Sir Wendell held the shield in his hand, he couldn't believe his eyes, the leather strap was cleverly woven to fit the human hand, and the stronger triangular structure made it difficult for the shield to slide on the arm, and the two small iron rings buckled the top of the leather, and if you changed someone, the leather strap could be freely retracted. Sir Wendell placed his shield on his arm, trying to simulate a fight with an enemy, and because it was placed in the right position on his arm and hand, it was extra light and convenient.

"My son, I never knew that you still had this talent." Sir Wendell said to Arold in surprise, but at this time, Arold was attracted by the various weapons in the arsenal and did not hear Sir Wendell's words.

"The weapons here are awesome." Arrod's eyes almost glowed, he had played with a lot of modern electrical appliances, but the boy had not thought of more attractive cold weapons, and here, this dusty arsenal contained all kinds of weapons, but they were very worn, and some were even damaged.

"yes, they used to be." Sir Wendell looked around, there was a bow made of birch hanging on the wall, but the bowstring was broken, the bow body was bent, and there was a rusty mace leaning against the corner of the wall, which seemed to fall rust when he shook it, and a few spears, the tips of which were still curved, but the shafts of the spears were not bad, and Sir Wendell was going to use them to arm his peasant servants, and other bits and pieces were piled at their feet.

"If these things are repaired, they should be very good weapons." Arold glanced at Sir Wendell, his unquenchable desire for skill was already pouring out, and his eyes were full of fanaticism.

"Ah, well, if you're interested, what a strange child, it's the key to hold, although we don't have anything to throw away, but it's a tradition to lock up the arsenal." Sir Wendell took a deep look at Arrod, untied a key from his waist, handed the heavy bronze key into Arold's hand, and turned away with the shield that Arold had repaired.

The Middle Ages in Europe was not the era that everyone in the Celestial Empire aspired to, not only the conditions were harsh, dirty, but also boring, and although sometimes there were some wandering lame wandering entertainers who passed through this small remote village to perform, but this was only when the county capital was in the middle of the more grand festivals. Arrod, a young man whose soul has experienced the modern entertainment of the 21st century, has long been tortured and is on the verge of madness, but now he has found his own pleasure in his own family arsenal, which has accumulated over the generations, and has accumulated a variety of weapons, from the javelin heads of the Romans in distant times, to the tomahawks carried by Viking warriors, and the spear and horse pistol, a common weapon used in the Middle Ages.

"Arod has nothing to do, he spends all day in the arsenal and doesn't know what Lu Dao is up to?" Arold's mother, Mrs. Wendell, said with some concern to her eldest son and her husband that she thought that Arold, who was tinkling in the arsenal every day, was a little insane, which made her very worried, so she saved a little money from her family and bought a white candle from a traveling merchant to pray for the blessing of Our Lady at the shrine outside the village.

"I can't rest every day, and if no one stops him, I'll go in and pull him out like a puppy." Yves shouted loudly, his cheeks flushed, and the smell of inferior ale in his mouth, his massive body stumbling and stumbling, the noise ringing through the cramped house.

"Let him go, maybe Arold has some talent that surprises us." Sir Wendell was sitting at the table, holding a quill pen and writing something on a precious piece of parchment, Madame Wendell was proud of her husband's ability to write, although literacy itself was a skill that nobles had to learn, but most nobles preferred to leave it to the clergy, but Sir Wendell knew that he was able to read and hyphenate because of the teaching of Sermea, the wife of the old Duke of Mason. He had just become a squire, and Madame de Sermeya was always holding a small stick to force him to read, which in retrospect may have been a little amusement that the lady had found in the boring life of the castle, but the two of them had found a lot of pleasure between the beds.

"My dear, are you really going to borrow money from that greedy Jew?" Wendell's wife frowned as her husband sealed the letter with a candle and then stamped his coat of arms with a ring, a loan agreement.

"Yes, I'm going to buy some equipment for Arrod too, and I'll take him with me in this battle." Sir Wendell flipped the rolled parchment in his hand, and after Arold had repaired his shield, he thought it would be a good idea to bring a son who could repair weapons, at least to save a fortune on the repair.

