The Astarte of the B

Lane sighed inwardly, barely perceptibly. He could only comfort himself mentally: come on, a magical medieval era is still the Middle Ages.,Lan En's face, as pale as ice, showed no sign of change. He spurred his horse forward, "We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves any longer, Bolten. You know what the situation is.",Borough's face darkened, and after a moment of thought, he sheathed his dagger.。