Time passed silently, and Frerell touched the battlements in front of him with his left hand, and unhurriedly explained the contents of the shout to the soldier beside him with half of his cheek sideways.

Frerell looked calm, and the words came out of his mouth through the lingua franca familiar to human ears. The half-elf poet's tone was not overtly oppressive, but the soldier standing next to the poet felt as if a thousand-pound burden was on his shoulders after listening to what he was about to shout to the bottom of the castle.

But an order is an order after all. After a while, the aristocratic private soldier with a few drops of sweat faintly dripping from the corner gritted his teeth, then turned around, looked down at the crowd below the city condescendingly, took a deep breath and shouted: "The untouchables below—"

As soon as he shouted this voice, the crowd gathered under the tower immediately raised their heads and turned their attention to him.

The hundreds of glances that swept together made the soldier on the city tower who shouted so frightened that he swallowed back the words that followed. The soldier hesitated for a second, then turned his head to look at the half-elf poet Frell beside him, then turned his head back and continued to shout downward, "Untouchables below, prick up your lowly ears and listen!" The merciful Baron Singel has decreed that if you pathetic pig brains remember the meekness and obedience that the lowly people ought to show to the nobles, all of them shall leave here within five minutes, and your lords will not heed your irrational offense to-night. In five minutes, if anyone is still standing under this wall, crossbows and arrows will be the best answer for you! ”

In the soldier's mind, although there was nothing inappropriate about this passage, it sounded like Freel had specially designed it to anger the crowd downstairs in the city.

As soon as the words fell, the soldier's voice was like a weighty stone crashing into a pool of water. Hearing the shouts from the city tower, the people below the city suddenly exploded, everyone turned their heads left and right to look at the people around them in a little panic, opened their mouths to discuss, and more or less retreated in their hearts, but because they were not sure what the attitude of other people was, they were in a dilemma.

When most of the crowd began to hesitate and gradually felt that it might be the right thing to do, Randy, a young man who had been strongly opposed to backing down from the beginning, immediately shouted at the crowd again, "Do you hear that?" Look at the faces of these big people, their clumsy and unruly conduct is always so unreasonable, but they are too high, don't you have a little humiliation and anger in your hearts? ”

The young man's questioning silenced the people.

At least on the shores of the St. Fern Sea, no one who has been brought up by the local culture of this region is born willing to show weakness, and no one is born willing to let others ride on their heads. However, under the coercion of power and armed violence, the dignity of blood often needs and must be tested by reason.

"Uncle Clonde!" Angered by the silence, Randy is disappointed and turns his gaze to his uncle.

"That's enough, Randy!" It's just that it's not as Randy wants, and Crowne responds to Randy's attitude not in agreement, but in the form of an elder-style scolding, "This farce should be over." The Baron is the nobleman of the kingdom and the de jure lord who rules over us...... Maybe we were wrong in the first place. ”

With that, the look of shame and reluctance was forcibly removed from his face, and Clonde, holding his torch-holding arm, turned his back to Randy, preparing to take a step away in the direction of going back.

Moved by Kronde, the crowd gathered under the city wavered. When a group finds itself in a dilemma, the first leader to emerge from the team is often able to form a potential leadership and influence over the rest of the team, especially if the leader is acting in line with the conservative beliefs of the team.

In this way, people's hearts began to waver, and this vacillation soon turned into an excuse for weakness. Crowne turned his back to his nephew and took a step back, and the rest of the strong man's side prepared to go back to their respective homes, and the impulse for the night was over.

But at that moment, in the direction that the people turned to look, a vague figure appeared in the night at the end of the road when they came. With the help of the light of the torches, it didn't take long for the vague figure to become clear in people's vision, and slowly approached the people, so that the crowd gathered below could begin to see the outfit and appearance of the comer.

"It's the squire of the Baron Torrenster." After a while, through the memories of the day, someone in the crowd recognized Raymond.

Raymond walked alone from a distance towards the crowd and the Baron's Castle, wearing an ordinary linen shirt with a bloodstained bandage wrapped in his open chest, and a curved sword in his left hand that had been returned to its scabbard, and two uncontrollable flames of anger burning in his eyes, making people want to shrink their necks when they looked at him from a distance.

Walking into the crowd with the fury in his eyes, Raymond looked straight ahead with an expressionless face. The group of civilians in Boñigs in front of him looked at each other, and then tacitly pushed them in both directions, making way for Raymond to lead to the Baron's Castle.

Continuing on, crossing a path that had been made way between people, a teenager named Randy stood at the end of the crowd and refused to get out of the way. The boy, who looked like he was about fifteen or sixteen years old, gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and looked up at Raymond who was walking in front of him step by step. Seeing his nephew uninterestingly in front of Raymond, Clonde blinked and immediately squeezed out of the crowd in an attempt to force Randy away.

But Raymond was a little faster on his feet. The strong man was just about to stretch out his hand to his nephew, when the future Juggernaut had already walked up to the young man with anger and reluctance written on his face, lowered his gaze and met the latter's eyes.

Standing in front of Randy, Raymond looked at the young man who was not yet an official adult, raised his head to look at the soldiers who were also carrying torches on the castle tower, and the baron's castle that stood in the dark night, and then lowered his eyes and asked Randy, "Is Singler inside?" ”

"Squire, he's just a child." Fearing that his nephew would be involved in some accident, Clonde hurriedly trotted past Raymond, leaned down and pulled up Randy's fist that was clenched like a stone, and turned back to face Raymond with a reluctant and pandering smile.

Randy looked at Raymond to answer something, but Crowne reached out in time to cover his mouth, and Raymond immediately heard a few protests from the young man's mouth, and the slightly noisy whispers of others around him.

"You're here to settle accounts with that brute, too?" Raymond looked around, looked at the group of people, and asked casually.

The young swordsman's questioning made people fall silent for a moment, but through the observation of the next series of reactions of the crowd, Raymond guessed something in his heart, although his ability to observe words and colors was slightly dull.

Then, he squinted at the young man named Randy, and then reached out to Clonde, who was holding Randy sideways with his right arm, and demanded, "I'm Lord Baron Torrenst's squire, give me torches." (To be continued.) )