Women are talking about men, and men are talking about women.

The Norman kings of the Highlands were large and ugly, and almost all of the buildings were made of a pockmarked yellow rock masonry. Because the second king of the Highlands Norman was only the son of a northern tribal chieftain, he was not long-term or critical. So in the beginning, after he put on his own iron crown, clothed himself in orc fur, held a spear soaked in the blood of the enemy, and proclaimed himself king in the presence of the tribe's children and priests, his palace was only a castle abandoned by his original master—by that time the first king of the Normans of the Highlands had occupied a small part of the Northlands, most of which were deserted peaks and mountains, but there were also many cities and towns abandoned by their lords because they were unable to fight the orcs. In the eyes of a chief's son, a stone castle was much better than a cowhide tent, and although he and his people were a little unaccustomed to living in one place, it was tall and safe, not swept away by strong winds or crushed by snow, and it had many rooms.

That being the case, you should not expect him to value the dispensable luxuries and ornaments, although some of them do make the user feel comfortable and happy - unfortunately, like the first lords of Thundercastle, their allegiance to the king was a true pauper, and they even sold the castle windows (the ones inlaid with glass) and the tapestries that covered the window openings to the merchants, and instead sealed them with wooden planks; The squires lived with their dogs and horses in their rooms, the floor and walls were bare, there were no beds or tables, only a few wooden boxes for storage, and in the hall on the ground floor there was a bonfire with pots hanging from it, and the ministers sat on the floor, and only under the noble buttocks of the priests could they have the privilege of having many hides.

This continued until more and more outcasts, fugitive slaves, adventurers, and merchants poured into the Highlands - they farmed, they gathered, they hunted, they dug, they traded...... It brought real taxes and revenues to the Norman kings of the Highlands, but also jealousy and greed - for a time, the Norman soldiers and knights of the Highlands had to fight not only against the orcs, but also against the nobles and princes who wanted to regain their territory and take more captivity. Because of this, when the king needed to expand, the unreliable grass, mud, wood, and semi-earth were immediately excluded from the choice, and the king did not hesitate to pick up a stone from the Dragon's Back Mountains and chose the most practical architectural style - in short, he repaired his castle and built more forts on the perimeter of the castle, and then connected them with walls - even the houses where servants and slaves lived.

These buildings were either cuboids or cylinders, dull and boring, the yellow-brown facades were smooth and monotonous, there was not a single line or bump that existed only for decoration, the roofs were covered in blue-gray iron, there were no windows, only arm-length square holes for light and ventilation, and there were no sculptures - except for the gargoyles that stood at the top of the ridges, they were magical, and when necessary, they would take off to attack the enemy at the behest of the caster. The roads in the city were narrow and rugged, iron gates and drawbridges were everywhere, and trees within the royal capital and within a hundred miles were cut down to prevent them from being used by the enemy to make siege equipment and build camps.

Although the Norman lords and knights of the Highlands had now advanced their domains and armies farther afield, and the royal capital was no longer constantly threatened by the enemy, the king's will was completely inherited, and the royal capital after three expansions still looked like a large fortress complex with a complex structure, rather than a palace or mansion. There were attempts to renovate these forts, such as larger and more elaborate doors and windows, winding verandahs, or terraces and bridges that extended outward, but the king harshly rebuked them and demanded that they be restored to their original state immediately - the fortress-like buildings were dark and cold, dreary and cramped, so that the Norman nobles hundreds of years later preferred to live in the comfort and luxury of the outer city, and of course, the "fortress" of the royal capital The mansion is still carefully preserved, and although they no longer need to rely on it to keep themselves and their families safe, the buildings that surround the palace symbolize unshakable glory and status.

There are seven towers surrounding the palace, and the flags and coats of arms of these seven towers have almost never changed, one of which is a standing grizzly bear with a blue and silver background, which belongs to the Doncre family, who have intermarried with the royal family for generations, their daughters have been married to the king, and the king's daughters have been married to their sons, and they and their heirs are trusted by the king - and the former owner of Thundercastle, Marquis Morton Donclay, is the cousin of the current king.

