They gave him a lead plaque with his name on it. he. Like he was a mammal.
"This is such a disgrace!" Winkle complained to his loyal servant Victor as they flew over the farmlands of Calabasas. The news made him feel bad. "Leader? Leader!"
"Every adventurer starts with a lead pan," Victor explained, the wind in his face making his lips move, which Winkel found distracting. "This is the team. Lead, Copper, Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold and Star Metal. Your Majesty, I am also a Chief Adventurer."
"But you're a man!" Also, why did the Adventurers Guild put green non-luminous star metal over shiny gold, Vai
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Will never understand. "I'm a dragon. Can you fly? Can you breathe fire and melt rocks? Can you live forever? No, then why isn't the money enough to buy gold?"
"Your Majesty, you are one of a kind." The servant Victor tried to appease his wounded pride. "Forgive my poor kind, they don't know what to do with you."
"Just this once!" Winkle said as he flew through a vast forest, smelling the scent of trolls, slime molds, and other beasts below. Seeing his approach, the birds and harpies were frightened and flew away. "Is this a troll's wood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Trolls usually live in caves, and if we can find them—"
"Minion, I don't want the troll's feces to stain my incomparable scales. I'm a dragon, remember?" Winkle took a deep breath, and then flew towards the woods. The furnace in his belly lit up, and the evil within turned the air into flames.
The huge disaster unleashed his powerful dragon fire in the forest, a bright, almost white flame burning trees, animals, everything; Winkle flew in a straight line through the forest, intending to form a complete fire circle and engulf the giant fire. Demons—and any creature unfortunate enough to live with them—are trapped inside.
Victor screamed in surprise, clutching Winkle's own mouth. "Your Majesty, what are you doing?!"
"Your request granted," Winkle replied, taking a breath and preparing for another round. Driven by wind, the fires spread into the far boreal forests, turning trees into candles and grass into ash.
To the horror of his minions, Winkle stepped through the smoke again and caught the scent of the troll below. A group of savage, green-skinned giants tried to escape the oncoming fire, only to be bombarded by dragons that spewed flames in the shape of fireballs instead of a continuous stream of flames. The projectiles exploded as soon as they hit the ground, vaporizing the beasts and blowing away the dirt, creating craters.
Congratulations! You have risen one level in [Noble]!
+30hp, +1i
t, +1 luck!
Fankel waited for the new cafe to be announced, but nothing happened. Maybe he hasn't burned the place enough. The forest borders several mountains, forming a natural border, so Vai
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The area was also bombed, intending to destroy the entire forest, not just the troll's lair.
After a few minutes of bombing, Winkle finished rebuilding the forest of Gevaudan, turning it into a beautiful, smoking hell. "Okay, the troll problem is solved!" Winkle said, very satisfied with himself. "All we have to do now is collect the bounty!"
"Your Majesty, can I..." Victor begged, the ash-filled wind making him scoff, "Your Majesty, flying is scary when you hold me in the palm of your hand. Especially when you breathe dragon fire into my neck On time."
"It must be a lack of scale on your part," Winkle said. "I sympathize with your situation, really, but what can I do to change your birth defects?"
"Can I...can I...can I ride on your back?"
Winkle looked down upon his insolent servant. "Minion, what kind of ungrateful request is this? Didn't I give you a legitimate job? When I found you this morning, you were just a thief, wandering around aimlessly. Now you're the chief of staff. My chief of staff. Don't ask for too much. "
Victor listened to his master's scolding and sighed. "I think at least I got a level out of it."
"You did it?" Isn't that enough?
"Yeah, when you asked me to be your 'Chief of Staff,' I was on Mo
ste
Squi
e", and now I've leveled up again. I didn't even know this class existed. "
"What is a squire? A male term?"
"Well, apprentices to knights or nobles. They help prepare them for battle, do menial chores for their bosses, and learn the tricks of the trade..."
"Ah, yes. A minion."
"Yes, the salary is the same."
Of course, the Manlins would replicate this glorious dragon mechanism. They learn from the best. "I didn't get a perk this time, which confused me."
"Only one for every two floors, Your Majesty."
"Who decides?"
