the rescue of our southern army, the northern region would be completely destroyed, and the royal family has already controlled it. What can I do if I can't live with the situation, if I don't reorganize..."

"Indeed, the newspaper said that the eastern part of the Holy Spirit Plain was completely in ruins. If the Cecil Corps hadn't blocked the river in time, the western part would probably not have survived."

"Salute to Gawain Cecil - we'll be calling him Your Majesty soon," the man in the overalls laughed, shaking the cup in his hand, "It's not bad, he's much better than the king... Speaking of the king Who is coming?"

"It's Wales who just abdicated, but I guess you're talking about Francesey... it doesn't make much difference anyway, we don't know each other."

The two laughed, and it seemed that no one regretted the end of Ansu's reign.

For a long time in the past, the southerners didn't care about their king. This abandoned land has been on its own since a century ago. For that distant Saint Sunil and the Silver Fort, many southerners Even treat it as part of the story.

Ordinary people are like that.

However, not everyone thought the same. The sound of a wine glass hitting the table suddenly came from not far away, causing several pairs of eyes near the bar to turn away.

"I just can't figure it out..." A man with a snort of alcohol and a shaggy beard muttered there, but the loud voice could be heard around him, "Isn't he a duke, duke... Why did the duke suddenly become king? Now... the duke can't be king..."

"Hey, Potter, you're drunk again," someone familiar shouted from behind, "you've been here since the morning, haven't you?"

Another person reminded next to the drunk man, "It's not the king, it should be called His Majesty the Emperor - the title of king is gone."

"It's the same with the emperor...the emperor...and the government affairs office and the constitution are a bunch of things that people can't figure out..." The drunk man stood up staggeringly, throwing off a few pairs of pairs to help With his hand, he staggered past the bar, "What do you say there are new opportunities everywhere... new opportunities to hell..."

The swaying man walked down the aisle, and suddenly stopped beside the small machine beside the bar that was playing country ballads. His drunken eyes rolled around, and anger suddenly appeared.

"You...noisy thing, you ruined...ruined my job..."

He cursed, suddenly raised his foot and kicked the machine - but before he raised his foot, the bartender behind the bar had raised his hand, and the magic device on the latter's wrist flickered, and a cloud of The cold ice cube smashed into the drunk man's face, knocking him over on his back.

The two security guards stepped forward, dragged the drunk man who was still making a noise, and were about to drag him out of the door, but the bartender stopped the security guard and came to the drunk man, reaching out and taking out a copper plate from the other's pocket. Come.

"Ice now, a copper coin." The bartender shook the magic terminal in his hand, which was used to make ice and fire, in front of the drunken man. After confirming that the other party nodded, he got up and left.

The drunken man was dragged away, and the small riot was just a trivial episode. People continued to drink when they should drink, and chat when they should chat. Some unfamiliar people inquired about the origin of the drunk man, and some people explained, "That? Potter, a bard—a crappy organist actually, and his noises weren't heard much before, and no one now."

"He went to the factory for a few days, and was fired for stealing things, and he didn't want to go down and do something else. Now... I think he's probably sold all his pianos."

"The bard... no wonder he thought it was the Cord player that ruined his job."

"It's not just the phonograph, he's blamed the newspapers and the magic-web radio before, even the chess and football teams - saying that it's because these things attract people's attention that people don't want to listen to them in the square. His stories and performances..."

It seems that this little episode has caused a discussion in people's spare time. Listening to the discussions around, the man in workwear in front of the bar turned his head and glanced at the tall and thin man beside him, "Speaking of which, I remember. You're a bard too - now that you don't go to the streets, do you also blame the machine for killing your job?"

The tall and thin man looked at the small machine next to the bar, and then at his friend, and suddenly laughed smugly.

"Are you familiar with the sounds in this machine?" He smiled smugly, seeing the stunned expression on his old friend's face, his smile became even brighter, "This is what I recorded...well, although only two of them were recorded. "

Many people around heard the conversation here, and some people couldn't help but look surprised - seeing the people in the magic machine appear alive in front of them, this feeling is novel and interesting at any time, and I harvested it. Many tall and thin men with surprised eyes smiled reservedly and added, "But I really like telling stories more than playing, so I plan to go to the Magic Web Broadcasting Bureau in Carroll City to try it out. Bian seems to be recruiting people who are good at storytelling for a new show..."

