Roland was still worrying that these two hot potatoes might die in his territory when Flowing City's intelligence network sent back more news...
"Damn! They're actually eating now?" Roland was so shocked his teeth hurt. Wasn't Aragorn supposed to be traveling? Had he traveled straight into a ditch? And now they were eating? Judging by their route through Flowing City, were they planning to eat their way from the west end of the city to the east?
"Uh... then what should we do?" Darian Nightblade said helplessly. The two of them had tucked themselves into Flowing City like turtles and refused to budge, leaving the Shadow Guard under Darian Nightblade's command completely at a loss. They couldn't exactly go in person, grab Aragorn and Legolas by the collars, and throw them out.
"Damn! Miscalculated! Those two can really endure!" Roland clicked his tongue. He had imagined countless ways of meeting Aragorn, but he had never expected Flowing City's food to be the thing preventing him from meeting the only man of Gondor's royal blood.
"But honestly, Flowing City's food really is good! Although Lagrange City received guidance from our army cooks, their cooking is still hard to describe!" Darian Nightblade thought about the pig slop he had eaten in the past. Before Roland promoted stir-frying, the Lagrangeans' dining tables had been no different from those of ordinary Middle-earth folk: frying, roasting, stewing, boiling, and deep-frying. Aside from salt and spices, there was no other way to enhance flavor, and the resulting dishes were simply indescribable.
"It's still better than eating roasted meat dipped in pepper powder, isn't it?" Roland rolled his eyes, recalling what the nobles' so-called banquets had looked like when he first arrived. A plate of snow salt and a plate of pepper powder; roasted meat dipped in