When the bacon was finished, a few of the mercenaries said, "It's time to train a little, let's practice the sword today." ”

"Sword?" They grinned. "It's best to practice swords."

The ship's combat suit, heavy trousers, tight tunics, and a set of old iron armor with dents, their chain mail and cooked leather armor, both of them wearing helmets and blunt swords from their weapon cases, they fought on the back deck, and the rest of the morning, in the microcosm of everyone, striking each other with great force.

When they began to fight with maces and long blunt axes, one side's body and strength quickly overwhelmed the other, and even more so with the sword, neither of them used a shield on this day, so it was a game of slashing and dodging in front of and behind the deck, the river should be in tune with the beat of their fighting, after a while, the big man began to get tired, his slash became a little sluggish, and his attack became weaker, the other side began to counterattack and launched a furious attack to force them to retreat, and when they retreated to the stern, the boy wrung their blades and slammed them with his shoulders, So the big guy fell into the river.

He became so angry that he cursed, yelling at the turtles to catch him before they could bite him off, and Bamcris threw a rope at him. "It's better to swim." As he spoke, he and the others dragged the man back to the deck.

As the island grew farther and farther away, Bamcris saw the rows of ruins on the east shore: ruined towers, leaky domes and rotting wooden pillars, streets clogged with mud and luxuriant purple moss, another dead city where turtles had settled, large bony turtles that Bamcris recognized as reflecting the light from the brown-black knolls that looked down in the middle of their dorsal carapaces in the sun, and which were not a good place to swim.

Then, passing through the half-submerged trees on the shore and the wide, damp streets, he caught a glimpse of the sun shining on the water, and there was a river that flowed straight into it, and as the land between the two rivers narrowed, the ruins grew taller and taller, until the whole city reached the end, where there were the remains of a huge palace made of pink and green marble, its crumbling dome and broken spire protruding eerily above a row of overheaded arches, and Bam Criss saw more bone turtles sleeping on the dock where several large ships had once stayed.

Bam Criss noticed a ripple six yards from the ship, and when it came to the surface and struck the side of the water, it was another tortoise, a horny giant tortoise, its dark green shell covered with brown lush moss and black brittle shell mollusks, it raised its head and let out a roar, its low and monotonous roar louder than Bam Criss had ever heard of a battle horn.

"We are blessed," the mercenary cried out with tears streaming down his face, "we are blessed, we are blessed." ”

The other mercenaries came to the deck to inquire about the commotion...... But it was too late, and the giant turtle disappeared once again under the water.

"What caused the loud noise?"

"A turtle." Bam Criss said. "A turtle bigger than this boat."

"That's it!" They screamed. "The river god of this river."

Why not? Bam Criss smiled, there are always gods and miracles in this world.

The ship cut through the fog like a blind man searching for a way in a strange building, the fog masking some of the sounds that sounded small and quiet, and they paced the deck, their armor clashing lightly under his wolfskin cloak, and now and then he touched his sword as if to make sure it was still hanging from his waist, while the crew pushed the starboard pole and took the helm.

"I really don't like this place." The steward said.

"You're afraid of a little fog?" Bamcris scoffed, as a traveler he has gradually adapted to it, but in fact it was a big fog, and it was necessary to push the people who were groping in the fog out of danger, the bow and stern were lit with lanterns, but the fog was so thick that Bamcris standing in the middle of the ship could only faintly see a little light floating in front and a little light following behind, and his task was to take care of the brazier to make sure it would not go out.

"This is no ordinary fog." "It contains black magic, you can smell it if you have a nose, and many voyagers are lost here, punts and pirates, great ships alike, wandering helplessly in the mist, searching for the sun that will never appear until madness and hunger put an end to them, and their souls of anguish that cannot rest are in the air and in the water." ”

"Now it's here again." On the starboard side, a huge hand large enough to crush the piercing body reached out from the depths of the turbid waves, Bamkris said. Only two of its fingers were out of the water, but slowly drifting past the boat next to it, you could still see the rest of the hand twisted underwater, and then a huge pale face stared, but Bamkrist's tone was not pleasant and he was not very comfortable, this was an ominous place, it was a place of death and despair, this fog was by no means natural, some souls grew in the water, corrupted in the air, and it was not surprising if there was a birth of dark magic......

"I won't eat the fish of the river," said the mercenary, "never." ”

"That's enough." The steward said, "Be quiet, all of you! ”

The fog enveloped them, damp and cold, and as the diagonal pennies slowly paddled from bow to stern, a half-submerged temple loomed in the gloom, and they passed the marble steps that spiraled up from the mud, which were crudely broken in the air, and other things were of different shapes: shattered identifications, headless sculptures, trees whose canopies knew were bigger than their ships.

As far as Bamkris could see, there was an ominous giant rising from the river, and he thought it was a hill hidden on a tree-covered island, or a boulder covered with moss and ferns hidden by the fog, but as the ship approached, its shape became clearer, and a rotting overgrown wooden fence could be seen at the water's edge, with an elongated spire, some broken like broken spears. The roofless tower is constantly appearing and hiding, blindly reaching into the sky. The halls and corridors drift by: graceful buttresses, elaborate vaults, grooved columns, platforms and pergolas.

All were destroyed, corrupted, and collapsed.

The gray moss here had become thick, piled high on top of the collapsed rubble, almost shouting at the towers, black vines had crawled all over the windows, doors and arches, and had climbed up the sides of the stone walls, and the fog had hidden three-quarters of it, but they had seen enough. it

"In another hour we should have a clear view of the road ahead." The steward said. "The Pirate King Hissok is not far from us."

