In the heart of Besançon, in the court of the Marquis of Ivrea, ruler of the Count of Burgundy, Abbot Orlof from Lucesen was discussing a topic in the office of the Minister of Justice.

“...... And that's the thing, now that the whole southern border is in chaos, and many of our churches and monasteries are harassed by hungry outcasts and robbers, we really need such warriors to guard the border for us. When Dean Orlov finished speaking, he leaned back in his large chair and stared at the Minister of Peace.

The Minister of Justice listened quietly, and his heart was also calculating. The recent constant security alarms on the southern border have caused him a headache, and the castles and villages along the southern border are too busy to take care of themselves, and the lords and city officials can only do their best to maintain the basic stability of their jurisdictions. With the spread of war at the southern tip of the continent, a large number of displaced people fled north, and the pressure on the southern border of Burgundy became more and more intense.

"Your Excellency, the one you are talking about is called Art......"

"Art Wood Wells"

"Yes, that's this Art, what is his origin?" The Minister of Peace asked.

"His father was my bodyguard when I was in the army in the Holy Land of Jerusalem, and he himself fought in jihad with his father, and he was a saint and an excellent non-commissioned officer of the Holy Order." Dean Orloff replied.

The Minister of Justice touched his head, which had no hair, and said to Dean Orlov: "It may be feasible to set up a border patrol officer in Tinets County, but now it is impossible for the court to allocate money, and it can only be raised by the local lords and castles, and the palace minister still has to lobby there......" He stopped, picked up the silver wine glass on the table, took a sip, and glanced at Dean Orlov's cuffs.

Dean Orlov understood and beckoned to the bodyguard standing aside, who came over, took out a cowhide money bag from his bosom, and gently placed it on the table in front of the Minister of Peace.

The Minister of Security put down his wine glass and gently pinched the money bag, smiled slightly, and said: "Today, the palace minister accompanied the marquis to meet the envoys of Provence, and I will report this matter to the palace minister tomorrow, and Your Excellency will go back and wait for a few days, and then I will send someone to send the letter of appointment to Lucesin ......"

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"Master, does this Border Patrol Officer have a knighthood?"

"Nope"

"Will it be sent to the soldiers patrolling the border?"

"I guess we'll have to recruit ourselves"

"Then there will always be money and food, right?"

"Possibly, but little hope"

The two asked and answered, and the face of the person who asked became more and more ugly, but the person who answered was like water.

Ron expressed great puzzlement that Lord Art had traded one hundred and fifty silver coins for a nominal Frontier Patrolman, and in his eyes one hundred and fifty small silver coins were enough for the entire family to eat and wear for four years.

"Ron, you'll understand later. Now, it's time for you to move on to your swordsmanship. Instead of rambling with Ron, Art tapped Ron on the shoulder with a stick in his hand and walked towards the backyard of the inn.

Ron dragged the short stick and reluctantly followed. In the days he spent waiting for news, Ron had been beaten with a stick from Art. Despite being beaten every day, Ron's swordsmanship didn't make much progress, and Art knew that it was impossible for Ron to learn high-level swordsmanship, so he just taught him the most basic steps, sword stance, and slashing and stabbing a few offensive and defensive swordsmanship.

Time passed quickly amid the clattering of blows and the muffled sound of sticks on meat.

Early in the morning of the tenth day, Art rode Ron to the gate of the abbey, and after waiting for a meal, Art was escorted into the abbot's office.

Dressed in a long white robe, with a sage around his waist and a tie, and a gilded cross on his chest, Abbot Orlov had just returned from his morning prayers when he beckoned Art to come over, and Art stepped forward to kneel and kiss the Abbot's ring.

Dean Orlov smiled kindly and sat Art next to him.

"Art, live up to your mission, your letter of appointment has arrived." As he spoke, Dean Orlov picked up a roll of parchment tied in a dark red ribbon from his desk and handed it to Art, who took it with both hands and opened it gently.

On the parchment is the "Letter of Appointment" written in the center, and below are a few lines of beautiful Latin written in quill:

"Because of the chaos in the south, the border is unstable, there are many chaotic people, and bandits are everywhere. For the sake of the stability of the border and the happiness of all the people, Art Wood Wells is hereby appointed as the Border Patrol Officer (Patrol Officer) to oversee the southern border patrol of Tiniez County, arrest thieves, defend against the barbarians, maintain peace and stability, and act cheaply. ”

In the lower right corner is the signature and seal of the Minister of Justice of the Count of Burgundy.

