Bruce's face stiffened slightly, he remembered that when he tricked Monica out of the swamp, he promised Monica that she would help her with plastic surgery, but that was just Bruce's expedient measure to get out, even in the era of advanced technology in later generations, plastic surgery was not an easy thing.

"Don't forget your promises, for witches value promises very much." Mavis didn't pester Bruce any longer, she put away her smile and said to Bruce before leaving.

"Ugh." Bruce touched his nose, speechless at Mavis's accusations.

Marcus sat in the big wooden barrel, he knew that this wooden barrel was used by nobles for bathing, but when the cold water was poured on his body, he knew that he could not get the enjoyment of a real nobleman after all, but he stayed in the stinky dungeon, he had not bathed for a long time, and he moaned comfortably.

"Lift your chin, I need to trim your beard and hair." A valet had a linen cloth on his left arm and a shiny knife in his other.

Brown hair and beard fell, and the dirty face of Marcus came alive, and he looked down at the water in the shaking barrel to see a handsome face that he had not seen in a long time.

"Lord Baron, he's here." The valet walked into Bruce's bedroom, and he lowered his head to report to Bruce.

"Okay, let him in." Bruce sat at his office wooden desk, holding a quill and on his right hand was a small precious inkwell with a pile of parchment rolls found in Jeffrey's treasurer's bedroom.

"Whoa." The yellowed parchment, with a pen written in black ink, seemed to be just the number of crops seized from all over the territory, and it seemed as ridiculous to a modern person as a kindergarten child taking inventory of toys, but Bruce knew that it was not easy to write records so clearly and methodically in this day and age.

"Wait a minute, let Stukov get Jeffrey's treasurer." Bruce looked up and commanded the valet as he was about to turn away.

"Yes, Lord Baron." The manservant hurriedly bowed to Bruce and withdrew.

Marcus walked into Bruce's bedroom, he saw Bruce buried in the pile of parchment, slightly surprised, on the one hand, he was surprised by Bruce's age, you must know that after dealing with Jeffrey, Marcus knew very well that this lord with the reputation of a pro-loved was not easy to mess with.

Therefore, being able to kill Jeffrey and take his castle is certainly not something that an ordinary person can do, but the young baron in front of him has done it.

"Perhaps, he has a powerful auxiliary, but who is it?" Marcus thought so in his heart, being able to wander from the south to various kingdoms, Marcus must have some knowledge.

"Oh, yes, I didn't expect you to look handsome." Bruce looked up from the pile of parchment, he glanced at Marcus, who was standing in front of him, clean, and well-dressed, and smiled at him.

"Thank you, honorable Baron, for your kindness in setting me free." Marcus crossed his legs, bent his knees slightly, placed his right hand on his forehead, and gracefully circled a few times, giving Bruce a southern salute.

"I did release you, but I didn't set you free." Bruce smiled, he wouldn't let go of this robbed version of Leonardo da Vinci easily, a genius who knew how to study anatomy and could draw was not easy to get.

"What do you mean?" Marcus frowned, and he straightened up to look at Bruce suspiciously.

"I want you to work for me, to be my attendant, to be at my disposal." Bruce stood up, inserted the quills into the inkwell, and tapped the wooden table lightly with the index and middle knuckles of his right hand.

"Be your retinue?" Marcus looked at Bruce in front of him, this young baron had an irresistible sense of majesty, perhaps this was naturally formed by Bruce in the process of leading the army.

"That's right." Bruce nodded.

"I see, but I have a few conditions."

"Say."

"Number one, I want to know your secret about blood circulation."

"Yes, I'll teach you slowly."

"Second, I have to charge a commission every month, no more than three silver coins."

"You still have to collect money?" Bruce was slightly surprised when he heard the second condition, he thought that a person like Marcus, who would rather exhume corpses in order to study the structure of the human body, should devote himself to art wholeheartedly, a fresh and refined existence.

"I need money to buy paints and tools for paintings, and occasionally marble for carving." Marcus shrugged his shoulders, he wasn't a god who didn't eat the fireworks of the world.

"Deal." Bruce agreed to his terms, and Marcus reached out his right hand, spat into his palm, and walked up to Bruce.

"Oh?" Bruce watched his actions in confusion, then reacted, and spat on his palms, and the palms of the two clapped together.

"I beg your pardon, this is the custom of the southerners, and only then can employment be established." After Marcus and Bruce high-fived, he suddenly relaxed, and he said to Bruce with a smile.

"Understood, Marcus, I have a very important thing that only you can do for me." Bruce didn't expect the customs of the Southerners to be so eccentric, but Bruce did have one thing that only an artist like Marcus could do.

"I'm here for you, Lord Baron." Marcus said after bowing to Bruce.

The Duke of Bemessi stood on the city wall, his mouth open almost enough to fit an egg, which was completely inconsistent with his noble and elegant status, but the nobles and soldiers around him had similar expressions, so no one cared about such a trivial matter at this time.

"The Lord God is above, is this the power of the Divine Grace Knight?" One of the courtiers reacted first, gesturing his hand to his chest and making a gesture of prayer to speak everyone's mind.

At the edge of the forest outside the castle, the troops of the serf rebels were beaten by the Divine Grace Knights, and the originally thick position was simply vulnerable under the impact of dozens of Divine Grace Knights, and in just a few hours, the serf rebels who were numerous and powerful were scattered like birds and beasts, they were weak like a group of babies in the face of the Divine Grace Knights' war horses and sharp swords.

"Retreat, retreat." The serf rebels crumbled and scattered, and even the northern warriors among them tried to hold the line to no avail, and the knights of divine grace took the life of a man with every swing of his sword, pierced the body with every spear he stabbed, and his thick shield was as weak as tissue paper.