"The gods, I suppose. Or Phomos."
"These good-for-nothing upstarts?" They always claim that they created the world, but everyone knows that the dragon created the world first. Tell me where to find them and rebuke them. "
Victor gave him a strange, suspicious look. "Condemn... I don't know, Your Majesty, I'm not religious. Maybe we can ask the bishop."
"After you climb down, we'll get my stuff back."
"After me what?"
"According to this old money benefit, the troll below will drop treasure after death. You don't want me to go down and soil myself with ashes, do you?"
Victor looked down at the fiery crater below, then back at his master. "Your Majesty, I am not immune to fire."
Not immunity - ah, yes, he forgot. In the name of the old monster maggot, how did the Manling tribe avoid extinction? "We have to wait until the fire subsides," Winkle said, "and wait until we obtain compensation for the crimes of your former employer before meeting my demands."
"Sure, sure, as long as we land somewhere safe, let me look at the map..."
No wonder the Marchioness went down to hire a thief. Fankel would also have been miserable living in a palace with only one tower.
And it's on such a small mountain. The female Manlin would be filled with jealousy when she saw the lair Wankel had built out of the highest mountains in the world. The castle had small stone walls and stood on a hill overlooking the village, and was guarded by guards armed with bows and arrows. By the time Winkle and his minions landed at their front door, they had fired several toothpicks, and the dragon retaliated by using its tail to throw some of the primates to the ground. When they stopped, Winkle waited patiently for them to bring the owner in for a civilized conversation.
According to Vai
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To the nose, the castle is filled with the scent of cats and cats, including lions, tigers, and even a sphinx. A flag symbolizing a Puss in Boots stood on top of the tower, much to the dragon's amusement.
Maybe they have good Cavaliers? It's been a while since Winkle lived up to her name.
"I've been wondering, slaves, what does the Marchioness mean in your language?"
The Minion stretched his legs, happy to be on his feet again. "This shows that she is a noble lady. Don't ask me what her status is in the kingdom. I only know that she is higher than the earl who made the request for the troll."
A noble lady? Winkel raised his head, and his sense of princess became excited. "Is she a princess?"
"Princess? I don't think so. Why?"
Disappointing old problem. "
The man's little eyes blinked. "Will Your Majesty kidnap the princess?"
"Sometimes, most were elves," says Winkle, who fondly recalls that special hunting season when he snatched the only elf princess of his generation from his rivals. He continued to brag to his fellow dragons for centuries. "This is a very popular sport among the dragon tribe. Since the Black Dragon G
a
d
ake redeemed Princess Manlin Ge
evieve. Maybe one day I'll take your minions hunting. "
"You..." his servant hesitated, as if afraid of hearing the answer, "do you eat them?"
"Of course not, do you think I'm a savage?" When I got tired of their complaints, I released them back into the wild. ” Or when his stored food runs out.
As if hearing their conversation, the soldiers on the wall were joined by a chubby, two-legged cat, wearing emerald and gold jewelry, which Winkel immediately thought would look great on top of his treasure. ;The same goes for her golden fur. Two beautiful Manlin maids stood beside the cat, looking at Winkle in horror.
Obviously, the owner is not Manlin, but Liuxu. "What are you doing here threatening my castle, Dragon Tamer?" asked the cat, Lady Louise, Minion.
Fankel couldn't help but laugh. Human, dragon taming? "I think you've set our relationship back!" Victor exclaimed humbly.
"I tamed him." Vacker grimaced. Even though the talking cat might be the Marchioness, she doesn't smell like a princess. She smells nothing like a virgin! Not worth adding to his reserves. However, since she was of aristocratic descent, Winkle deliberately answered directly. "I am Vaikr Knight Baine, the king of the Alban Mountains, the catastrophe of this era! You sent thugs to find my silver sword treasure and interrupted my long sleep. Therefore, I ask you to compensate half of it. cattle, and as compensation for the trouble I have caused you, I also want you to give me a thousand gold coins.”
"Half of my marquis's cattle?" Liuxu asked in her shrill and rude voice. "This is ridiculous!"
