Vincent stood up slowly, touched the dwarf boy's head, and then carefully put the candy in

  his pocket. He leaned on the railing and looked at his grimoire, which was lying on the ground

  several dozen meters below. Several dwarfs were pointing around the book, probably

  discussing the reason for its flight and the science it contained.

  "What's the matter with you, Mr. Mage?" Charlotte's voice spoke next to Vincent's. "What's

  going on? You are not quite well yet."

  Charlotte was followed by a crowd of dwarfs, young and old. They looked with friendly eyes

  at the one-armed mage. An old man with exaggerated platform eyes came up to Vincent and

  said, "Hello, young man, I am the president of the Presbyterian Church of the city of Spider's

  Den. My name is Rhonda Garrick. My full name is too long, and the tall people I know on the

  ground don't have the patience to remember my full name, so I don't think I need to keep

  you any longer. After all, timing is everything."

  He straightened the large frame on the bridge of his nose. "If I read you correctly, you are a

  member of the Society of Mages, and from the class of the pattern, you are a mage

  apprentice." He paused. "But I see something extraordinary and powerful in you."

  "Sir, your wisdom and experience have certainly given you a pair of discerning eyes. My name

  is Vincent, a magical apprentice of the Mages' Society. Thank you again for all the help you

  and your friends gave me during my injury."

  "It was nothing. It was what we were supposed to do. But I have a few questions I want to ask

  you. I hope you can shed some light on them."

  "Yes, at your service." Vincent adjusts his robe, looks again at the boy named Toby, nods to

  him, and turns to leave.

  Vincent followed the elder to the gnome's council hall. He sat down on a wide stool specially

  prepared for him. Facing the 11 Gnome elders, he began to tell what had happened some

  time before he arrived in the Gnome city.

  The gnomes lived underground and were more concerned with engineering than with the

  troubles and troubles above. In addition, harmless pranks are an integral part of their lives.

  They love jokes as much as they love complex machines, and the funnier the prank, the more

  intelligent they think it is. They are a happy-go-lucky race, living independently and freely of

  all races, but having more dealings with dwarves, whose open-minded and enthusiastic

  nature is particularly fond of their jokes and pranks. Only a few dwarves live on the surface,

  and most of them are skilled stonemasons, alchemists, or famous minstrels, or become

  explorers. They are loved by most of the races.

  But they have enemies, too. They tend to have great collections of precious stones, and some

  pretty outlandish inventions. In addition, they also featured the "shining stone", a special gem

  used on the mainland to tell time. These items, combined with a culture that does not naturally

  like fighting, attract many evil prying eyes. But heaven be fair, they had the most inventive

  minds and deft hands on the continent. They protect their home with all kinds of devices,

  traps, and disguises. Without a dwarf to guide them, it would normally be impossible to find

  the way to their city.

  They live in semi-isolation right on the continent of Blasares. Free, independent and full of

  fun.

  But they are not people who don't care about what happens in the rest of the world. Gnomes

  are not as curious as halflings, but they have a great interest in the latest research and

  inventions and novel tools from all over the world. They have a good relationship with the

  Mages' Guild, as both are creative groups. So, thanks to this, Vincent became a good friend

  of theirs here.

  The dwarf elders listened quietly as the Master told of the battle of Moonport, the southern

  invasion of the Giants, and the possible defeat of the Holy Greafury. The Dwarves and elves

  had their own plans of defense. The humans were relatively alone.

  Vincent knew full well that the Dwarves would not fight this battle, no matter what he said. It

  is in their nature to stay away from any kind of fight. And in the mind of the mage, whatever

  the giants wreaked upon Holy Greafury was essentially none of his business. The Mages' Guild

  is absolutely capable of surviving any attack, and he doesn't have to worry about the dangers

  facing the Academy. The only reason he was so concerned about the war was because his

  best friend was involved.

  "I do not know about giants, but this is also in the mountains of the north, where giants may

  pass by. You had better be prepared for that possibility. After all, good preparation is never

  a bad thing." Vincent ended his speech with this kind piece of advice.

  The Pygmy Presbyterian Church fell silent. The clouds of war had not been so close to it for

  hundreds of years; It had been a long, long time since the word war had been spoken to their

  own people. 'Thank you for your advice and advice, Mr Vincent. You will be a distinguished

  guest of the Mages' Society here, and we warmly welcome you. Make yourself at home here.

  It's an honor to host a mage."

  "Thank you very much." Vincent heard the dwarf call himself a mage, but he did not know

  what to say. He remembered how strange he had been reading his grimoire this morning. His

  head was still full of all that he knew about magical releases, astrology, principles of magic,

  pharmacology, spell interpretation, boundary science, the study of otherworldly beings, even

  the most complicated studies of superdemons; Little by little, these things were still stored up

  in Vincent's memory. And he doesn't have any trouble reading his grimoire. The spells are still

  fresh in his mind.

  However, he could not feel the presence of any magical energy. Rather, he was completely

  disconnected from the network of magical energies that the magic gods had built.

  Not only was he unable to remember new spells, but he was also unable to invoke the ones

  he had left unused after his battle with Thomas.

  Vincent then closed his eyes to find the cause of this problem and recalled a piece of

  information that had been buried deep in his memory. At that time, his mentor had said a

  passage. Long ago, when Castle had just taken him into his apprenticeship, he had said, "Son,

  never underestimate these magicians. Some of them, as far as I know, have acquired the

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  ability to completely seal off a mage's connection to magic. It will certainly come at a huge

  cost, but watch out for them. Always be in awe and humble. That is your guarantee of long

  life."