On his deathbed, the Marquis of Moreton Donclay bequeathed his army and the reins of Castle Thunder to a knight of humble origin, for whom His Majesty is said to have spoken to him alone, for an entire afternoon, but the King agreed to his request, much to the astonishment of all. Although the Normans of the Highlands were ultimately the last authority in the sacred tradition that the Normans had inherited for thousands of years, "the will of the dead is the last authority" The son and people of the Marquis of Moreton Donclay were semi-forcibly ordered to obey this crazy will, but many still believe that the Marquis of Moreton Donclay did this because the young knight named Baldwin was his illegitimate son, and it was unanimously believed that he loved Baldwin's mother so much that he mercilessly abandoned his only legitimate son, and instead sent this inferior person with a mixed blood to a position that he could not have climbed in his lifetime.

Perhaps it was because poor Dylan was his only legitimate son that Duke John smiled meaningfully - Dylan's bloodline was pure, the problem was that his ancestry from his father's side was always questioned. The Marquis of Moreton Donclay was stationed at Thundercastle for a long time, while his wife, the King's sister, the Norman Princess of the Highlands, never left the royal capital, and as husband and wife, they met only twice, once when they were married, which took twelve days, and the second time the Marquis came in a hurry at the king's call, and stayed in the royal capital for only three days, and six months later, Dylan Donclay was born.

The males of the Don Cree family almost always had gray hair and various grays - silver-gray, blue-gray, gray-yellow eyes, but Dylan inherited the red hair of the royal family, and a pair of green eyes that even his mother did not have.

People quickly turned their attention to the only green-eyed person in the royal capital at the time, the Chancellor of the Exchequer Fu Kai, who was trusted by the old king. This man is the same age as the Marquis of Morton, but he is more affectionate and gentle than the master of Thundercastle, and his ambiguous relationship with the princess may not be known to ordinary people, but for the members of the royal family and those around them, it is just a tacit little secret.

Some have speculated that Morton Donclay will challenge Fouquet to cut this helpless lover in two with his broadsword, which has severed the heads of countless orcs, or try to make the "legitimate child" who brought him shame disappear silently - he can't kill a princess, but a child, even in the royal family, is not uncommon because of a cold or a fall from a horse. But the Marquis of Doncre let them down, and he did nothing, and his calm and cowardly reputation was almost discredited as a knight, and he returned to Thundercastle, where he remained until he was dying.

It was also for this reason that the king could not refuse his request, and perhaps it was the little revenge of the knight of Tyre at the last moment, who made an illegitimate son a friend of the king, gave him a surname, gave him a knighthood, and made him the master of Thundercastle - ha, when he first came to the royal capital, with the gray hair and gray eyes characteristic of the Doncre family, and stood before the king and his courtiers, the latter's expression really amused Duke John, especially Fouquet.

Duke John's sister was furious when she heard the news, and if it weren't for the king's orders, she might have ordered her guards to execute Berdwin. But as far as Duke John was concerned, her anger had been compromised only by her dignity and possessiveness, and a husband with whom she had only been with her for fifteen days was probably less important in her heart than a puppy hidden under her skirt.

The only person who could have been hurt by the upright Knight of Tyre was the man sitting in front of him, Dylan Donclair.

Whoever sees Dylan Donclay has a stinging eye - he looks like a miniature treasure trove that dragons would salivate over.

He had rings on each of his fingers, a wide gold bracelet on his wrist, an amulet jewel box with a gold chain hanging from his chest, pins on his cuffs and neckline, earrings hidden in his red hair like hot copper wire, a belt inlaid with precious stones and mythril, a dagger with an ivory handle stuck diagonally into it, his buttons and boots were pure gold, and he wore a headdress— Although he had the right to do so as the son of a princess, the gods forbid that even the king would not always wear a crown of ten pounds of pure gold, set with rubies and stones that sparkled like the sun.

The princess's son was clad in fine linen, satin, and immaculate fur from birth, and still is. As the room had been warmed by pyroxene, the Marquis de Donclay's nominal son pulled off his cloak and coat, and threw them directly at a small single desk that was already overwhelmed, and the overturned ink stained the parchment, white mink, black flying squirrel skin, and bright red velvet.

He sat in front of the fireplace, the light of the fire shining on his crimson tight-fitting undergarment, the surface of which was smooth and delicate, and the royal coat of arms was coiled with gold thread and small pearls and obsidian - a pair of large white bears covered the sides of his chest, and larger pearls were used as buttons for the undergarment, not six but sixty, which made the whole robe more luxurious and fitting, and each pearl had a gold semicircle holder, on which the pattern was traced with Mithril powder.

