Arold looked at the so-called soldiers in front of him, all of them of different ages, some old men who had lost more teeth than they still existed, and some of the stupid hairy boys, some of the recruited peasants were bare-headed and snorting in the cold wind, some were wearing felt hats that smelled strangely, and looked at Sir Wendell and his sons on horseback with different expressions, the old man looked dull and numb, and the young man looked excited and uneasy.

"Father, this is?" Arold pointed to the twelve farmers in front of him, and asked Sir Wendell in confusion.

"Yes, we can gather twelve armed light infantry." Sir Wendell did not answer Arrod's question directly, he kicked the horse under his crotch with his legs, moved forward, and circled around the twelve restless farmers.

"Light infantry?" Arold's jaw was almost dropping when he heard this, and the twelve yellow-skinned peasants in front of him, their clothes were tattered and their feet were not wearing shoes, but they were wrapped in filthy linen, and their movements were slow and stiff, and this was actually the soldier in the mouth of his father Sir Wendell, which was too far from the image of the powerful medieval infantry in Arold's heart.

"What's wrong?" Sir Wendell asked in confusion when he saw his youngest son, Arrode, with a stunned face.

"But father, they don't even have decent weapons?" Arold stretched out his right hand and pointed at these militiamen, it is true that these people are empty-handed, how can they go into battle to kill the enemy?

"Oh, yes, how many more spears do we have?" Sir Wendell listened to Arrod's words, nodded and felt that it did make sense, Duke Mason's feudal decree stipulated that the soldiers and light infantry brought by the vassals must bring their own weapons, and if they did not have weapons, they would only be treated as miscellaneous servants rather than soldiers.

"Only five of the spears in our arsenal have been repaired and can be used." Arold spread out his hand and said, he had indeed tried his best, but his family was too poor, and the entire arsenal could only find five broken spears.

"Hmm." Sir Wendell frowned as he looked at the twelve farmers in front of him, he had already borrowed heavily to prepare for this expedition, and he really couldn't afford to spend any more money on the weapons and equipment of the soldiers.

"Why are you in such trouble?" Yves rode forward impatiently, his tall stature and fierce expression made the farmers cry out and retreat like frightened fawns, only to see Yves stand up from his steed with his legs outstretched, he looked up at the crowd below, and continued loudly, "Whoever has been in the battle, stand in the front row." ”

As soon as Ive's words fell, the peasants crowded from the back to the front, counting exactly six people, and except for an old man with gray hair, the other five were all in the prime of life with a fierce face.

"Well, yes, these people are indeed good men who have fought a few battles with me." Sir Wendell nodded in satisfaction, his chin touching the silver cross pendant under his neck with a loud and crisp sound.

"Give the spears to these good men, and the others will go home and get the pitchforks and sticks." Yves waved his hand and turned his face to Arrod.

"But the spear is not enough." Arold looked at the six people, but he only had five spears in his hands, and it was still a question of who to give them to.

"Except for him." Yves pointed his hand at the gray-haired old man, and rode away without looking back, he had enough of these trivial things, and wanted to have fun in the tavern before leaving his hometown.

"For what? Just because he's an old man? "Arrod didn't understand what Yves meant, could it be that because he was an old man, he didn't even give him a weapon?

"Yves is right, that old man's name is Chodo, and everyone calls him Coward Chodo." Sir Wendell leaned down and whispered in Arold's ear.

"Coward Chodo?" Arod was a little curious, he turned his head to look at the farmers who had gone to get their weapons, and old Jodo seemed to understand that Yves had chosen to go home with the others bowed his head and silently.

"Yes, he has fought with me before, and has participated in almost every battle, but he has been unscathed, and he is always nowhere to be found whenever the battle is at its most intense." Sir Wendell sighed, he looked at the back of old Jodo, in fact, he could not have participated in this battle, but there were not enough manpower, and old Jodo strongly requested, Sir Wendell reluctantly agreed.

Sir Wendell's words made Arold very curious, if he was a coward, why should he insist on joining the war, this contradiction made Arold puzzled, maybe everyone has his own reasons, and Arold can only pray for his fate at this time.