"There's light ahead." Mercenary warning.

Bam Criss saw it too, a flat-bottomed boat, he told himself, but he knew it wasn't true. His nose itched again, and he scratched at it hard, and as he approached the light source grew brighter and brighter, like a soft distant star twinkling in the mist, summoning them, and then it became two light sources, then three: a row of tattered lighthouses from the water.

In front of them, the bridge grew larger, the pale stone arch crossed the fog and landed on the west bank of the river, covered it with heavy gray moss, and black, thick black vines serpentine from the water wrapped around the arches, their weight crushing it, the bridge was half-collapsed, the wooden chassis of the arch was rotting to the point of holes, but some of the lights were still on.

At this time, the boat was going down the bridge, and only the light from the stern was fading away, and it would not be long before it disappeared completely.

On the port side of the ship, a huge stone hand looms under the water, with two fingers sticking out of the water. How many more of these things are there? As he looked through the fog, he caught a glimpse of a broken spire, a headless hero, a fallen ancient tree pulled out of the earth, its sturdy roots coiled around the roof and the windows of a broken-domed building. How does it all seem so familiar?

Finally...... They traveled through it as if they had arrived at a new territory, the territory of another pirate king......

As they walked along the river, dusk was gradually replaced by night, and they passed by some of the gangplanks that looked abandoned, dangling to the land, and the other boats were warily watching their armed men, and beneath the town walls, sheepskin lanterns hung over the fence and cast patches of colored lights on the gravel paths, and Bamcris watched the steward's face turn from green to red and then purple, and in the harsh language he heard strange music playing somewhere ahead, and they were followed by a barking dog.

Several of the guards guarded the gates leading to the river, the light of the torch flickering indistinctly on their vajra claws protruding from their gauntlets. They wore masks and helmets, and their cheeks were tattooed with stripes as a mark, and Bamcris knew that the pirate king's men were mercenaries in addition to pirates, and they longed for freedom? If King Dubrovnik had given them freedom, he wondered, what would they do?

One of the guards saw it, and when they reached the gate, he pulled up his clawed gauntlets and sweaty gloves inside, and pointed one arm at them for identification.

Another guard waved his torch through the gate and gestured to them, and the steward led them into the pirate king's territory, Bamcris cautiously following at his feet.

An open square spread out in front of them, and even at this late hour it was still crowded and noisy, and there were flickering lanterns hanging from the gates of the courtyard with iron chains, but inside the doors were glass, not lanterns, and the fire was blazing at night outside the redstone temple on their right.

A blood-red priest shouted to some of the people sitting around the fire, a woman whipping a mule outside the stable, a two-wheeled carriage squeaking past them, it was another world, Bamkris thought, but it wasn't much different from the one I knew, but it was just the world of the Pirate King......

"If the red-robed monks had a little brain, they would take care of their tongues." "A confrontation has broken out between their followers and those who believe in other gods," said the steward. ”

"If it were me, I would have been able to make such a prophecy."

Outside the square, the night fire was still burning, but the priest was no longer there, so the crowd dispersed. The room with the flickering flames of red candles shining through the window, bursts of women's laughter came from inside.

When they arrived, the sky was purple in the west and pitch black in the east, and the stars were gradually beginning to twinkle, just like in Chris's territory, Bamkris recalled.

The gates were closed at nightfall, and the guards guarding the north gate muttered impatiently to the wanderers who came and went. They followed behind a wagon laden with limes and oranges, and the guards waved torches for the carriage to pass.

From the far end of the long bridge, you can walk through here for a while, "How far is it?" Bam Chris asked.

"It's almost there." The steward said. "But it's so late, let's rest for the night first, and we'll see you tomorrow."

They entered an inn, an inn on the pirate king's territory.

The upstairs rooms were very small, especially the cheap ones on the fourth floor, and in the corner below the sloping roof of the inn, the captor's chosen bedroom had low ceilings, foul-smelling collapsed feather beds, and sloping wooden floors, at least the room had walls, and windows, which were the main views of the room, and next to them were iron rings embedded in the wall so that they could be used to tie slaves.

The room was dull, so they opened the windows to ventilate and could barely see a corner under the eaves of the building, and this room was lucky to have two windows. One has a view of the long bridge and the heart of the other side of the river, and the other has a view of the square below.

Even now, the square is still crowded, with pirate sailors and mercenaries clamoring, and prostitutes looking for travelers to talk about business......

The public hall is a dimly lit labyrinth of cubicles, and in the central courtyard that surrounds it, a lattice of flowering vines casts dappled shadows on the stone floor, green and purple moss grows in the cracks of the stone, and slave girls weave between light and shadow, bringing pale ales, wines, and some cold green drinks that smell of mint.

After that, they fell asleep one after another......

At this time of the morning, twenty people were crowded at a table, one of whom was a dwarf, with clean pink cheeks, a chestnut mop head, a furrowed brow, and a flattened nose. He was sitting in a high chair with a wooden spoon in his hand, and his red, swollen eyes were staring thoughtfully at a bowl of purple rice porridge, ugly little bastard, Bamkris thought to himself.

The other gnome sensed his gaze and his spoon slipped from his hand when he looked up to see Bamkris.

The steward chose a table in a quiet corner, asked for food and drink, and they ate soft sliced bread, pink roe, honey sausages, fried locusts, and half-sugar dark beer.

"You've had a good appetite this morning, too." Bamkris said, eating too.