Inside the Jumping Goblin Heads Magic Staff Shop.
More precisely, beneath the shop.
Trist sat at the solid wooden desk, reading a book with intense concentration by the soft light of a Magic Lamp.
If He Xi had been here, he would have recognized it as the Dungeon Ingredient Handling Guide he had given the Drow Elf earlier—the excerpted edition.
As he read, he unconsciously licked his lips. His throat bobbed now and then, as if the words on the page had turned into delicious food in his mouth.
After a long while.
He closed the book, still wanting more, and longing light flickered in his deep-red eyes.
A neat stack of manuscripts sat on the other side of the desk. They were the new work he had been laboring over day and night.
He knew that his generous landlady, Madam Fivik, had been eagerly awaiting the next installment of The Skin Peeler in the Woods. She had even threatened several times to kick him out if he didn't hurry up and write more. As a "tenant" staying here, he also knew he ought to do his best to finish the work, repaying the woman for taking him in.
But unfortunately, it had been a long time since he had hunted elves for "inspiration."
In such comfortable, peaceful surroundings, he simply couldn't write the kind of words steeped in blood and oppression.
As a writer with principles, he couldn't bring himself to give readers work he wasn't satisfied with, even if it meant going hungry.
Still, there was no denying that he had enjoyed living here.
Especially after meeting that young human mage named Galen.
He couldn't forget the kindness the other man had shown him at their first meeting, free of prejudice or fear.
It was a warmth he