"Lord Luga! Lord Luga! ”

At this time, Luga lowered his head and saw the young man, who looked serious and raised his right hand to signal Luga, in order to attract his attention.

"What's wrong, kid?" Luga froze, laughing and complaining, "You've disturbed my train of thought, damn it, it's hard for you to imagine what it was like to remember the scene vividly, it's so exciting." ”

"Forgive my offense, Lord Luga, no, Caesar!" The young man's hands faltered, and he looked at the parchment he had laid on the ground, and God knows how eager he was to record them.

"How is it that what you say is different from what I heard!" The young man quoted the scriptures seriously: "I heard many people say in private, Attila didn't bring so many people, and besides, the high ground was just deliberately let out by Attila!" ”

"Hahaha..."

Luga's laughter interrupted the young man's conversation, and he shook his head and said with a smile: "Child, how much is history true and how much is false?" ”

"I don't understand."

"What you know is nothing but a castrated version, like the attendants who serve the princess in the Eastern Country, but it's incomplete, well, man."

"But it's on this scale..."

"Don't question me, kid!" Lu Jia continued with a smile on his face: "If the real history is placed in front of you, I am afraid that you will not be able to bear its weight, knowing that such a huge scale, anyone will be scared of their courage!" ”

The young man stopped talking, and it seemed that he was beginning to be willing to believe the words of the person who had experienced it in front of him.

"Believe me, boy, we paid a terrible price to take that high ground." Luga couldn't help but sigh when he said this, "Their corpses haven't been cleaned up until now, I'm afraid they have already rotted into white bones by now." It's a pity that the drunkard who drinks in the tavern doesn't know; The girl who watched the actor perform in the theater and fell in love for the first time didn't know; The patriarchs and nobles who feasted in a garden did not know that everything they enjoyed today had been preserved through the blood and lives of countless poor people. They had no one to remember them, none of them, as if it had never happened. ”

Luga couldn't help but let out a long sigh when he said this, and then he picked up the flask and poured it into his glass, only to see that it was still full.

"How?" Luga raised his head and looked at the young man in front of him suspiciously, "You don't like to drink?" This is invaluable. ”

"Oh, yes, yes, sir, I say, it's Caesar." The young man stopped talking, stared at the flask in Luga's hand for a moment, and then said, "I think it might be better to add some water!" ”

"You are very tasteful like those old nobles, but a martial artist like me is a bit savage." Luga smiled and poured half a glass of wine for his lover so that he could taste it in his own way.

"According to you, is that why we are struggling to resist the barbarian invasion, and our victory is becoming more and more elusive?" The young man asked, picked up his glass, tasted it, and put it down.

"No, at least, not all." Luga looked up at the wooden roof above his head, and continued: "The army is full of Germanic people, and as you know, the nobles have always looked down on these stinking fellows, so you despise your soldiers, and naturally you will not get their loyalty. ”

Loyalty is based on mutual respect and tolerance, but the balance is out of balance in Rome.

"It's hard to imagine how miserable it was, with corpses covering the entire top of the heights, and the blood was like dye, dyeing it red, like a sea of blood in hell." Once again, Luga fell into memory.

At this time, it was already dusk, the sound of fighting on the battlefield was getting quieter and quieter, and there were few scenes of fighting, not only the Huns, but also their servant troops retreated one after another.

The battlefield suddenly became unusually quiet, the cries of killing were silenced, and the only cries on the battlefield were the wails of the wounded and the cries of the bereaved soldiers.

The whole area was lifeless, and Luga and a group of generals patrolled back and forth along the battlefield under the escort of the guards.

At this time, it was already dusk, and it was about to enter the night, and I don't know if the sky was a mirror or God was also amazed by such casualties, and the dusk turned out to be blood red.

Riding on horseback, Luga pointed to the sunset in the distant western sky and said to the group behind him: "We have decorated and stained this sky red with the blood of the Huns as a gift to God. Believe me, tomorrow, it's definitely a perfect sunny day, because God can't wait to see us defeat this gang of invading bastards. ”

Along the way, you can see corpses everywhere, and soldiers holding corpses and crying, they look at Luga and his party, stretch out their hands as if begging for something, and keep crying and crying, telling that the war has made them lose too much.

This is indeed a tragedy, but the tragedy itself is predestined, and no matter what, it cannot be avoided.

In the face of the cries of these self-righteous fellows, Luga could only bury his head and urge the others present to speed up their pace, so as to avoid these cries far away, even if this sound replaced the roars and fighting on the battlefield, like raindrops falling everywhere.

In areas where the Goths were fighting with the Huns' servant armies, scattered Gothic soldiers patrolled the battlefield, armed with sharpened sticks stained with blood and minced flesh, and one can imagine how many wounded and pretended dead they had killed.

"It was only a small victory, although far more people died than we expected." Luga seemed to speak to herself as she walked forward.

At this moment a conscription came not far away, and the conscriptor came to Luga, and after a short salute, the conscriptor hurriedly reported: "Caesar, the Huns have retreated to the south of the Marne, and have regrouped there, and the other scattered armies are drawing on him. ”

"Well, Attila didn't give up because of this setback, after all, he is still strong enough to fight us."

At this time, Theodoric, who was on the sidelines, said: "I think we should still adjust our tactics. ”

"What do you think, Gothic King?" Luga looked back at Theodoric and asked with interest.

"I think we should reposition the battlefield, let's say I'm on the right, you're on the left, and have the Franks and the Alans in the middle, and Torismond with the cavalry in the rear."

"It seems that Your Excellency still takes Torrismon very seriously." Luga quipped.

"Yes, Caesar, Torrismon is my son, and I have always been my pride." Theodoric said, not forgetting to glance at Torrismon beside him, his eyes full of pride.

Luga also looked back at Torrismon for a long time, as if he wanted to keep this young face in mind at this time, at least as young as he was.