"Arrod, my son, come and follow me to the tavern." After arranging the soldiers' affairs, Sir Wendell was in a very good mood, and he beckoned Arold to the tavern in the territory, which was a tattered wooden house, the door was made of old wooden bars nailed together, and above the door hung a sign with beer mugs painted on it, and the wooden door could not be closed, and there was always a gap, through which the noise inside the tavern was revealed, and when the wooden door was pushed open, a heat wave different from the cold outside.

"This is a medieval tavern?" Arold stood behind Sir Wendell, and saw that it was crowded with all kinds of people, some with swords on their bodies, and fat maids in aprons crowded among them, and from time to time made exclamations, it was someone who stretched out his groping hand to sneak up on her sensitive parts, and whenever someone succeeded, there was always a noisy and rough laughter around her, so to speak, this is a world full of all kinds of vulgarities of men.

"Come on, come on." A group of people gathered around a wooden table, two strong men wrestling wrists in the center of them, beer glasses around them, Arjod recognized that it was his pesky big brother Yves sitting on the left, and Yves was playing against a bald man in leather armor, their competition was at its most critical moment, both blushing and exerting all their might, and the muscles on their arms were rising lumps of flesh.

"Oh, Yves is going to have a match." Sir Wendell asked for two beers, handed one to Arold and commented as he drank it, slightly surprised that there was still someone in his own territory who could fight his son to a draw.

"He's armed with him." Arold saw a long sword pinned to the bald man's waist, and the big man's hideous expression made Arold a little worried that the other party would draw the sword and rise, because Yve's usual harshness did not stop even when he wrestled his wrist.

"Yes, it turned out to be a mercenary, it's a pity that we could hire him if we had extra money." Sir Wendell drank his beer, which was probably not fermented enough, and Arrold drank it like cat urine, and he had to push most of it to his father.

"Hey, you don't have the strength to breastfeed, foreigner, did you a woman last night? Ha Luha, I'm about to win. Yves glared at the bald man in front of him and said with a grin.

"Phew, the nest can be hard, damn it." The bald man shouted angrily, but his foreign accent made everyone around him laugh, which made him even more angry, and his face turned red.

"Hey, it's British." The last word of the bald man is said in his own native language, Arrod's eyes lit up, this guy turned out to be an Englishman, but England is separated by an English Channel, how could he run to the interior of the Holy Roman Empire in this place where transportation is not developed.

Just when Arrod was puzzled, Yves poured the bald man's handboard on the table and won the victory, and the people around him cheered in support of his countryman to win, and the bald man was angry but helpless.

"Alright, now it's your turn to pay." Yves scooped up the cup on the table, tilted his head and drank the beer inside, then said to the bald man.

"There's no money." The bald man sat down in his chair with a snort, drank his beer and said to Ive, and the people around him fell silent, they looked at Ive, who was known for his rough temper in this territory, and even Arold couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Oh? No money? Are you looking for death? Yve's eyes narrowed, he felt that he had been fooled, and his hand was unconsciously placed on his waist, while the bald man's eyes were staring at Yve, the muscles on his body were tense, and a slightly immature voice sounded when he saw that a bloody crime was about to happen here.

"Please wait a minute." Arold walked between the two, and he looked at his brother and then at the mercenary from England.

"Get out of the way, Arrod, or I'll let you take the wound with you." Yves scolded rudely, but Arold knew that he wouldn't do anything because their father was beside him, and sure enough, Yve's hand relaxed.

"Ni Yao Ga Shenma?" The bald man frowned and looked at Arrod who had inserted in, he had no acquaintances in this remote village, and the boy in front of him didn't seem to know him at all.

"Why would my brother kill for a gambling contract?" Arold said to Eves calmly.

"What's your business, tell you that no one can owe me a debt to my husband, and if this stinky stranger doesn't give me money, don't think about getting out alive today." With a wave of his hand, Yves pushed the crowded bystanders to the ground and said in a brutal manner.

"The nest is not pumped." The stranger shook his head, sniffed himself with his nose, and retorted.

"Well, don't you really have any money, a foreigner?" Arrod thought for a moment, turned his head and asked the bald man.

"Beauty, it's knotted." The stranger said in an awkward Shinra dialect, and even the comparison and painting made people understand that when he was following the caravan, he met a robber and was penniless except for his own escape, and the remaining money was only enough to drink a few glasses of inferior beer.