Norman thought that Fitzgeler could help him, but he didn't expect Fitzgel to take the initiative to say that he couldn't do anything, which made him a little "egg... lā

Well, the egg hurts, this is what he learned from the live broadcast room. He found that the ancient language of those water friends in the live broadcast room can express objects and emotions better than the lingua franca in many cases, and after a long period of hearing and seeing, he is getting closer and closer to the language habits of those water friends.

The egg hurts, Norman still thinks about it, and Lancelot also provides a little reference at the right time, and then he raises his eyelids to look at Fitzgeller and asks, "Is it okay for me to pay money?"

In fact, he did not expect the idea, and the reality was, Fitzgeler shook his head without moving a moment, and said: "I think these gentlemen are not short of money, and you, as a musician of such great achievement, should know that Quintalan cannot pry our will." ”

Norman knows a fart, he's just a fake who has only been in contact with music for a few days, how can he understand the weirdness and stubbornness of these artists?

And then he came up with an idea: "So what about their interest in music? I mean, if I want to make something that's powerful enough, will they be willing to put in their own labor for it?"

Fitzgeller's eyes lit up.

It was shocking, that was what Norman had said, and it was the only information he knew about the twenty-person piece right now, and it sounded exciting, and he wondered how powerful it would be.

Of course, the pursuit of beauty is what we have in common, and we don't just appreciate our own field, as long as it produces such beauty within the scope of our understanding, we will be willing to give everything for it, let alone simple labor. If there is such a powerful song, I believe that everyone will be willing to contribute to it, and it is an honor to be a part of it. ”

Fitzgeller first affirmed Norman's idea, but then put forward a precondition, "But first you have to get them interested in what you are talking about, and convince them that what you are going to do has the power to stir the mind, and it is not easy for me to say it." ”

Norman nodded, "Of course." If that's what you say, then I want to put on a show for you, and maybe they'll be able to agree with me, don't you think it's possible?"

Fitzgeller's eyes brightened.

He had only identified Norman as a master musician from Norman's comments, but all he could know from those aspects was Norman's profound knowledge of music theory, and it was still unknown what Norman's complete creativity was and whether he had amazing creative ability, but now he was able to witness it with his own ears. This is a very high level of master-level composition and performance, how can he not expect it?

"Yes, of course do!"

Fitzgerer hurriedly affirmed, and then asked, "Do you need to do anything to prepare? Do you need any instruments?"

Norman shook his head, "No, I'll just go to the carriage and bring my musical instruments, and there is no preparation, just get the things and get started." ”

Fitzgel couldn't wait to say, "Okay, then I'll organize everyone!"

As he spoke, his steps had already taken a step, and his mouth began to shout incessantly, ordering the servants to clean up the grounds, to announce the news to his companions, and to call them to assemble.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there is a maestro here who is about to perform for us, please come and enjoy this wonderful music......!

After dinner, the camp was in order: the servants were putting away the dishes, the knights were leisurely walking around the camp chatting, a few music lovers gathered to exchange musical experiences, a thin painter was interested in painting the quiet night scene around the campfire, looking out at the outskirts of the camp. The knights on the night watch could be seen sporadically, the chirping of owls in the trees next to the camp was heard, and the cold evening breeze in the northeast in autumn was blowing, not too cold, and after the flames were extinguished from the campfire, it was more vigorous and warm......

It was all warm and peaceful, but as Fitzgerer yelled and walked around, the silence was shattered, and some people complained.

"Hey, don't shout, Fitzjelle, your voice is harsh. ”

"You've disrupted my train of thought, sir. ”

"Where did you come from, masters? Do you mean those poor people who are lost today?"

"I heard Federer say that one of the three seems to have some ability?"

......

Although some people complained, many people put aside what they were doing and gathered together to see what the man Fitzgeler was talking about could do, and some of them were close to Fitzgel, and ordered their servants to do their work according to Fitzgerer's orders.

After some tossing, an open space was opened next to the largest bonfire in the middle of the camp, and the aristocratic artists gathered in a scattered circle, either with their hands on their chests or whispering to each other, waiting for the protagonist to appear.

Chen Qinghe and Abel stood in the crowd, and the surrounding aristocratic artists turned their eyes from time to time, but they also seemed to know that these two strangers were not the people in Fitzgeler's mouth, so they didn't pay too much attention to them, often in a flash.

It was in this atmosphere that Norman came.

He took his violin from the carriage, looked at it and determined the area for the performance, and then, under the guidance of Fitzgeler, walked through the crowd to the campfire and stood still.

Outwardly, Norman was very unartistic: this guy was ordinary, burly and muscular, and his eyes were not at all warm and deep, but faintly intimidating like a beast, and there was really no place for an artist, and it was almost as good as a butcher who was good at peeling and chopping meat, which made some people who were already quite dissatisfied with Fitzgeler's behavior laugh in their hearts.

No matter how you look at such a guy, you can't match the title of "music master", how can Fitzgeler think that this is a music master? They have never heard of such a music master.

There are many birds that dare to love Fitzgerer, but after all, they were pecked in the eye.

So they waited, waiting to see how the "master" would cut wood.

Norman put the violin on his shoulder in anticipation, and the bowstring was set, but before his bowstring could move, music came from where he stood.

Everyone was stunned, and several mages in the crowd were the first to react: It's the sound preservation technique, and this stranger is also a mage!

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