Crossing the narrow headland and galloping along the avenue leading straight to the Black Sea, nearly 100 elite cavalry approached the west gate of the fortress of Meisembria.

The red brick and stone Roman gates are flanked by two tall round towers, with the white tower to the north being significantly larger, topped by a Bulgarian-style wooden archery. The entire fortress resembles a giant warship anchored on the shores of the Yukchen Sea, and below it is a camp of refugees fleeing the war, and the stench can be smelled from a distance in the middle of a mixture of fugitive Greek peasants in wide-brimmed felt hats and stranded Scythian herdsmen.

Angus didn't bother to look at the chaos, he felt dizzy when he galloped on horseback, and the lining of his felt hat covering his long black hair was already soaked, and if he took off his chain mail, steam would definitely come out of his body, but at the moment the military situation was in full swing, and a moment of rest was a luxury.

"What's wrong?" A begging refugee was stunned by the sight before him, the last time the commander of Meisembria sent out his army, the army was not assembled in unison, and now hundreds of iron horsemen poured into the city with military insignia, and marched in the direction of the old parish, twenty years ago this small scene would not have caused any waves in this famous Black Sea city, but in the current Roman Empire, more than 100 regular soldiers are already princely level honor guards.

"There's going to be war again......" muttered a lame beggar as if remembering something.

The neighing of horses shook the eardrums of pedestrians, and in front of the magnificent Doge's Palace, the cavalry dismounted one after another, and the round iron boots continued to make a crisp knocking sound.

"Lord Angelo, the Emperor's envoy is here." Andronicus, the lieutenant general of the fortress, hurriedly reminded Angus without waiting for Angus to throw down his horsewhip, "It's His Majesty's Praetorian Guard......"

Angus nodded, and Gillick busily unfastened the buckle of his helmet for him, and after taking off the steel helmet, he took a silver basin filled with rose water from the waiter's hand, and held it high in front of Angus on one knee.

"Is that you?" As soon as the envoy entered, he called out to Angus, still in a northern language that was unfamiliar to all three highlanders.

Maeve was the first to recognize it, and she approached Angus lightly and whispered to him on tiptoe. Only then did Angus realize that this envoy was actually the barbarian he had rescued from the group of Vadarithai mercenaries.

"I am Björn from the Abyss, the Praetorian Guard of the King of Mykrigad." The envoy's face became extremely kind, and he no longer had the same arrogance as he had seen Andronicus at first, and he announced in Norwegian with an Icelandic accent, "The Garth-King has ordered Angus Yar to stop sending prisoners to the camp and to join the army when the defense was arranged." ”

Angus raised his hand to stop the translator who tried to speak: "No need, you can go down and rest first." ”

They were all northerners, and they were all barbarians in the eyes of others in this distant southern empire (Emperor Alexios once called the greedy wolf Lusail a Celtic barbarian in front of the citizens of Amasia), so Angus was not at all like the Romans on his side in front of this Varangian guard, with a contemptuous restraint in his bones. Naturally, the lead marks on the military order needed to be checked first, but after the official business, he motioned for everyone to step back first.

Bjorn stretched out his arms like a bear and hugged Angus.

"If it weren't for the help of the adults that day, I would have been torn to shreds by the wild dogs of the Magyars."

"How did you mess with them?" Angus remembered the skills of the group of Vadarithai mercenaries, and couldn't help but ask curiously.

"Bet on the dice, it's just that they are not like the sissy Greeks, who will only cry like babies when they lose all their lives, and those few miscellaneous pieces plan to directly punish me as dogs, but unfortunately my wife was watched by them first, and I can't do it, otherwise I ......"

Angus instantly remembered the red-haired Norse woman, with her burgundy eyes.

"If it weren't for the war, I would definitely go to those Turkic dogs to settle scores, even if Master Tetisius cut off my head." The Varangians picked up a glass from the side and gulped it down, letting the blood-colored juice spill over their ornate silk robes as they cursed in a gruff voice.

