Kyle subconsciously replied, "Yes, sir, we all went to school."
"I—I majored in Cleric and History."
His voice was a bit lower, seemingly a little embarrassed to mention his past as a Cleric apprentice.
"Cleric," the Black Dragonborn repeated, his smile widening. "That's right."
"Almost no Dragonborn would actively choose a bard as their main profession or life goal."
"Our talents and societal inclinations lean more towards warriors, Paladins, artisans, or management."
His tone was natural, as if he had a deep understanding of the Dragonborn race.
"You chose a path that you are not skilled in, and one for which you lack sufficient accumulation."
"Merely for a distant goal. Your courage is commendable, but your strategy—needs refinement."
The Black Dragonborn concluded straightforwardly.
He carefully chose his words, not making Kyle feel belittled, but rather like a basin of benevolent water, sobering his somewhat fevered mind.
However, the heavy truth still made Kyle feel a bit dejected.
The dream of traveling the world had not extinguished, but the mists leading to it seemed to have grown thicker.
He was indeed unprepared, both with his lack of experience and his empty money pouch.
A sense of powerlessness enveloped him like a haze.
"Sir," Kyle's voice held a trace of confusion, "You are right. Should I—should I give up this unrealistic idea for now?"
"Go back to Borean Tundra, or find a job in Dekonor, diligently save some money, and listen to more stories from the outside, then set off when fully prepared?"
This thought made him feel disheartened; he had just seen a glimmer of change, only to have to retreat to his familiar routine.
Hearing his words, the mysterious Black Dragonborn's lips curved even more noticeably.
It wasn't mockery, but a look of satisfaction, as if a long-awaited fish had finally taken the bait.
"Yes, and no, young Kyle."
His voice remained steady but took on a guiding tone, "Waiting and accumulating are certainly important, but time waits for no one, and the world's appearance is constantly changing."
"What you need is not to stop completely, but to walk in a different way."
He leaned forward slightly, and the accompanying pressure made Kyle involuntarily focus all his attention.
"Experience can be accumulated while traveling. And what you need is just a starting opportunity."
"As well as a sum of initial capital sufficient to support you in taking the first step."
Saying this, the Black Dragonborn's claw reached into the inside of his cloak and took out a parchment scroll tied with a dark ribbon.
The paper was fine in texture, with some wear on the edges, clearly indicating it was frequently read.
He handed it to Kyle.
Kyle hesitantly took it, untied the ribbon, and carefully unrolled the parchment.
The text on it was an official document written in multiple languages, stamped with the prominent royal emblem of the Drakkari Frost Trolls Kingdom and the holy emblem of the Dragon of Radiance Church.
"Conscription Order?" Kyle softly read the title, his red eyes widening in surprise.
He quickly skimmed the content.
The document, jointly issued by the Drakkari Kingdom and the Church, aimed to fund adventurers who aspired to explore, trade, or spread the Dragon God's faith on other continents of Azeroth.
The terms were clear, promising to provide approved applicants with a considerable initial sum, necessary material support, and identity documents issued by the Church, in exchange for participants' commitment to regularly send back reports and uphold the kingdom's and church's reputation in foreign lands.
"This—this is—" Kyle's heart pounded.
This was an opportunity tailor-made for him!
Before he could recover from his shock, the Black Dragonborn took out another small item.
It was a thin slice of Obsidian, only the size of a fingernail.
Embedded in the center of the thin slice was a miniature infinity symbol (∞).
It was strung on a sturdy dark leather cord.
He also handed this peculiar amulet to Kyle.
"Take this," the Black Dragonborn's tone was unquestionable. "Upon arrival at Howling Fjord, go to the Explorer's Hall in Dekonor and present this token."
"You will receive their highest level of reception, and," he deliberately paused, emphasizing, "you will receive an initial grant of one thousand gold coins."
"Enough for you to recruit companions, purchase decent equipment, and start your journey with dignity, instead of singing for a few copper coins in some port bar."
One thousand gold coins!
Kyle gasped, almost dropping the parchment and the light but priceless token in his hand.
This sum of money was astronomical to him, enough to completely change his situation.
This mysterious sir—who exactly was he?
Why was he so generous to him, a young Dragonborn he had only met by chance?
After the enormous surprise came an intense unease.
Kyle suddenly looked up, his face full of alarm and refusal: "Sir! This—this is too valuable! I cannot accept it!"
"We are strangers; I haven't even been able to perform a complete song for you. I cannot bear such immense kindness!"
However, the Black Dragonborn merely shook his head slowly.
In his golden vertical pupils, for the first time before Kyle, an aura of majesty emerged.
It was no longer a suggestion, but a declaration.
"Kyle Embervoice," his voice deepened, "There is only one in this world who can refuse me."
"And you are clearly not him—"
Before the words had completely fallen, the Black Dragonborn casually waved a hand.
Kyle didn't even see the movement; he only felt the surrounding scene suddenly twist and shatter like a broken mirror!
The luxurious, cozy, and mysterious room instantly vanished without a trace.
The familiar smell of salted fish and moldy wood suddenly filled his nostrils; cold, rough wooden boards pressed against his back.
He blinked, finding himself lying on his back in that dark, cramped corner of the cargo hold, beneath him his thin bedding.
In his ears were the creaking of the ship's hull and the dull pounding of waves,
As if everything that had just happened was merely an overly vivid dream.
But the next second, his fingertips touched two things—the parchment conscription order, and the Obsidian token.
It wasn't a dream.
Kyle suddenly sat up, gasping for air in the deep darkness of the cargo hold, his heart pounding uncontrollably.
He looked down at the two heavy gifts in his hand, imbued with infinite possibilities, his mind filled only with those molten-gold vertical pupils and the Black Dragonborn's last words:
You are not qualified to refuse my kindness.
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