Art looked at these words transcribed by the court clerks, and his heart was still a little excited, with such a piece of paper, he could be regarded as an official status.

"Artist, along with the letter of appointment, there was also a private letter from the Minister of Justice, in which he told me that the Minister of the Palace had agreed to the proposal to set up a security patrol officer on the southern border of the country, and that there were patrol officers in all four border towns along the southern border, and that the patrol officer was a temporary position, nominally under the control of the Minister of Justice, and that it would be reported to the Minister of Justice after the formation was completed. However, the formation of the patrol team and the supply and supply of the patrol team are the responsibility of the local county castle and village, and the Minister of Justice has ordered the towns and villages on the southern border to give the patrol officer support. But I don't think the South guys will heed this flimsy order. In addition, the 'act cheap' in the letter of appointment seems to give the Patrol Officers a great deal of freedom, but in fact they are telling the Patrol Officers to bring their own supplies and raise their own personnel and equipment...... "Chief Orlov expressed deep concern about Yat's upcoming appointment as a border patrol officer.

"That's the case, kid. In addition, I have here a private letter to Viscount Pierre, in which I tell him that you are the son of my old friend, and ask him to take care of him. However, I have a very little personal relationship with the Viscount of Pierre, and I do not know how useful this letter will be. Dean Orloff pulled out a lacquered letter from the table and handed it to Art......

Having received the paperwork for his appointment, Yat said goodbye to Abbot Orlov and turned to leave the monastery.

Seeing Art out of the monastery, Ron led the mule and horse and walked forward quickly and asked, "Master, has your letter of appointment come down?"

Art nodded.

"Great, now you're a Ranger!" Ron was heartily happy.

"Ron, we can't rejoice too soon, the situation is exactly as I expected, and the court has only given an empty shelf to a Border Patrolman." Art spoke calmly, for the results were all he expected, and he needed the empty shelf now.

The purpose of this northward trip has been accomplished, and the two of them began to prepare for the return trip.

After lunch, Ron pushed open the door to Art's room.

"Master, I have already found the grain store you asked me to find. I inquired about the caravans, and found that the grain in the towns and cities in the south was more expensive than in Luces, and I searched all the grain stores in Lucein, comparing the prices from house to house, and found that the rye and barley in the west of the city were the cheapest, and the hulled rye was five pounds a fennig, and the barley was a fennig four pounds, but they were all stale grains. A grain store in the south of the city has the cheapest wheat, and if you buy a large amount, you can buy three pounds of fennig. Ron reported back to Art on the results of the past few days.

Art tapped his fingers on the small wooden table in the room, thinking in his head.

When he came out of the valley, he took all the money with him, and after the hundred and fifty small silver coins given to Abbot Orlov and the food and lodging of the two men and the fodder for the mules and horses, there were twenty-nine large silver marks, three small silver deniers, some scattered finneys, and various small copper coins, and about four thousand three hundred finnighs left in his purse.

He planned to go to the south first to recruit a dozen homeless families to open up wasteland and cultivate land in the valleys. After the matter of clearing the land and cultivating the land is arranged, we will go to form a border patrol team.

According to Art's plan, the displaced people recruited in advance needed to be supplied with a month's worth of food for the winter, and then Cooper and Scott would go outside to buy food rations that would support the harvest season in the wasteland. More than 1,300 pounds of grain are needed for the early winter, and more than 1,300 pounds of grain are needed according to the enrollment of 10 homeless households, three people per household, and one pound of grain per capita per day, and more grain is needed later. Art concluded that the further south he went, the more expensive the grain became, and that Lucesine's grain should be cheap, so he sent Ron to the city to investigate, intending to buy a batch of grain to bring back to the valley.

"Ron, have you found the carriage you're looking for?" Art asked, looking up.

Ron scratched his head and replied, "Sir, I've been looking for it, but it's too expensive, and a new two-wheeled carriage with single-pull side panels in the carriage and horse shop costs six hundred pfennigs, and a four-wheeled wooden wagon costs as much as a thousand pfennigs." It will be cheaper to customize at a carpenter's shop, but you will have to wait at least a month. I also asked the merchant's store, and their carriages either don't sell or ask for a very high price. ”

"You've done a great job. In a moment we will go to the site of the Khvov Cathedral, where I remember several abandoned carriages, which we might buy and have a carpenter repair. You go and get a carpenter to the cathedral site, and I'll go and have a look. Art thought for a moment and said.

The two of them left the hotel and went their separate ways.