"They're in the Emperor's barracks too?"

"Isn't it, I'm the Praetorian Guard who guarded the palace for King Mikhail, and Robert Giska's son-in-law was carried out of the city by me, and now they're all crawling to the top of their heads by a group of swineherds! I swore that if I received the reward that the king owed me, I would immediately return to Iceland with my family, where I could live like a yard, and no king would interfere with my freedom. ”

The gold leaf and jewels on the Praetorian Guard's clothes dazzled Angus's eyes as he complained loudly, and the sumptuous satin shawl embroidered with a roaring white bear made it even more difficult to sympathize with the northern warrior who claimed to be asking the emperor for a salary.

"First of all, we have to win this battle."

"That's right! When I go to the king with the scarlet Scythian head, he will have no excuse to refuse my reward. ”

From the Varangian Guard, Angus guessed the mentality of the whole camp at this moment, everyone felt that the final victory was within reach, maybe as long as His Majesty the Emperor led this majestic army of divine soldiers to the sky in front of the nomads, those bandits scattered like a plague would be frightened and scattered.

The Romans must be warned.

Little Nikephoros Brenus, humming a cheerful tune, paced into the tent, where an old man with his eyeballs removed was waiting for him.

"The emperor asked everyone to continue to accelerate the march tomorrow, and they must not spare their horsepower." As soon as he saw his father, little Nikephoros boasted of what he had seen today, "Contostefano wanted to be a striker, and the emperor gave the most glorious position to that Paleoleg. ”

Old Nikephoros snorted, when he raised an army against Emperor Nikephoros Botaniates, he had already tested the quality of Isaac Contostefano on the battlefield, and he never understood why Emperor Alexios valued this vain guy so much, a "general" who could defeat even Caesar Nikephoros Melisenos, and the only advantage was probably loyalty.

"Are you ready for a spare ride?" The old man drooped his eyelids, but it was difficult to hide the hollow eye sockets.

"You still think the Turks will be able to win?" Little Nikephoros looked incredulous.

"Don't forget Manzkert!" The old man replied in a tone that his son could not have been more bored, "When you feel that you are sure of victory and intend to pursue the Turks, never forget this name!" ”

Manzkert, two generations of Roman soldiers living in the shadow of this cursed name, the military aristocracy of Asia Minor was once the backbone of the empire, even after the purge of Mikhail VI, they still had the ability to counterattack, and the military generals who followed Emperor Isaac Komunen, Komnenos, Scoleroru, Botaniates, Ducas, the hereditary military families of the Anatolian legions, all because they could not bear the oppression of civil officials and eunuchs for decades, they rose up angrily and stormed the capital, The removal of the bureaucrats and the purge of the eunuchs, and even the grandfather of Nikephoros the Younger who was blinded for participating in the rebellion, did not change the family's proud traditions, and it was the Seljuk Sultan Arp Arslan who really broke it all.

"You're not there, you haven't seen so many Roman heads removed, so many good lads, even the corpses have been desecrated. The Seljuks lay down their horses and waited for them at the top of the slope, and how rudimentary the bows and arrows and armor of these enemies were, and they wanted everything! By the time I arrived at the battlefield, the Seljuks had already stripped them of their armor and retreated without a trace. ”

"This time it's different." The stubbornness of young people is sometimes not weaker than that of old people.

"Have you seen our coming back sentinel these two days?"

"You mean?"

"The enemy has regrouped, at least no longer as an unorganized rabble." The old man asserted categorically, "Unlike the Turks and the Varangians, they are more accustomed to defeat and flight, but as long as Dingkou and the leaders of the tribes are still there, they will soon be a force to be taken lightly - where does the Emperor intend to fight a decisive battle?" ”

"Delasta ......"

"Fugitives will still make a comeback." The old man shook his head and read out Menander's verses.