Even so, Dylan Donclay is one of the few people in the main material plane who can make these jewels a foil to themselves rather than eclipsed by their brilliance.

His appearance was even better than that of Leona, the Norman princess of the Highlands, no, not his mother, but his mother's niece, the only remaining blood of the current king, what a pity, Duke John thought, if Leona had such a delicate face, even if it was a little dangerous, he would be willing to marry her, so that perhaps the whole thing would be made easier.

No, Duke John thought again, his brother would not agree, he loved his daughter like a treasure, and would not agree to marry her to her uncle, and he had become more and more whimsical in recent years, or perhaps because of the somewhat enlightening relationship between the White Tower and the owner of the Partridge Hill, and he was trying to convince the nobles and elders that they would support him in changing the traditions and laws of the Norman Highlands, or to be precise, the law of inheritance.

He wanted his daughter, Princess Leona, to inherit his throne instead of his younger brother, Duke John.

A sharp cold wind pierced through the tiny gap between the tapestry and the window, bringing fresh air and a deep chill. Duke John shuddered slightly, and he walked over and put the heavy tapestry back in place, as long and as wide as an adult male's arms outstretched, and depicted a hypothetical scene of the first Norman king of the Highlands ascending the throne, sitting on a chair, wearing a crown, draped in robes, holding a scepter, and beside him stood the heads of seven families, each with their surname on the top of their heads, and below them the lineage of the Norman royal family of the Highlands, who had twenty-four kings to this day, and Duke John was supposed to be the twenty-five。

His finger rested on the edge of the tapestry, the tower of the Doncre family was the tallest of the seven, and from the top down, he could see most of the royal capital and the outer city, the palace was like a head guarded by a crown, it was the only bright in the middle of the night, and the rest of the city was dark, but not the outer city, where the nobles and wealthy merchants lived, and on some days of celebration it was even bright all night. Even if it does not belong to any of the gods today, it still shines like a lake of stars, and the temples of many gods are there, after all, temples and sanctuaries have strict requirements for direction, materials, and specifications, and it is difficult for them to find a suitable place in the narrow and rigid royal capital.

The most notable of these was Frow's Temple, where men with gold coins and jewels came to worship her attendants, and Duke John had been a regular visitor to them for a time, but now he rarely set foot there, and although the servants who could gain Frow's favor rarely grew old and sick under her care, he did not want to be in front of the same women for years. A little over a month ago, a new priest of Flo had arrived from the White Tower, but before she could do anything about it, she was thrown into prison by the priest of the Temple of Flo, and if it weren't for Duke John, she would have been killed alive by the jailers.

Duke John enjoyed her wonderful tongue and body with pleasure, and then he called the Baroness, his mistress, and gave her the seductive little ewe, hoping that she would be of some use in his plan.

The priest of Flo, who had an ominous name, did come in handy unexpectedly, and she did not care to approach a vulgar peasant woman, to meet her, to praise her, and to occasionally grovel, which Duke John had not considered before—it was normal that Berdwin's wife was not popular with the ladies of the royal capital, after all, the illegitimate son of the family was still working on the farm, and he was the husband of the princess, the son of the Marquis of Doncre, but what he did not expect was that she was also being treated by the so-called "lady" Disgusted, he inquisitively inquisitively asked the Baroness, and the answer was that they were jealous that she had a dutiful and wealthy husband, and that she was not satisfied, and that the Baroness frankly said that if she had such a husband, she would have stayed at home with gratitude and bore him a dozen children, instead of groaning and complaining all day long.

If it weren't for Memi, the baroness would have to endure her disgust to perfunctory this woman, but fortunately, now she only needs to show up at the critical moment, and the plan is going well, but it's a little expensive,

"How many devil's fingers have you taken out, Dylan?" asked Duke John, putting down his tapestry, seemingly casually.

"Two ounces. The questionee replied listlessly.

"Fifty-six grams, fifty thousand gold coins," said Duke John, "and more importantly, you are a spellcaster, and as far as I know, spellcasters have always been eager for the devil's fingers." ”

"That's because they're missing this," Dylan said, "and I don't." ”

"That's because your Chamber of Commerce brings you gold like a river brings water. Duke John lifted two ginza agate goblets: "Mead, winter wine, or rotten sweet wine?"

