Paths, weeds, slanting suns, knights, servants, ancient tunes. The elven tunes that came out of Bakham's mouth sounded so melodious, like the wind blowing through the branches of the trees, or like the spring gently washing the pebbles at the bottom of the river. Leon and his retinue rode one after the other, heading in the direction of the Molten Iron City, the knight's silver armor had faded from the surface of the previous flames, revealing an ugly black appearance, but the blood lion didn't seem to care about his armor at this time.

"You know what? you can do to make the best bard in the kingdom hungry. Perhaps intrigued by his companion's singing, Leon turned back to the elf and said, "I didn't know you could sing." ”

Bakham smiled, stopped humming, and replied in the human language, still with these strange tones, "Elves are born artists, and we can create the most beautiful singing voices in the world even without professional training." I heard the old man say that this is because the god who created us unconsciously hummed a song because of happiness when he created the jinn. "The old man in Bakham's mouth is the old elf who entrusted him to Leon. In exchange for suggesting that the elves send troops to help the kingdom of the Blue Lion, the Blood Lion was forced to accept the young elf as his servant.

"I can't see the most beautiful singing. "As a warrior, Buckham is still immature, not because his skills are too poor, in fact, in Leon's opinion, with the ability of the elves, in terms of skill alone, he has nothing to train, and the two knives, one long and one short, are used freely in Buckham's hands like an extension of his body. What really limits Bakham's achievements is that this elf is too impatient compared to his skills, which makes him prone to extremes in combat and behavior, as evidenced by the blindness of the nezumi. Therefore, the Blood Lion intends to correct Hu Zun's bad habits a little bit by singing.

Sure enough, hearing Leon's disagreement with his words, the elf immediately slapped his horse and caught up, and the position was the same as that of his knight, as if he wanted to theorize well. "Isn't it not enough that you yourself say that I can sing better than the best bards in your kingdom, and that I have never had any singing training?"

"Poofha!" Who would have thought, hearing Bakham's questioning, the knight chief actually laughed on horseback. He laughed for a long time before stopping, and that was enough time for the expression on the elf's face to change from puzzled to annoyed. "Okay, okay, I shouldn't laugh at you like that. Leon shook his head and apologized to him, "I said you sang better than the bards, and that's true. But if this can be called the most beautiful song in the world, then the word 'most' is too worthless. ”

"Hmph, I don't think you want to admit it, but you say who sings better than elves?"

"Then I'll talk about it, you can listen to it casually, after all, this is just my family's words, and I can't do it. The Blood Lion sat up straight and cleared his throat, "The reason why I say your song is beautiful is because we are walking here now, and your song is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. But there is no other place in the world than the wilderness, and there is no voice in the caverns that is more morale-boosting than the low chorus of the dwarves, and when on the sea, there is no song like the sailor's ditty mixed with swear words and slogans, and in the splendid opera houses are the best poems of love and happiness, and even though they know that when they walk out of the theater they all become false lies, they love to hear them. ”

"Songs, after all, are sung by people, so they have to conform to people's minds, and you can't force an impatient person to listen to a slow song, or you can't force a quiet person to like the hurried narrative poems in a tavern. In fact, it's not just singing, we're too. Leon said, reaching out and pulling his silver dagger from Bakham's belt.

"Good sword!" the knight exclaimed as he first held the weapon, which felt like the perfect balance, and only such a weapon could perfectly interpret the user's intentions, but Leon then smiled again, "But it's not good enough." ”

"You're talking a lot like the old man now. The elf looked at the blood lion with his remaining eyes in bewilderment, hoping that the other party would give him a clear answer.

"Well, that's probably why Mr. Greenstaff entrusted you to me. Listen to the boy, weapons are like singing to poets for warriors, there is no such thing as good or bad, we are warriors, our duty is to fight, to defeat the enemy! Then he took out the hunting knife behind his back with his other hand.

"It's still such a broken knife. None of our essence has changed. Fighting, and then winning, is our pursuit and mission. The more you value a weapon, the more you love it as family, the more reluctant you are to fight with it, and you will be afraid, afraid that it will be stained with blood and upset this perfect balance. The chief knight held the hunting knife in his hand full of gaps on his horse, and looked at his servant solemnly. "Bakham, I can tell you right now that when you can one day throw away the two knives from your belt, you will be a true warrior. ”

The elf was completely stunned, he didn't understand why Leon suddenly mentioned these words, and he didn't understand the idea of the knight's long words. But that didn't stop Buckham from trying to think about Leon's right or wrong, he drew his two knives, folded them in his hands, and watched the sunlight reflect beautifully on the flowing silver blades.

As for the Blood Lion, he watched his servant fall into a certain confusion, but the corners of his mouth raised a smile. Because everything he says today was told to him by an elf who had briefly partnered with him when he was in a very brutal war. The chief knight still remembers how the fellow with long ears fought with his bare hands, with his vigorous body and improvisation, in the chaotic battlefield, and today he gave these words to another elf, perhaps it was the arrangement of fate.

Looking up at the sunset that was gradually sinking in the west, in that direction, Leon faintly saw a small black dot appear on the horizon, and his pupils contracted violently, because the knight chief knew that the black dot was the capital of the Hammer Lord, Molten Iron City. The wind, blowing towards the two people on the path, brought with it the smell of burnt and rotting, and the romantic atmosphere just now dissipated with this evil wind in an instant, and even Bakham woke up from his contemplation and held the knife in his hand.

The Blood Lion took a deep breath, he was familiar with the smell, it was the smell of death, the smell of war. "Put the knives away, it's not time to use them, we have to speed up, or I'm afraid we won't be able to catch up with the party in the Molten Iron City!" said the chief knight, tightening his mount under his crotch and leaning forward to speed up his horse.

The path, the dead grass, the sunset, the warrior, the boy, the smoke of gunpowder. The molten iron city on the horizon slowly expanded in the eyes of the two of them, and with it, there were layers of black things like thorns on the road ahead, which was the army of rat people who were gathering.