The Germanic forests were terrifying, and the once glorious legions of the Roman Empire were defeated by the Germans in the Teutoburg Forest, and the Romans knew the bloodthirstiness of the Germanic people from that time, and when the Romans recalled the dense dark forest with no sky overhead, they felt a chill from the bottom of their hearts. The Germanic warriors, with their faces painted in black stripes, naked bodies, and sharp tomahawks in their hands, rushed out of the jungle from nowhere, often bringing unbearable blood to the Romans.

Many years later, in this land full of dense forests, the hated Roman Empire was solemnly taken over by the Germanic people, and the people who also had the blood of the Germanic people in their veins fought hard in this forest, and the blood will water the land where they grew up.

"Rustle~~~." A group of soldiers cautiously shuttled through the forest, at the forefront was a swordsman with a sharp sword, wearing leather armor, embroidered with the coat of arms of a certain family, looking like a poor knight, walking behind him were two sergeants with nervous expressions and spears, behind the sergeant were three archers with arrows and bows, and at the back were five light infantry, which was an outpost with a reconnaissance nature in terms of personnel.

"Be careful, we're approaching the Saxophone camp." The poor knight with the sword crouched down, turned his head and said to his companions.

"Damn mosquitoes." A sergeant cursed and reached out and slapped his face, a blood-sucking mosquito was flattened, and the blood remained on his face, and the mosquitoes in this dense forest gathered and made a humming sound, and it was annoying to see someone coming.

"Whoosh~~~." Suddenly, a white light flew out of the bushes, straight over the head of the crouching poor knight, and slashed into the sergeant's face, and the sergeant's hat and helmet were slashed.

"What's wrong?" The others watched in horror as a short-handled throwing axe split the sergeant's face in half, blood pouring out of the wound and splashing on the sergeant's clothes and the poor knight's leather armor.

"Wow~~~." At the moment when the throwing axe killed a sergeant, from the dense jungle, several hideous axe-wielding warriors, wearing leather long-eared hats, linen jackets often worn by peasants, holding round shields in one hand and tomahawks in the other, rushed into the outpost ranks, brandishing tomahawks and letting out terrifying roars.

"It's a Saxon, don't be afraid, the archers shoot." The poor knight swung his sword away from a tall tomahawker, and he commanded the others as he fended with his sword.

"Ahh Suddenly the forest that had just been calm was filled with the sound of human fighting, and the soldier with a tomahawk had just cut down a sergeant when his body was shot by an archer's arrow, which was very lethal at close range, and although the archers of the Duchy of Mason were not as famous as the English, they were also highly trained, and every arrow could take the life of a Saxon.

"The Saxons are coming from behind." Just as the two sides were entangled together, from the flank and rear of Lord Mason's soldiers, a group of strange warriors appeared, dressed in chain mail, with crosses embroidered on the outside of the chain mail, helmets on their heads like the hat of the bishop in the church, they were tall and majestic in one hand and warhammer in the other, and they rushed quickly with a steady pace.

"It's not good, it's the Nordic Order, defend quickly." The poor, well-informed knights immediately recognized that these were the bishops from the icy and snowy lands of Northern Europe, who were not mere prayers, but mighty warriors in battle armor and armed with war hammers.

"Wow~~~." Seeing that the archers were trying to shoot to hinder their progress, the Nordic bishops immediately lifted the shield in their left hand in front of them, and the arrows were shot at the shield, and the bishops still charged forward, looking at the Norse bishops who were getting closer and closer, the well-trained archers on weekdays, not only were they in a hurry, but the momentary hesitation was enough for the Nordic bishops to get closer, once the rudimentary weapons of the close-quarters light infantry were not in their eyes at all, the Nordic bishops picked up their war hammers and slammed them on the heads of the light infantry, Blood splattered from the shattered teeth, and a wail of pain rang out.

The screams rang out one after another, penetrating the sky above the forest, startling a flock of crows hovering in the sky, looking at the impermeable forest in front of him, the Duke of Saxony showed a serious look, and he felt a trace of incongruity.

"Don't worry, Lord Duke, my bishops will send these Masons to hell." The Countess of Woolfhild stepped forward, thinking that the Duke of Saxony was worried about the unfavorable situation of the war, so she comforted her by saying that she had great confidence in the group of Nordic bishops under her command.

"Don't you feel strange? Woolf Hilde. The Duke of Saxony stared at the forest in front of him, and said to the Countess of Woolfhilde without looking back.