"I flew two hours to get here," Winkle said, emphasizing his anguish. "Two hours. Hours. I burned a few pounds of fat and smelled the shit you farmers brought here."
"Your Majesty came here and burned the local woods!" the slave Victor shouted to the Marquise. "At the request of the Count of Provence!"
"Who owes me six thousand gold coins?" Winkel pointed with his paw at the lead plate around his neck. "See that label? I'm an adventurer! The greatest your puny race has ever known!"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Victor said. "certainly."
The Marchioness squinted at the leader's tag, hissed, then turned to whisper to one of her knights. "Call Count Gilbert and explain it to me," Winkle heard her say, thanking him for his good ear, and turning to the dragon. "If I give you what you want, will you leave my land immediately?"
"That depends on the situation. Do you have any other tasks for me?" Winkle asked, eager to get more gold.
"No, no, we haven't," said the Marchioness hastily.
"And if you have a bishop at your disposal, His Majesty has a theological question!" Victor added. "Important issues!"
"Good idea, minion," Winkle said.
"Our priest is away on a diplomatic mission." The Marchioness turned to whisper to the knight. "Tell our cooks to prepare a feast for King Winkle. A 'troublesome guest' kind, with special ingredients."
"I would tell the chef to put in the maximum dose," Knight added.
"We will provide you with a feast and reward you for your noble behavior!" the Marchioness said to Wacker. "I hope you can forgive us for our rudeness!"
"Unless your cow is very good!" Vai
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replied.
"You will find it very delicate," replied the Catkin noble in a strange tone, and departed with her knight.
"She is..." Victor struggled to say. "Damn, she's a catkin. I thought she was going to be hot."
"Not as sexy as me," Fankle said, rolling his eyes at his chief of staff's innocent look. "You're so easily impressed, slave. My breath shines brighter than the sun. You've seen it. Of course, she's tepid in comparison."
"Yeah, at least most of the employees are humans. I wonder if any of the palace ladies are single."
"Of course they are not 'single'. Your noble ladies are rare in the wild, but they are not as good as princesses." Obviously, Winkle must complete the education of this poor slave.
As the sun began to set, unarmored men emerged from the castle and brought Winkel fattened, cooked sheep, pigs, and cows in carriages. A fat man wearing brighter and cleaner clothes than the servants walked in front, carrying a wallet and sweating profusely. "Minion, is that part of the party?" Winkle asked Victor.
"I'm not sure, Your Majesty..."
"No, no," the fat man was sweating profusely. "I am Gilbert, Count of Provence."
"Ah, is that the person who sent the troll request?" Fankel raised his head. The wallet must contain his reward.
"Yes, yes, I asked the Marquise to help me drive them away, and then... Your Majesty solved the problem." The Earl looked at the smoke rising on the horizon and took a breath. "You are very enthusiastic..."
"I take my duties as an adventurer seriously," agreed Winkle, who swallowed a cow and spit out some of the meat stuck between his fangs. "You can eat the leftovers, minion. Don't ever say that Vaquier lets his employees starve."
The servant looked at the banquet, then at the count, and saw that his forehead was covered with sweat. "No, no, I cannot share in His Majesty's supper," Victor replied. "It's all yours."
Really conscientious. Why should Fankle worry about the goblin? "Are you here to deliver my paper?"
"And the Marquise's apology gift," said a sweaty Manling. "She said it was my duty as her vassal."
"Really, you're such a good servant," Winkle said, eating the sheep smeared with the strange sauce. "Victor, count the coins. Don't you dare steal them!"
"Oh, I don't mind at all, Your Majesty." Victor replied, took the wallet, and did as asked.
Congratulations! By swallowing the poison in your food like a champ, you earned the [Low Poison Immunity] perk!
"Poison? What is this? The opening seasoning?" The count smiled slightly, but strangely, the smile did not reach his ears. He was sweating profusely, and Winkel didn't know if he would die on the spot because of this. Is he sick?
"Yes, Your Majesty," said the slave Victor. "It's a very bitter spice for special occasions."
"I don't feel the smell, bring more!" Winkle complained, and the earl hurried to the castle to tend to his needs.
Maybe he'll get a stronger Pe by the end of the party
k?