  Vincent remembered this passage at that time, and in the following years, he tried to find the

  source of this sentence, searching for various classics but failed to find it. And when he asked

  Master Castle about it, the old Prophet firmly denied that he had ever said it.

  Vincent thought that Mentor Castle was trying to establish his authority at the beginning, and

  that he was trying to fool him with a false story. But as time passed, this little deception was

  forgotten by the Great Seer. From then on, Vincent himself did not pay any more attention

  to the matter.

  But now, he has tasted the bitter consequences. I didn't know Thomas had the power.

  Vincent has lost contact with the Magic network.

  A long period of hard work, hard study and countless experiences on the brink of life and

  death have made Vincent who he is and his magical abilities. The cover and help given by his

  teammates in every adventure, and the blood and tears paid by his relatives for Vincent to

  have the opportunity to learn magic have made him, and Vincent's rating of up to 14 has

  made him. But at this point, everything becomes empty. A mage without magic, and an

  adventurer without an arm, is basically a person without meaning to live.

  Vincent had a moment when he wanted to follow his grimoire and fly off a high platform.

  However, there is still a way to go, and everyone has his own destiny. No matter whether you

  think the present is good or bad, you have only two choices: either use death to get rid of the

  current fate, or face the fate bravely.

  Who knows the next second, the goddess of luck will smile at you, your efforts and persistence

  in exchange for a new beginning, a new world?

  So, Vincent is alive now, sitting in the gnomes' council chamber, talking to a few elders.

  "Now, Master, we have a kindly request." Hamilton - Garrick changed to another pair of thick

  glasses, watching Vincent slowly speaking. His voice was full of expectation.

  "Charlotte said you were willing to give us Mithril for research and invention. Is that true?"

  The old dwarf's voice trembled a little.

  "Yes, old man. You are right. But I have one small request, "Vincent thought." I am injured and

  have no arm. Can I live in this city for the rest of my life?"

  Hamilton was visibly relieved; he had expected the Master to make some tough demands.

  The mithril was worth as much as the entire value of some small southern states, and would

  have been too cheap for the mere right to live there. Moreover, the old dwarf looked at the

  young man in front of him and felt that he was a fine fellow, with a gentle disposition and

  temper, and a good manners towards others. Most important of all, the sorcerer should have

  extraordinary abilities, and living in Dwarf City would greatly improve the level of knowledge

  there. Why not?

  If a human heard of such an offer, he would jump at it. Who wouldn't want such a bargain?

  But the culture of the dwarfs has long taught them to deal fairly, to exchange value for value.

  Even though the other party offered to dispose of the mithril ore almost for free, the gnomes

  felt guilty about receiving it.

  What can be done to compensate this mage? Hamilton frowned and began counting the

  goodies in his head. He first thought of various scrolls of magic, but then he realized that

  these things would seem valuable to dwarves or other races with weak magic, but to Vincent,

  who came from the Mages' Society, they would not be so rare that he could not sell them.

  What about the magical inventions made by gnomes? Hamilton thought about it and shook

  his head. Although many of the inventions here were very well conceived, they were always

  very unstable with some glitch or other. It was tragic enough that the young man had already

  lost an arm, but it would have been rude for the Master to get hurt by something that went

  wrong with his treasured possessions.

  "That's right, the arm! Hamilton thought of Vincent's broken arm and jumped out of his chair

  with an "aha!" look.

  The other Presbyterians, who were also frowning over what to give the master in return, were

  startled to hear Hamilton's words. They all stared at the old man as he jumped onto his chair.

  "I wonder, don't we have a metal arm here from a long time ago?" Hamilton looked at the

  others blankly. "Don't you know? The same metal arm that was unearthed when the city was

  built."

  The others shook their heads with a "Don't ask me, I know nothing" look.

  Hamilton coughs twice. "When our ancestors built this city, they dug up some very strange

  pieces. Among the objects of unknown origin was an enormous arm made of pure gold --

  rather large for us, in fact, as large as your human arm -- a complete left arm with some

  magical runes on it. Unable to decipher the writing, we left it alone. The arm ended up

  somewhere in a museum warehouse, and no one cared about it anymore. I was looking at

  some materials two or three years ago when I came across this entry. I thought it would be

  OK to use that arm to make you a prosthetic leg. You know, we really don't have anything

  here that can match the precious metal you sent us, but this arm made of pure gold is a little

  bit rarer. You must accept this gift."

  Vincent thought about it. It didn't matter. It would just be a fake arm. And the dwarf would

  have been ashamed to accept the mithril if he had declined the offer.

  "Thank you very much. I accept your gift. ' 'said the mage.

  The dwarf elders were visibly relieved.

  "That's good," Hamilton said. "I'll get someone to retrieve the object from the museum

  warehouse. Also, today I'm sending for the best priest here, whose healing spell will make the

  installation of the arm a little easier. By the way, you can call in the old blacksmith who lives

  on the bottom deck, "Stick", and have him do a good job of fixing the arm, which will make

  the metal arm fit better. By the way, I remember old Wooden Pier has some nice mechanical

  hangings. Just get one for him. He can only decorate the walls if he stays at home. Yes, and..."

  Vincent could only smile helplessly and gratefully at the gnomes' enthusiasm.