Orc Tyrant

Niels Yule waited quietly until the footsteps of the attendants passed through the tiled platform.

He spent a long time looking at the letter in his hand, then put it in his pocket.

Niels slowly took a breath, savoring the taste of Thrall City under the dimming light.

The smell of dust and sea breeze pounced on his mouth and nose. He likes this time of night, the heat of the day and the coolness brought by the growing shadows rub against each other, the smell of water and the warm paving stones bring a layer of dust and chaos Smoke rises from the roof of the city, as if the entire city itself is breathing.

He took another breath slowly, allowing himself to stop for a moment.

The sky seems to be a cobalt blue dome, the edge of which is decorated with golden pink by the setting sun. The city descends along irregular levels from the edge of the balcony, and the valley-like streets slide down until the flat coast and delta. On the ground, the rock roof gives way to a port that extends all the way to the sea.

Most of the cities are flat-roofed buildings, but it is the tall towers that really catch the eye.

There are hundreds of tall towers in the city. Some of them are small and have been weathered for many years, while others pierce the sky. All of these are made of stone, but these stones have thousands of textures and colors.

The black Eyre lighthouse was shining, and Skirata looked like a spiral bony horn.

Niels showed a smile, just a moment, a smile that only someone who has everything he saw would have.

Thrall City-a treasure in the deserted sea, his hometown.

He leaned against the stone guardrail and looked at his hands.

The skin looks a little aging, how does this happen? How did so much time and responsibility be imposed on him?

He raised his hands and stroked the soft skin on his face and the graying hair.

This is a habitual posture, imitating the action of splashing water on his face after a day of exhaustion. His daughters learned this action almost before they learned to speak. The memories of them smiling and imitating his actions brought smiles to their faces. Turned his face back.

The wind rose, and the smile faded.

He turned to leave the guardrail and took out his pocket watch from his pocket as he stepped down the stairs leading to the street below. The clothes he was wearing were far worse than those he usually wore.

Those who know him will be shocked by his wearing a worn gown that is popular among the working class.

But he actually likes simple clothes. They are comfortable, and he enjoys the trembling of being anonymous when walking through the streets of Thrall under the gradual night.

People passed by him, some people raised their hands to greet him and whispered good luck to him, but no one looked at him too much.

He looked like another man walking home at the end of the day, with nothing but food and the promise of sleep in his brain, or a destitute retired sailor.

He grew up in these streets, he used to run on the roofs and climb the plant frames that crossed the walls of ancient buildings.

He was not poor at that time, but wealth and glory were still a distant future for him at that time. Life at that time was not always pleasant, but it was simpler.

He missed the simplicity, he missed the clarity.

So he likes to go back to those streets, the comfort of stepping on ancient stones, the smell of cooked meat and hops softened the stench of the dirty sewer.

What he enjoys most is that people look at him, or simply ignore him. He is not surrounded by guards, he is not dressed in tailored fabrics, and he does not follow him.

He likes to have a short period of time, not being Niels Yul, the admiral of the Republic, and the commander of the First Fleet.

People have begun to say that this country is slowly dying.

As he walked through the deeper and deeper shadows, he was thinking about it. After losing a large area of ​​Essex, the country might regress to what his grandfather had in his days: an insignificant, impoverished colony.

This process may take a hundred years, but it will definitely happen. He should be dead by then, but his daughters may still be there.

The twin girls were only in their teens at this time, smiling and carefree.

They need a future.

A shout interrupted his thoughts, he stopped, and the shout came again, clear and sharp.

He could hear footsteps coming from a corner a few steps ahead.

Niels ran over without even thinking about it.

He drew his sword while rushing to the corner.

The leather-wrapped hilt of this sword is very suitable for grasping. He still remembers how his grandfather gave this sword to himself with a smile. It is a curved double-edged sword. It is said that sailors used to bring this sword when they left port. With such a sword.

Niels turned the corner. The street in front of him was very narrow, and the buildings were pressed on both sides to suppress the light above.

There are two people there, one is muscular, the other is thin and tall.

