Mages Are Too OP

Death threats to a player are the most ridiculous and arrogant thing Roland has ever seen.

Roland's smile, in the dark, in the rendering of the moonlight, seemed somewhat mysterious. Little Edward sees this scene, and an unknown sense of worship spreads from his heart.

Unlike his silly brother, little Edward was smart enough to see many details that no one else could see, such as... The day before my brother went to hold the girl, he was always optimistic that he actually had a gloomy look.

And there were fifty more gold coins in the storage room at home.

Combined with the news he's been hearing the last two days, what he's seen, he's made one thing clear.

My own brother backs the pot for someone else.

Such things are common in the aristocracy and are the default rule.

When someone does something wrong and is pursued by someone with the same ‘strength', if they really fight, they will only be hurt twice, and then they will be picked up cheap by other jackals watching the play beside them. At this time, he can throw a person who is a little worse than himself to blame for the mistake, and then die and resent himself. If the investigator also has the idea of stopping the damage in time, then everyone will very tacitly stop talking about the previous things.

After laughing, Roland looked at the young man, who was otherwise green, but had a mature manhood, and said, "I know your brother is a scapegoat, and we weren't going to kill him or even try to save him. It's just that he was so resolute that he killed himself. We do have a little responsibility for this, but we won't apologize. ”

“I understand. ”

Little Edward knew very well that this had nothing to do with the Sons of Gold.

While the ‘notoriety’ of the Sons of Gold in the aristocratic classes is very irritating to them for ignoring the glory and privileges of the nobility, they also have to admit that these Sons of Gold are all professionals of the impartial and virtuous camp.

Now the five golden sons of the city have been in Derbonne for two or three months, but they have never bullied anyone for no reason, let alone done anything evil, not even a prank.

All they did was kill a heart-eating nobleman, save a young slut girl at a great price, and now find a way for the beggars to live, doing only three things.

Everything is good.

The Golden Sons are good, both from the point of departure and as a result of things, the only thing unfortunate is their brother.

It was treated as a sacrifice for both sides to fight.

“I was wondering, did your brother do anything unusual these past two days, or have you seen anyone special? ”

Little Edward shook his head: "No, Big Brother never liked to tell us that he didn't want to put too much pressure on us. If you have to say it, he runs harder and faster. ”

Roland throws another question he's been having for a long time: "Are your parents? ”

“Died long ago.” Little Edward's voice went low: “It's been the big brother who's been taking care of us. After we were merely businessmen, the so-called aristocracy was merely quasi-accompanying, with only fictitious names and no real power. ”

There are only two things that really work for nobility: territory, even small pieces of land.

The right to recruit, depending on the title, and the maximum number of troops that can be recruited differ, once they reach the count, there is no limit on the number of troops.

As for any other right to use the crest, the right to tax exemption, etc., it's just a small thing.

The so-called quasi-aristocracy is usually the title a businessman receives after donating large quantities of gold coins.

Roland sighed, presumably using two teenagers as a chip behind the scenes, approaching their brother to back up the pot, and of course, giving him enough reward.

Fifty gold coins... that's a lot of money.

“Well, if you don't know anything, why are you letting me sneak in?” Roland asked somewhat uncomfortably.

“I don't know anything, but there's something I want to give you.” Little Edie took a small plaque of wood out of her clothes, about the size of a palm: “This is what my brother left on his desk, and I think it might be useful for you. ”

Roland picked up the plaque and found it to be tough with a light blue surface, a white cloud-like logo engraved on the front and a black, very regular black screw thread on the back.

After a few glances, Roland put the plaque in the system backpack.

Then he put a few drawings on the table: "Here's some magic for me, take it yourself. ”

“Magic? Can I do it?” Little Edward looked at the drawings, some heartbeat, but more unconfidential.

Roland had just discovered that little Edward was very active, just a little worse than Vivian.

Now that Vivian is proficient in using the magician's hand, and is able to convert the magic hand into a spell gun, Edward Jr.

Of course... Roland wouldn't teach him, after all, if he had too much contact with himself, most of the messengers behind the scenes would have been bad for little Edward.

“Try it, I won't charge you anyway. Failure doesn't hurt either. Zero level tricks don't kill people. ”

After leaving this sentence, Roland left.

Little Edward looked quietly at the drawings on the table, and then he wiped his tears, and when he was about to put them away, the door opened again, and a teenager, slightly younger than him, rubbed his eyes and walked in.

“Brother Er, you're here. You scared me. I thought you didn't want me, so I left myself.” The teenager had a palpitated expression on his face.

“Don't worry, our fraternity has been together.” Edward took a look at his brother, looked at the drawings on the desktop, and made up his mind.

Roland whispered back to the Tower and switched back to his magic robe.

And then Vivian walked in, and she had a little dark circle, and she saw Roland, while serving pastries and fruit drinks, said, "Thank you, Vice President, for your breakfast. ”

Breakfast? It's 2: 00 or 3: 00 in the morning at best.

But Roland touched his stomach, and he was hungry, too.

And laughed and thanked Vivian.

Vivian walked out of Roland's study and immediately smiled.

The vice president doesn't smell like a woman, nor does he look very tired, which means he didn't do anything bad.

Very good, very good!

Vivian thinks she can get some sleep later.

After eating pastry, Roland continues to derive the derivative power of the spell puppet.

The 'memory’ of the spell model is limited, and he has to calculate how to allocate the attributes of the spell puppet using the limited ‘memory’ to ensure the best value for money.

This deduction, a few more hours later, then playtime stopped again.

He climbed out of the game compartment, turned on his computer, entered the game's official homepage, and saw the game update announcement.