"But there must always be a man left in the house." Mrs. Wendell grabbed a piece of linen with her fingers, war is something men always have to face, and as a woman has no right to intervene, but she always felt that her little Arold was not yet ready to fight, so she thought about it and offered a reason that she felt was reasonable.

"He is already an attendant, an adult, and he should have been sent to the Duke of Mason or some earl's house to serve, but our family really can't afford this money to delay, but it is the same to fulfill the obligation for the Duke when he goes to the battlefield." After Sir Wendell finished speaking, he pursed his lips and looked at Eve, who was asleep on the table, he stood up and walked to his wife's side and comforted, "Don't worry, Arold is only following as a servant, and will not go to the battlefield, at most he will help us lead the horse and deliver weapons." ”

"May the Lord bless you." Mrs. Wendell leaned against her husband and muttered to herself.

Arold didn't know that his father was planning to take him to the battlefield, he was repairing a bow and arrow, the curved bow had become much straighter at this time, if you find some grease to soak it will become more tough, but unfortunately the material of the bow is not good enough, if you can find the purple shirt, Arold is confident to build an English longbow. Satisfied, Arrod felt a little hungry in his stomach, and he remembered that it was time for lunch, so he locked the arsenal and went into the house.

When Arold stuffed his mouth with apples, he heard his father let him go to war, and when he heard the news, he almost choked to death with a mouth full of apple flesh, if that he was simply the worst traverser to die, to be honest, although there were peasant fights and brawls from time to time in his father's domain, but on the whole it was very peaceful, because of Sir Wendell's personal prestige and wide range of friends, so even robbers rarely came here. However, Arold privately thought that the village was too poor to be robbed by robbers.

"But, but I don't know how to fight at all, ahem." Arold stuffed his fingers into his mouth, pulled out the apple flesh, and barely escaped, he thought that war is always far away from the otaku, of course, it may be very cool when he cares about lewdness, but it is really his turn to go to the battlefield, to be honest, Arold does not know if he can survive the first round of attacks.

"Don't worry, you just serve as our logistics and take care of the servants." Sir Wendell didn't even lift his eyes, he had so much to do on his hands that his money should be enough to cover the cost of a battle.

"Okay, okay." Arold thought about it, after all, he was in a dark era of war, and it was not a good way to always dodge, and maybe it would be a good thing to see a real war.

For the rest of the day, Arold joined in the preparations for war, and he did not expect that war would be such a trivial and boring affair, that he had to wipe down his brother's weapons and put them on a cart drawn by packs, with long pistols, a javelin, bows and arrows, shields, etc., and their dry rations were prepared by their mother herself, dried apples, berries, sausages, and hard black bread like stones.

"Arold, this is a mount for you." One day, when Arold was exhausted from his busy work, his father, Sir Wendell, came up to him with a strange-looking long-haired horse, the horse's coat was a dirty gray, and the long fur on its head almost covered its eyes, and the long-haired horse's left hind leg seemed to have some problems.

"This is a horse?" Arold glanced at the tall and handsome war horse under Eve's crotch, glanced at the short long-haired horse beside him, and opened his mouth to stare at his father.

"That's right, although you are a squire, but you are a nobleman, you can't walk like a lowly servant, this is your weapon." Sir Wendell handed Arold a curved jujube spear, which had fresh green bark, which must have been hastily made, but fortunately the tip of the spear was at least iron.

"Can't you give me a straight spear?" Knowing that any protest he had made was ineffective, Arrod could only resign himself to picking up the crooked spear, and could only mumble discontentedly on his lips.

"Ha Luha, isn't that for you, Hairy Monster Knight." Ivhar laughed and mocked his brother,

After being knocked down by Arold in the woods, although Sir Wendell strictly forbade Yves to attack his brother, Yves did his best to sarcastically mock Arold in front of everyone whenever he found an opportunity, and Arold completely ignored his words.