Instaron's mouth fell open.
He nearly froze. "...My god, you went on for that long just to refute me? Should I feel honored or at a loss? I think this is the first time since I've known you that you've done this. And, my old friend, that sounded a little like someone from Jiufeng. I didn't know you had a talent for linguistics."
Tagus glanced at him. "I've always had it. You just never noticed. Before my hundredth birthday, I always thought I would become a scholar."
The poor Black Baron rolled his eyes.
"Then what do you suggest?" He pointed at Brando, then at Boban beside him. "That's Brank. You know who he is, right? One of the greatest rulers in the history of the Antobruo Duchy. Good heavens, if we take these two back to the Realm of Eternal Death together, we might as well wait for His Majesty to cut off our heads."
Tagus looked over there, falling silent.
"Take it one step at a time," he replied.
"That doesn't sound like you, Tagus."
"It doesn't," Tagus replied. "Because it is."
For the first time, Instaron realized that his companion actually had quite a talent for humor, though Tagus himself probably didn't think so.
Instaron was beginning to admit that Tagus truly had the makings of a scholar. At least, he seemed to share Instaron's own nervous temperament.
Unfortunately, that was completely useless.
"Fifth column, seventh row... eighth row..."
Delphine struggled to support herself on the ladder. Her face was as pale as thin paper, and sweat poured down her body, covering her nearly translucent skin in a fine, dense sheen.
Yet she carefully made sure not a single drop of sweat touched the shelves. That would be a fatal mistake, one that absolutely could not