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The dwarves were not punctual, which Arno had not expected, even when it came to military affairs. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

"Sorry, they're still on their way." Monta XII's answer made the bald-headed one-eyed dragon Arno finally understand the power of this mantra that the dwarves of Tekken always love to say.

It was originally expected that it would only take 4 days to transfer troops, but now it has been half a month, and the urgent news from Yafenburg has fallen into Arno's palm like snowflakes flying in the sky, all of which are urged by Count Culosius, the situation around Yafen has deteriorated sharply, at least there are messengers from Yafen around him every day.

Half a month later, on the fourth day, Monta XII's order was fully executed. The snow outside Tekken was filled with red dwarf warriors from Harbor Havallo, halfling throwers from Haflinburg, and these short warriors stood in a black patch on the snow outside Tekken Castle waiting to be reviewed by their king, Monta XII.

While waiting, they seized the time to exchange heads with great interest.

The red dwarves of Port Havalo and the halflings of Havelinburg talked warmly and friendly, patting each other on the shoulders and then going around behind each other and kicking each other's butts, laughing in the cold snow and talking about Havelinburg and Harbor Havalo, and their common focus was not on the news of the war from Jafen, but on the best Havalo spirits brewed by Batu Celt at the Silaire Hotel at 15 North Street Alley in Harbor Havalo and the roast goose from the Triumph Guest Hotel on Starwind Street in Havelinburg.

"I haven't seen you for more than twenty years, halfling little one, I remember when you came to the Winterte tribe in Havalore, when you didn't have a beard, and you could tell at a glance that you were a young rookie, and you carried a big wooden barrel." A rugged dwarf with a gray beard but a graceful streamlined upturn patted a black-bearded halfling dressed in thick fur.

"Ha, old fellow, it's you, the kind middle-aged man of the Winterte tribe! yes, I haven't seen each other in 23 years, and I'm still learning the craft of bucket making from my dad! Bob Winter, son of the chief of the Wintert tribe, except that your beard has turned gray, you still look so rude, and your body is still so strong! But thank you for your hospitality 23 years ago! The black-bearded halfling also patted Bob Wintert on the shoulder and laughed, "Look, I'm already the father of five little calves!" My little calves are all very strong, and they catch fish in the ice cave of Havelinburg every day with harpoons to support the family, and serve the old man of my family to enjoy his old age, but I still miss the taste of your roast goose, and eat fish every day, and I think of nausea when I see sea fish now! ”

"Yes, yes! The years have not forgived me, my beard has turned gray, but I still have strong muscles, and I can swallow a goose in one gulp and drink a can of havalo spirits in one gulp! Habalin Sorin. Havlinburg's little dot has become a thrower! They have all become the fathers of five little calves. But I'm better than you, and I have six sons. One more than you, behold, my little chieftain is there, and the young man with the red beard is my eldest son, Solo Winter. Bob was very happy, he liked to praise his son in front of others, because his son could become a warrior in the Winterte tribe at a young age, "By the way, why did you join the army if you don't become a cooper?" ”

Bobu took out a pipe from the cloth bag, lit the tobacco in the pipe with a flint and steel, and leisurely exhaled a smoke ring, and handed the pipe to Habalin.

"Ah, Bobu, I should call you Chief Bobu. Hahaha, the cooper doesn't make much money in this business, I'm different from you, you're the chief of the Winterte tribe, the largest tribe in Havalor, and it's not a problem to have ten or eight sons, you have to know that I have five calves, and I have to consider changing careers, and when I was financially strained, thanks to the kindness of the chief in front of me, I joined the regular army of Haflinburg, became a thrower, and could get a salary of 4 silver coins a month, which was much higher than the cooper's income. Habalin leisurely took a puff of the pipe handed over by Bobu, choked and coughed directly, "This smoke is really strong, good smoke!" ”

Habarin took another drag on his cigarette and pointed to the halfling chief in front of him with a fur hat and a delicate sling, and looked as nervous as if he were very concerned about his surroundings, like a few man-eating monsters popping up in the open snow.

