Owen opened his eyes again, and Sylvia stood in front of him, thin shoulders and broad hips. He noticed that he was naked, only his lower body was covered with a wolf's skin, stained with sweat.

"It's you." He struggled to make a sound.

In Sylvia's eyes, the young man's wild cheetah-like body was just another reminder of the dream she had had last night—what a dream.

Owen remembered everything that had happened, he wasn't sane, but he remembered everything, from her gasps as she spat on her scars to the fierce writhing she had.

He had sinned, and Owen knew it, and Sylvia was Traherne's widow and Eloway's cousin—he didn't regret killing Trahern at that bottom, but treating Traherne's widow like that was another matter.

The rumbling thunder came from outside the window, and Owen was startled, he didn't care about Sylvia's shy expression, and stood up naked: "What happened before?" ”

"You ......" Sylvia's voice was sobbing, and Owen immediately understood that she had misunderstood herself.

"I mean, what the hell is going on out there?"

Sylvia shuddered as Owen's fingers touched the top of her shoulder, his caress apparently only meant comfort, but to her, Owen's every movement was filled with an insatiable hunger.

"The Scotsman took you back to the castle, and soon the English reinforcements arrived, and now they are firing stone projectiles at our walls."

"Scotsman, how is he?"

"Dead, he rode into the siege with an arrow in his back." Sylvia seemed to remember some terrible scene, and her expression was uncomfortable.

"So, did he say anything?" Owen remembered the child, it was a slim thing to get out of such a chaotic battlefield, and the child was only afraid of bad luck.

"No, they say, the Scotsman was shot through the lungs, and he just vomited blood, like a dehydrated fish, and it was terrible, God."

Owen took her into his arms, endured the temptation of the scent on her body, comforted Sylvia like a brother, and that was just what I was supposed to do, Owen kept reminding himself that last night was an accident.

After walking out of the castle tower, Owen, who had already put on his coat, finally calmed down, and the next scene he saw made him feel even colder.

The English soldiers dug several trenches around Fort Maslafa and built protective plates to protect them from fire and arrows, but it was not the armor on the soldiers that shocked Owen, nor the large group of fat and strong Flemish horses under the Golden Dragon King in the distance, but all his attention was attracted by the thirty-six carts in the direction of the city walls, from which the English were constantly unloading components of various shapes, and judging from the parts they had installed, it was a trebuchet.

But what trebuchet needs thirty-six car parts? Owen could not have imagined that the English who were like worker ants were in a gray stream, orderly erecting a giant iron tower in front of the defenders of the Welsh walls. There was an earth-shattering cheer from the English position: "Ludegar! Ludega! ”

Ludegar is the Latin word for wolf warrior.

Edgar, who was watching, proudly introduced to Count Mercia, "This is a super trebuchet designed and built by us, four hundred feet high, enough to break through hell!" ”

At this time, a group of Welshmen came out of the city walls, and they were brought before the English king.

In the castle, Owen found Sylvia in desperation: "Maredud and Gwenbraid, they have decided to surrender, we must get out of here!" ”

Sylvia shook her head, "We can't go unless we can fly across the Banwe River." ”

Owen was stunned, he seemed to be hesitating about something, his expression was extremely hideous, and it was not until there was a terrible cry outside that he made up his mind: "You can surrender them, just hand me over, it's all because of me, you don't have to die." ”

Her tears immediately fell, and her eyes were like the waters of a lake under Mount Vidfa: "But I love you." ”

"Sylvie, you don't have to." Owen didn't know what he would do if he listened any further.

"Why do you think Elovia was promised to you? Trahn had planned to ask for her herself. "When my father agreed to be engaged, I knew I wouldn't have the chance to tell you everything again, but I want you to remember me, even if it's in another person, and see me once in a while...... Poor Elovia. ”

"O God! What did you do? ”

Lord Maredud pushed open the room they were in, stunned by what he saw, the man and woman did not look decent at all, if the time had changed, Maredud would not have let go of this scandal, but he quickly recovered from the shock, and shouted in a mournful and indignant voice: "That English bastard refused our surrender and returned all the hostages we sent!" ”

Sylvia's face erased, revealing a smile: "Now we don't have to think about anything else, let's die together." ”

"What are you talking about?" Lord Maredud was simply dizzy, he didn't expect that these two people had gone crazy, and now that the whole castle was finished, his family, his ambition would also become the burial of Fort Maslafah, which was not what he wanted when he shouted the slogan of revenge for Trahern.

The man and woman were immersed in their own world, until a mouthful of blood erupted from Owen's mouth, and Maredud's sword stabbed through his back, who let go of the golden, copper-plated gauntlet, and staggered out. Sylvia clung to Owen's corpse and wept bitterly.

In the tent outside the city, the Earl of Mercia felt a chill down his spine, and the king told the Welsh envoys in the presence of all the nobles that they did not deserve to be pardoned, and then drove the weeping hostages back.

Count Moka did his best to keep his composure, but when the trebuchet threw the first stone projectile with a loud crash, his fat body nearly collapsed, and then peeked into the king, trying to see through the light show—was the king trying to deter him with the fate of Maslafburg, or was he just trying to experiment with his large toy?

Robert Mallett behind the Earl did not dare to breathe, he had relied on Moka's support to sit on the fortified city all these years, he was bold and pretentious, almost comparable to the king of a country. For the royal family, this Norman is not very in awe, and even mentioned his dissatisfaction with Count Rodrigo to Moca many times, and it just so happened that Count Moca was also extremely wary of the influence of the Spaniard on the queen and even Prince Edmund, and under the reminder of his cousin, the old earl also thought about the question of who would become the regent of the kingdom in case of the sudden death of the king who loved war games.

This time, Edgar reminded everyone that he was still the prince on horseback who had defeated the Normans, not the weak penitent Edward, but with him alone, the Wessex royal family was still in full swing.

The roar of the boulders and walls continued, the cheers of "Ludega" echoed in the ears, and the dynasty of Bradeen ended in such a thunderous rage, and Masrafa would eventually become a ghost-haunted ruin, where all ambition and love were buried—but some hatred would not be easily forgotten, living in the ashes, like a wrath that emanated from the ruins.