Durin's Diary

Chapter 109: Money Can’t Buy Happiness

The Starks are rich.

This was Fisher's only thought after following the young boy Tony into the house.

The magnificent living room, the expensive leather sofas imported from the Eastern Elf Territory, the gold foil-wrapped table lamps, the excellent weapons on the weapon racks, and the portraits on the wall silently tell the glory of the family. Every dwarf who was lucky enough to be hung on the wall was once the pillar of a family.

Tony took Fisher to a weapons rack where the shotgun was placed.

"Here's my brother's gun." Tony took the gun from the shelf and pulled the pump as if for demonstration, showing everyone the ejection port to indicate that there was no bullet in it.

Fisher took the gun and felt a little warm, but considering that it had been placed on the fireplace, he didn't care. He handed the gun to his subordinates for inspection, and then walked into the studio under the guidance of Tony.

Mr. Durin's lynx, probably called Kal'tsit, was walking ahead, looking back every three or five steps.

Fisher had heard of this young lady's deeds. Whether she was fighting one against three stray dogs or attracting everyone's attention at the Extraordinary Market, this young and beautiful lady would surely become the most concerned existence for all lynx owners in the coming period.

From Fisher's perspective, this period of time might be very long - a magical pet with a legendary opportunity could live longer than some unlucky mortals who were courting death.

Soon, Fisher saw Dulin, who had his back to the studio door, and his Miss Homer standing on a bird stand nearby.

This is an even more incredible pet, a battle pet that has awakened its magic on its own. Even His Majesty's Grey Eagle is surpassed by it.

With the same weight, this eagle owl probably doesn't have many rivals. Even if it encounters a larger one, she can use her magic to take the initiative.

In front of Durin, on a huge drawing board, a huge painting was unfolding - it was in the shape of a pickaxe, and half of the content was already painted on it. The side profile of a dwarf appeared on the paper. It was Nelson Thunderhammer, a dwarf sage from the western mountains of Sidney eight centuries ago.

Because his pigtails and slicked-back hair are so iconic.

Behind him are mountains, battle flags, and fine wine, all of which belong to the beauty of the dwarves.

Of course, much of the pickaxe's surface remained blank, but as a connoisseur with artistic talent, Fischer naturally considered it a masterpiece. If a painting were like a puzzle, the child before him would surely complete it. "Invite Durin to make a pickaxe for your uncle's birthday."

"Yes, from the current perspective, I am personally very satisfied." Tony's face was full of excitement when he said this.

Fisher felt that if he were a dwarf, he would also be excited. After all, Nelson Thunderhammer was the greatest hero in the history of the dwarves in the past thousand years. He led the dwarves in Silver Peak Ridge, slaughtered the goblins and their evil relatives, and then took the initiative to reach a business alliance with the Sidney Union. The dwarf weapons were flooded in the Sidney Union's army, and in the battle with the Sidney Union, the northerners suffered a lot.

"Ah, Mr. Fisher, it's you. We are really destined to meet." Mr. Du Lin turned around at this time and looked at Fisher. At this time, the light happened to shine through the skylight of the studio onto Du Lin.

For a moment, Fisher thought he saw an angel, a messenger from God sitting on a tall swivel chair, depicting history on paper with a pen in his hand.

But Fisher quickly put on a professional smile: "What a great drawing! You must have thought about it for a long time."

"Not really. I spent the whole morning in the library reading history and ended up doing a lot of homework. When I got home, Tony asked me to help him make a pickaxe for his uncle's birthday, so I drew these." Halfway through his speech, a nostalgic smile crossed Durin's face as he stroked the lines on the paper. "Nelson Thunderhammer. He lost his father at a young age and rose to fame in the army. He lived an upright life and was eventually elected as a dwarven sage by the various tribes of the Sabba Mountains west of Sidney, who were still a loose group at the time. He led the dwarves in a crusade against the goblins, completely wiping out their gray dwarven relatives, and then establishing a trade alliance with Sidney. Even the then-High Dwarf King heard of his deeds. He was summoned seven times, and finally, at the age of 217, he took the initiative to go to the royal court, where he died of illness seventeen years later."

"Dwarves are no different from us humans." Fisher stood with his hands behind his back and smiled knowingly.

In his view, the sage had chosen to retreat in his twilight years. As the Sage of Silver Peak Ridge, he could have made his family a family of eternal sages, but he chose not to. Instead, he voluntarily relinquished his duties as a sage and took a leisurely job as a clerk at the royal court. The Silver Peak Thunder Hammer family could have striven to claim the High King's throne, but Nelson gave up.

Human historians didn't understand, and human mortals didn't understand either, but Fisher understood that Nelson didn't want the dwarven tribes to fall into a brutal civil war.

His starting point was good, but he forgot that life is inherently greedy. The High King's tyranny became more excessive after Nelson's death. Eventually, Nelson's fifth son raised the banner of rebellion. The dwarven civil war lasted for more than a hundred years. The High King's family was exterminated, and the Thunderhammer family also withered and dispersed.

The wise man wanted to paper over his world, but in the end he achieved nothing. All the hard work he put in during his lifetime was only a sad story after his death. Anyone who saw the scene of the river of blood would be speechless and choked with emotion.

Perhaps, the world is just like what the child in front of Fisher said, history can be summarized in just three words.

War, peace, revolution.

Life is so pathetic. The so-called civilization is nothing more than a fortress built on the beach, beautiful but fragile. A riot, a conspiracy, a dagger, a rebellion... Time comes and goes like the tide, but the fortress disappears, or only broken walls remain, leaving only regrets.

A subordinate came to Fisher to report that the number on the gun's firing pin did not match the one at the scene, but the number on the firing pin was consistent with the collection certificate, and it was not the same gun at the crime scene.

Fisher smiled knowingly at this, and the silver-haired old man nodded: "Pack the gun properly and don't let the owner get too upset."

After saying that, he looked at Tony again and apologized in a businesslike tone: "Sorry, it looks like there's nothing wrong with your gun."

"It's a good thing to prove your innocence." Tony grinned.

"Yes, that's a good thing." After saying that, Fisher came to Du Lin and patted the child on the shoulder. "I hope that when the white-bearded men from Wuyou Palace come over, you can give them a perfect answer. I'm optimistic about you."

"I know. After all, they are my elders. I also believe that I will hand in an answer that will satisfy everyone." Du Lin said this, picked up the charcoal pencil and continued to draw on the paper.

Fisher nodded and turned to leave.

It's normal that his subordinates got nothing.

Standing in the sun again, Fisher took out a cigarette from the cigarette box, and a sensible subordinate took out a lighter and lit it for him.

Exhaling a puff of smoke, Fisher smiled and said, "Let's go back and write the report."

After saying that, he got in the car.

As the vehicle started, he turned his head and glanced at the Stark mansion.

interesting.

My dear grandson of Yixu, do you know what you are doing?

You are protecting and aiding the enemies who are destined to overthrow the glorious rule of you nobles.

(End of this chapter)