"Ah, it's him! He was an old diehard of the less-likable and cautious Celtic family, and his personality was as wrinkled as the spirits made by Batu Celt at the North Street Silaire Inn. Oh, Habarin, take this pipe and tobacco if you like, I gave him to you, and besides, your friend Haloline is next to my son, and I think you must want to catch up with him. Bob raised his voice, trying to draw the attention of the halfling chief, "Bob Celt, the chief of the Winterle tribe of Havalore is at your service, the chief of my Celtic family, Nuster. Bob laughed as he stumbled closer to Nuster.

"Don't you think your name is presumptuous, boy of Winter? Your father and I are old friends, and although I have lived for seventy years, I am not deaf in my ears, blind in my eyes, and strong in my body! In any case, even if I am old, blind, and lying on a slate bed, my rank can be regarded as your uncle, is there someone like you who is so old and stubborn, and who is stubborn to call your uncle? I don't respect the old man's little nephew, Bobu. Chief Nusterl Celt turned around with a smile, and it was evident that he heard Bob's voice, and although his hair was all white and his face was full of wrinkles, his eyes were bright, like a pair of big eyes that fell on a wrinkled, thin face, like a jungle macaque king living in the world of the Trian Terrans.

"Daddy Nuster, it's an indescribable comfort to see you covered in white hair." Bob and Nustere hugged each other and patted each other on the shoulders, "The eyes are sharp, and the body is tough!" ”

"Little, little, little one. Tough and tough, you're going to shake my old man apart. How have your stubborn old men been doing for the past few years? Nuskental laughed and asked how his father was doing.

"Daddy Nuster, that stubborn old man of my family enjoys life in Snow Country more than you, and I think he must be in love with his four red dwarf girls on the kang now." Bob aptly described his own father's life, causing Chief Nuster's laughter.

"I think that's the case, your stubborn old man used to be very romantic. Hey, after this battle, I want to take a back seat like your father. "Chief Nuster's conversation with Chief Bob was interrupted by a halfling thrower. He stretched his waist and straightened his chest, his expression suddenly became solemn, "Bobu, put your people in order, King Monta XII is coming." ”

The brightly armored dwarven guard flanked Monta XII, dressed in full costume and riding on a ridiculous pony dressed like a foal fed in a circus in the Trian world.

Monta XII proudly stroked his crooked mustache, his eyes purring, as if waiting for the greeting of his subordinates.

"His Majesty King Estom Monta, King of Monta XII, the Celtic tribe of Havrinburg has mobilized 1,500 Havrin stone bombers for you at your command, and is now waiting for your review outside the majestic Iron Fist Castle!" Chief Nuster, though small in stature, stood as straight as a snowy pine.

"His Majesty King Estorum of the Glorious Monta XII, the Winterte tribe of Porto Havalo has mobilized 1,500 tribal warriors, the Wintert Dwarven warriors, to fight at your direction." Bob was a large man, and he removed the tomahawk from his waist and shielded his chest in greeting Monta XII, his iron-clad body looking like a round ball of iron on the snow.

Satisfied with the courtesy and comfort of his courtiers, Monta XII squinted his eyes and nodded, responding to the spirited chiefs of the tribe with the grace of a king, and rode slowly towards the chiefs of Bob and Nuster, surrounded by the guards, the gold coins in his pockets hanging from his waist clanging.

"Long time no see, my venerable chiefs Nuster and Bob. It's really reassuring to see you both in good health. Monta XII sprang from his dwarf horse to the ground, and then pointed to the dignified, well-dressed dwarf at the head of the guard.

The gold-rimmed royal fanged helmet was topped with a white tassel that almost hung down to the ground, the face of the helmet was as broad as a full moon, the eyes of the tiger and leopard were thick eyebrows like a shrub stretching out from the branches, and the most distinctive thing was the orange beard hanging down from the chest. The forge-heavy armor he wore was outlined with a rectangular texture with Mithril, and the legendary battle axe of the Al Ain Dynasty, the Hart Hero Axe, was pinned to his waist.