"What duke?" The Countess of Woolfhild did not know what the Duke of Saxony meant, but she knew that the Duke, who had fought all his life, must have something to say.

"Duke Mason came with a heavy army, why didn't he put all his forces into a decisive battle with me, but just used these small outpost tricks, this is not like his doing?" The Duke of Saxony spoke his doubts to the vassal, and he instinctively felt a sense of being calculated.

"That's right, it's really strange, it is said that there is a big difference in the number of enemy and enemy forces, but Duke Mason has been delaying a decisive battle with us, there must be a trap in it, but I don't know what they want to do?" Riding on her horse, the Countess of Woolfhild also looked in the direction of the Duke of Mason, who had placed his base camp in a triangular area surrounded by a stream that was surrounded by a moat, an easy and difficult area to defend.

"Tonight, take a few men with me to the camp near Duke Mason." The Duke of Saxony was a man who had to do what he thought of, and he said calmly to the Countess of Woolfhilde, and then turned his horse and headed towards his camp.

"Quack~~." By this time the battle in the forest was over, and the crows in the sky swooped down into the forest, and in the dense forest the corpses lay on their feet, with severed limbs and broken human brains all over the ground, and the crows jumped happily between the corpses, pecking at the fresh human flesh with their sharp birds.

"Defeated again?" In Duke Mason's camp, the nobles were surprised to hear the light cavalry report, in several skirmish battles in a week, Duke Mason's men barely took the slightest advantage, the Saxons were unusually brave and more accustomed to fighting in small groups, and the vassals under Duke Mason often returned home even if they sent elites, which made the nobles of Mason, who were still full of confidence, feel troubled and glad that they did not launch a decisive battle.

"It doesn't matter, Sir Abel and Count Lausziz will make a smooth detour behind the back of the Saxons, and then it will not be too late for us to line up for a decisive battle, and now a small setback should be just a little sweetness for the Saxons."

"Shut up, this plan must not be known to the Saxons, and no one is allowed to mention it outside this tent." Duke Mason's stern gaze stopped the unscrupulous nobleman, and warned the nobles not to divulge the plan, because if the Saxons knew about it, something would inevitably happen, so the key to the success of the plan was to keep it secret.

At night, when the moon hung in the sky, the bonfires in the camp were like stars, and the soldiers of Duke Mason leaned on the campfires to keep warm with each other, and the boring marching career made the soldiers have little entertainment, they could only brag to each other or exchange combat experience next to the campfire, in order to avoid the soldiers being distracted, even the prostitutes who followed the duke's army were also driven far away from the camp, and only a small part of the soldiers could only have permission to have fun every day.

"Hey, this knight, look at this, a hair of the Virgin Mary, carrying it with you will surely bring good luck." A chubby merchant holds a small box and pulls an elderly knight wearing chain mail wrapped in a cloak on the outside of the chain mail, and tries to sell his so-called holy relics.

"Oh? Are you sure it's the Virgin's hair? The old knight's beard was pale, and his strong hand grasped the merchant's arm that held the small box, and asked in a mocking tone.

"Oh, oh, of course, of course, if you're not interested, then don't bother you, sir." The merchant who sold the fake relics nodded in horror when he was caught, but it was actually just his wife's hair, which was sold as a holy relic in a small box.

"Hmph." The old knight let go of his hand with a look of disdain, and strode forward, followed by two young squires, one of whom had a bulging chest and an unexpectedly handsome face, which attracted the attention of some of the prostitutes, who sneered at the young handsome squire.

"Hey, handsome gentleman, would you like to go and have some fun, my tent is not far away." A prostitute in a long green dress approached the knight's squire with a prodigal laugh, and she pulled her already low neckline to reveal half of her breasts, smiling in an attempt to seduce the young squire.

"No, beauty, I still have things to follow my master, and if I'm lazy, I'll be whipped." The young squire smiled and showed his snow-white teeth, and he gently turned his body away from the prostitute and continued to walk forward.

"Hmph, it's really disappointing, it can't be that he and his master are a pair of ** criminals." The prostitute didn't get any business, and cursed angrily, but soon she was attracted to the other men and stopped looking at the strange knights.

"Woolfhild, this is the closest place to Duke Mason's camp." The old knight, who turned out to be the Duke of Saxony, walked to the edge of the camp of profiteers, prostitutes, and miscellaneous servants, a few hundred meters from the Duke of Mason's camp, and was the closest thing to observe.