"Winter wine. Dylan said, taking the cup, taking out the small bottle he had brought with him, and putting some winter honey inside.

Duke John brought himself a full glass of rotten liqueur, a purple-blue sweet wine that could only be found in Thundercastle: "Do you still have rotten liqueur?" he asked, admiring the color of the glass, the blue-purple wine, agate, and fire were stacked together to form a rather strange color, which reminded Duke John of a liver that had been dug out raw, and if you threw it hot in the snow, the snow would turn reddish, and it would stiffen, and brittle, and then solidify into the color he saw now.

"A lot. Dylan toasted to the Duke: "To our Highness." ”

"To our Majesty. Then he laughed as if he had heard his clown tell a joke that could not have been laughed before, and he laughed so hard that he coughed violently, and he took a sip of sweet wine to stop it, but it backfired, and he coughed even more, and his throat was hot, and he tasted sweetness.

"Where's your medicine?" Dylan asked.

Duke John shook his head, and Dylan stood up and took out a few black pills the size of his little finger from his amulet box.

"You'll be better after eating it. Dylan said, Duke John hesitated for a moment, picked a sleek and lovely one from it and swallowed it.

The effect of the medicine was so remarkable that almost as soon as he swallowed it, Duke John's cough stopped, and his lungs were no longer so burning and painful.

"Those red-robed ones again?"

"You don't like the red robe?"

"I heard that they use baby brains as medicine. ”

"It has nothing to do with us. Dylan said. "That's not our baby. ”

"But it always reminds me of orcs. Duke John said.

"What do you think is the difference between us and the orcs, Your Highness?" said Dylan, "just in the way we eat." ”

"Don't speak so badly of yourself," Duke John pulled out a silk scarf and wiped the corner of his mouth, "You're just doing business - you don't distinguish between you and me before profit." How's business going this year, my dear nephew?"

"Very good," said Dylan, "the new medicine in the red robe is regarded as a gift from the orc god, and I hope the great orc god will not care that I have taken some of the gold and precious stones that should have been given to him." ”

"Fortunately, this great god loves fighting, killing, and fresh flesh more," Duke John lowered his voice, "how much?"

"Enough equipment for a team of five hundred—spears, broadswords, armor, horses, minions. Dylan said.

Duke John smiled sweetly, or was able to outweigh the wine in his glass: "I can't love you more, Dylan, my nephew," he said, "no doubt you have inherited the virtues of your parents, the beauty of my sister, and the talents of Fouquet." ”

"My father was Moreton Donkray. ”

"His son was only Berdwin, a lowly man. "Who knows to whom the other half of his blood belongs?, a peasant woman, or a spinning girl, or a prostitute?" and you," he slammed close to Dylan, put one of his hands on his shoulder, and stared at his green eyes tightly: "Fouquet's surname is also marked on the Tapestry of the Throne, he is the descendant of seven nobles, and your mother, the king's sister, and your blood is so noble that you need not have to fight for Doncree's love at all. Do you know how painful and sad it is for your mother to think of serving in Thundercastle? Don Clay is not as perfect as you think, he is just a stubborn idiot, like my brother, our king, who values only his own blood," he sneered, "They did all the ridiculous and crazy things for their son, and for their daughters. “

"You don't have to remind me how naïve I was," said Dylan, pushing him away, "If I had had even the slightest illusion about Morton Donclay, my caravan would not have been on the Whirring Plains." ”

Duke John was visibly relieved, and he was not sorry for his nephew's faux pas, "...... And," he asked, "about those potions......"

"If Berdwin is dead," Dylan said, "those potions will also ensure that the orcs cannot invade the capital." ”

"What if," Duke John chewed on the word, "against three times his own number, and still be able to win?"

"Who knows?" Dylan drank the wine from his cup, it barely tasted, but the heat that surged up made him feel like he had swallowed a cup of lava, "No matter how humble the blood in his body is, the other half still belongs to Donclay, who has always been one of the most courageous surnames of the Normans in the Highlands." ”

"Then our little Penny will come in handy. Duke John said that instead of drinking the rest of the wine, he poured it into the fireplace, and the flame rose suddenly, and the Duke took a step back: "I hope Berdwin really loves her as much as we think he does." ”

"And she's as stupid as we thought she was. Dylan added.

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