Among the guards, this young orange-bearded dwarf immediately impressed the two tribal chiefs in front of the dwarven king.

"As you can see, this gentleman behind me is my new captain of the guard, my niece Rocky Monta, and my dear brother, the second son of Macron, Prince of the Mountains." Monta XII raised an eyebrow at the two chiefs.

"I've heard your thunderous name, Orangebeard's Loki." Bob and Nustere greet in unison.

"Loki Ayn Monta salutes your two esteemed chiefs." Rocky Monta immediately opened his arms and embraced the halfling chieftain Nuster, who was like the old macaque, and then the Wintert chieftain Bob.

"Haha, what a good young man, look, Bobu, how can anyone call me old and stubborn at the first time I meet you. Well, the Nusterl and Celtic stone throwers will have your back! Nusterl laughed and lifted the slinging in his hand.

"Winter's tomahawk walks with you." Bob patted the handle of the tomahawk hanging from his waist.

Loki Monta stood with the two tribal chiefs and respectfully faced their king, Monta XII, "Oh oh! It's good, it's good, and I feel relaxed and happy to see such a harmonious scene. Rocky Ayn Monta is my nephew, and he is a newcomer to the stone house, and though he is as strong as a calf, I hope that the two chiefs will be able to guide my brother well. Monta XII walked up to the three leaders in front of him, "I await your triumph at Yafen, and at that time I will prepare 1,000 jars of snow spirits for you to celebrate your exploits!" ”

"Your Majesty, King Estom of Monta XII, we will honor the Al Ain dynasty, and our weapons will always stand up for you!" The three of them replied in unison, "Trust us, the glorious deeds of the dwarves will spread in the realm of mankind, and your decision will make your name engraved on the glorious stone statue forever." Like your glorious ancestors: Munta the Great and Somra the Great. ”

"My nephew, make good use of the thousand elite dwarven warriors I have given you, they are all my well-trained guards! If you have any doubts in your heart when you are approaching the battle formation, please consult with the two chiefs and elders immediately before making a decision! Be wary of the Earl of Caveni, Culosius, and beware of him letting our troops be pawns he can give up at any moment! We dwarves are not stupid even though we are on the border of the Talk continent! Monta XII then walked up to Loki's side, whispering to him the little calculations he had in mind, until he had personally handed over a thousand guards to his nephew, and he felt even more uneasy in his heart, and he put his hand in the ornate money pocket pinned to his waist and touched the cold gold, as if only the jingle of gold coins could temporarily ease his uneasiness.

"There are also 350 dwarven warriors and 350 halfling throwers on standby, and I have sent a messenger Wolbery, with the wolfskin paper engraved by me, to inform the guard of Shanyan Pass that Endorf is ready and arrange supplies, and you will take the two chiefs and the army to Shanyan Pass to meet him and then march to Yafenburg, and once the crisis of Yafen is resolved, return to Ain with our army immediately! Loki, Bob, Nuster, do you understand? As soon as the question of the source of soldiers was mentioned or the question of money was brought to mind, Monta XII's expression became quite serious.

"Understood, Your Majesty!" Loki gripped the handle of Hart's heroic axe, Bob covered his chest with his axe and nodded, and Nuster's legs folded and he stood up straight, looking straight at the confused sky in the white mist.

"Go, I and your ancestor Ayn Monta, Somla Monta will be with you!" Monta XII jumped back on the colorful pony he was wearing, he pulled the reins with one hand, and with the other he kept touching the tinkling gold coin in his pocket, the gold coin was warm by his touch, his palms were full of sweat, he gritted his teeth, and took out a steaming gold coin from his pocket, the gold coin flashed with a strange light, and immediately took away his tangled soul, the corners of his mouth raised a satisfied smile, and then carefully put the gold coin into the gorgeous money pocket again, he looked at Arnault, who had already been prepared, Deliberately riding past him on a pony, "Your Excellency the Baron of the Great Terrans, I have kept my promise. ”