The third person is curled up on the ground. In dim light, these people appear to have only vague outlines.

One of them kicked someone on the ground and cut through the sky again with a cry.

"Give us the money, old man."

The thin man yelled, and Niels stood still three steps away, then the big man turned around and he saw a wide face with one eye shining, staring at him.

The big man opened his mouth and yelled, moving his knife forward.

"If you want to know what a person is like, look at his weapons."

Niels remembers his grandfather once said:

"There is true meaning in the sword."

"Don't be nosy!"

The big man swung a sharp knife, the blade reflecting twilight.

Niels leaned forward and drew his sword across the man's thigh. The big man was chopped off and screamed. He stepped forward and chopped his elbow on his sword arm.

"what!"

The man's weapon was chopped off his hand, and blood ran down his slack arm.

He turned to look at his accomplice, but the thin man was already running away, and Niels took a step back and stared at his opponent.

The man hesitated, Niels slowly raised his sword and shook his opponent with a reflection. The man immediately nodded and limped away, leaving a blood stain on the stone street. .

Niels watched him run away, then wiped his sword into its sheath.

He looked at the man on the ground, looking up at him with a dirty face when he bent over. It was an old man with dusty wrinkles and gray beard and hair.

"Can you still stand up?"

Niels asked, and the old man took a breath and nodded.

"Thank you, it's really respectable."

Niels could tell from his tone that the old man was very old and had no teeth in his mouth, but these words almost made him smile.

He noticed the gray creased cloth on the old man's clothes, broken, faded, with sweat and dust. This man was a countryman from an underdeveloped area.

"Did they take anything?"

Niels helped him stand up.

"No no."

The old man steadied his body by Niels, and took a trembling breath.

"The Holy Father smiles because of your kindness."

"Come."

Niels took a handful of coins from his pocket and handed them over.

"no no."

The old man shook his head and pushed Niels' hand away.

"I can't benefit from your kindness twice."

Niels held out his hand again, but the old man shook his head and walked away.

"You have given me enough, and luck will fall to you."

The old man dragged one foot away, and Niels stepped forward to help him, but the old man shook his head again.

Niels felt that the old man wanted to leave this quiet street. He looked around, it was almost dark, and he needed to leave this street by himself.

"I know where I am going."

The old man smiled at him and nodded.

"It's not far away."

Niels nodded, trying to say something, but the man had already turned the corner.

He stayed there for a while, feeling that something was wrong, he turned around and walked a few steps in the street, unconsciously reaching into his pocket.

He was stunned.

The pocket is empty and the letter is gone.

He suddenly got cold all over, he checked his other pockets, and then looked for them in the street.

Nothing at all.

He started to run in the direction where the old man left, his veins filled with coldness and panic.

Turning the corner, the wide street stretches into the darkness, silent and empty except for the debris of trash flying in the air.

"You have given me enough."

What the old man said just now, Niels took another step, thinking about whether to run across this street to find the old man.

He stopped, knowing that he would never find the old thief. The hazy alleys of Thrall City could disappear without a trace within a few steps, and that person had a dozen different escape routes to choose from.

He took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his thoughts and pulse.

He must--

A flash of light in the sky suddenly whitened the street, and Niels raised his hand to cover his eyes, and for a moment he could see the blood vessels in his eyelids.

He looked up and saw that the stars were falling, bursting into sparks, rolling across the night sky.

Fireworks.

He thought of an unplanned celebration, or a meteor shower...

The siren began to scream, starting from a distance, one after another, until the high-pitched chorus echoed everywhere.

He could see that the doors and windows were opened and people were looking out.

Deep in his heart, possibility and fear were combined, and he thought of his daughters, who were staying in a mansion on the other side of the city.

People are now rushing into the street and pouring out from the door. Most of them were dumbfounded after they came out, their eyes fixed on the sky, they opened their mouths and shouted, but the shouts were drowned out by the howls of police sirens.

Niels began to move, first slowly a few steps, then strode forward, pushing the crowd away, and then he ran.

Above him, tears of fire were shed in the sky.