More and more people gathered around the bar, and a new topic of conversation clearly emerged there, but in a corner farther from the bar, a thin and pale man in old robes with short brown hair was messy. Still sitting quietly in his seat, he doesn't seem to be interested in what's happening in this bar or what the people around him are discussing.

In front of the thin and pale man, a newspaper of the current issue was quietly spreading on the table. His eyes moved slowly on the newspaper, focusing on one of the pages.

"According to the preliminary investigation, the disaster created by the Doomsday Society originated from the 'power of the gods' that they stole, and the 'evil creation' that was jointly destroyed by the Cecil Legion and the Kraken allies seems to be a believer in the end of all things. The imitation of the gods made by some means...

"The power of this imitation is derived from the fallen god of nature...

"The god of nature, the god that the Druids once believed in, there is evidence that the fall of this god occurred three thousand years ago..."

After reading the contents of the newspaper, the thin and pale middle-aged man suddenly sighed softly, "This kind of content...is actually printed on the newspaper, and is allowed to be discussed by the civilians who have just been literate... Could it be that we are wrong here? ?"

No one heard his deep sigh. After the thin and pale middle-aged man finished speaking, he quietly stood up. He rubbed his fingers lightly, and a flame suddenly ignited out of thin air, burning in an instant. The newspaper on the table fell.

Looking at the ashes on the table, after a moment of trance, he turned around and walked straight to the door of the bar, pushed open the door and left.

"Rock City... I didn't expect this place to become so prosperous."

Walking on the streets of this southern gateway city, the middle-aged man couldn't help muttering while looking at the tall and new buildings and wide and tidy streets around him.

Then he noticed that the surrounding pedestrians suddenly ran away, and a large group of security personnel in black uniforms, equipped with weapons and shield devices had appeared at various nearby crossings at some point, and quickly gathered towards this side.

The first reaction of the thin and pale man was to reach out and touch his waist - there was a short sword for self-defense, but after noticing the number of security guards and the weapons and equipment in their hands, he stopped wisely.

A tall sheriff stepped forward, and the solid magic shield shimmered around the sheriff. "Sir, put down your weapons and put your hands above your head! You have been arrested for violating the Supernatural Control Act!"

At the same time as the loud announcement, the sheriff also quickly looked at the man in front of him out of professional instinct.

Wearing an outdated traditional short robe, a lace-up cloth belt, hand-stitched boots, and what appears to be wide-leg trousers under the short robe... an obvious foreigner, and he must have just arrived in the South.

In the south, changes in labor tools and labor methods have caused changes in all aspects - due to the safe operation requirements of various types of machinery and equipment, due to the dress code of the factory, new clothing that is closed, light, easy to move, beautiful and practical has gradually become the mainstream. , tunics of all kinds, wide-leg trousers, wide-brimmed long-sleeves, and coats with lace-up belts are gradually being replaced by close-fitting dresses and light workwear, as well as everyday variations of such garments, although some scholars believe that " The change that "machines determine people" is a kind of bondage and a retrogression of traditional customs, but it is undeniable that 90% of the workers in the southern border are accepting such changes, and those who still maintain the old-fashioned dress... or It is a more conservative person, or a foreigner.

In this fortress city at the gateway to the south, the latter is more likely.

The middle-aged man surrounded by the security guards was obviously still in shock and surprise, but he still understood what the sheriff meant.

The sheriff nodded. "Very well, sir, being cooperative is a good start—your name?"

The middle-aged man watched vigilantly at the security guards around him. He was silent for two seconds, but he finally said cooperatively, "Bud... Bud Wendell."

"Mr. Badbad?"

The middle-aged man's face trembled slightly. "No, it's Bud Wendell. There is only one Bud."

The sheriff still maintained a serious look. "Okay, Mr. Wendell, you need to come with us next - whether you can be released depends on your performance."

"Why did you arrest me?" The middle-aged man finally couldn't help but say, "I didn't hurt anyone..."

"We detected unauthorized spellcasting," the sheriff said, staring at Bud. "Times have changed, Mr. Wendell, where's your spellcasting license?"

Bud was stunned. "...Spellcasting license? What is that?"

The sheriff shrugged. "Okay, then it looks like you sneaked in. This time, I'm afraid you're really going to be locked up."

The corners of Bud's eyes trembled, but after a brief hesitant thought, he finally sighed.

"It doesn't matter now...it doesn't matter," he sighed. "Whatever you want, I won't resist."

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