Durin pushed the door open and found the tavern quiet, with not many people.
The tavern owner behind the circular table was sitting on a chair wiping glasses, seemingly chatting with a middle-aged man, who appeared somewhat agitated, occasionally clenching his fist and pounding the table.
At the same time, a black loudspeaker hung in the corner of the wall, broadcasting a crosstalk radio drama, occasionally making the drinking customers burst into laughter.
The floor inside the tavern was covered with dark brown solid wood flooring, which looked like it hadn't been maintained for a long time, and some spots creaked when stepped on.
An ordinary-looking tavern waitress emerged from the back kitchen carrying trays of steaming hot food. Seeing Durin, who was wearing a Mage Robe, enter, she quickly walked over and said with a smile: "Respected Mister Mage, what would you like to eat? Or drink? How about a refreshing ice-cold beer on this hot summer day?"
Although she had an ordinary appearance, her chest was quite ample. When the tavern waitress leaned over to ask Durin, her face almost touched Durin's body.
Durin took out 15 copper circle coins from his inner pocket and said, "Please bring me an ice-cold beer, and then a meal that can fill my stomach."
"Alright, no problem." The tavern waitress took the 15 copper circle coins. She turned and walked away, deliberately swaying her waist, and many whistles came from around, with people occasionally reaching out to touch her backside.
Durin sat on a chair, surveying the tavern, and noticed that the walls, covered with wood-grained wallpaper, displayed decorative animal heads and furs. Beside these trophies hung some rusty cold weapons and two wooden-handled hunting rifles.
"Please, brother, do me this favor! If the higher-ups find out, they'll definitely kick me out of the team for dereliction of duty."
"It's not that I don't want to help you, but you know the situation in the Brittany District. How could capable people live in such a poor and old district! And Mobil Street is the most remote part of the district, and you won't even let me post it on the bulletin board. Where am I supposed to find talented individuals for you? How about… you ask that Mister Mage who just came in? He looks quite formidable."
Suddenly, Durin heard the two people talking at the circular table mention him, which made him unconsciously shift his attention to them.
He saw the middle-aged man with a chiseled, lean, and dark face approach with a glass. His face bore the marks of sun and wind exposure, he had a short beard, a buzz cut, and brown hair.
He wore a leather jacket on his upper body and long trousers on his lower body, a very classic modern outfit.
The middle-aged man politely asked, "Hello, are you a respected Mister Mage?"
"No, I am only a Mage Apprentice." Durin shook his head and answered truthfully, "What's wrong?"
The middle-aged man took out a cigarette from his pocket and respectfully offered one to Durin, then took out another for himself and put it in his mouth.
Then, he skillfully fumbled in his pocket for a diesel lighter, and with a flick, a small flame appeared. He first lit Durin's cigarette, then lit the one in his own mouth. After taking a deep drag, he cautiously asked, "A Mage Apprentice should also know spells like throwing a fireball, right?"
Durin thought for a moment. The Flamespray cantrip was, in a sense, a weakened version of a Fireball spell.
So, he nodded in affirmation.
The middle-aged man's eyes immediately lit up. He excitedly said, "Mister Mage, would you mind stepping aside to talk? We can go to a small private room for a meal. I have a private matter I'd like to entrust to you."
Saying this, he pointed to the four small private rooms with drawn curtains on the far left of the tavern hall. These small rooms were about five or six square meters each, furnished with a small table and two leather sofas.
Durin thought about it. He figured even if this person had ill intentions, he wasn't worried.
Whether it was the morning star at his waist or casting spells at close range, he wouldn't be at a disadvantage.
After some thought, Durin stood up and followed the middle-aged man into a small private room, drawing the curtain shut.
Durin held a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, leaning his upper body on the long table, his eyes narrowed as he observed the somewhat nervous middle-aged man. He calmly asked, "What exactly do you need my help with?"
The middle-aged man took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled a series of shifting smoke rings, letting them drift upwards and gradually disappear. His voice slightly hoarse, he said, "Respected Mage, do you know about zombies?"
Zombies?
Durin raised an eyebrow in surprise and retorted, "Are you talking about those undead creatures that revive in zombie form? Can you explain in more detail?"
Earlier, when Durin was an assistant to a necromancer in Zaun, he learned about the concept and knowledge of zombies. These are undead creatures that retain no trace of their former selves, and their consciousness lacks any capacity for thought.
Most zombies are born from resentment accumulating in a body that cannot accept the fate of death. Then, they may undergo zombification due to contracting corpse poison or absorbing dark elemental particles flowing in the air, among many other conditions.
These naturally born zombies will kill any living creature that passes by.
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