What is the scariest thing about walking in the snowy mountains and forests?

Cold weather, hungry beasts, deceived vision, or a lot of physical exertion?

As a son of a nobleman, Carlos, who was trained and raised in the castle and eventually became a knight, is unknown.

Although the guide who led the way in front of him had mockingly told him the answer - it was a slip on the soles of his feet.

He also sneered back with disdain.

But now, helplessly holding his ankle, which was swollen from a sprain, Carlos has to regret his arrogance.

He looked up at the struggling procession on the hillside, sword in hand, trying to get himself to his feet.

"Hmm!"

The pain caused Carlos to let out a muffled grunt.

"Is the bone broken?" The originally relaxed armor stomach looked so heavy at the moment, and the tragic reality made him complain irritably: "I really don't understand what Lord Earl thinks, all the people walked over the Krens Mountains to copy the lair of the barbarians of the Misty Mountains?"

"What a clever strategy!" Carlos said sarcastically, slamming his fist into the ground, splashing an innocent snowflake.

This bad luck made him wonder if he had recently fallen under the curse of the god of bad luck, first losing a duel to the bastard son of the Stoke family, and now he can even break his foot in a hurry!

There's no way the team will stop for him, Carlos is convinced.

What are these non-combat attrition guys in the North called?

Rubbish!

Could it be that he could only crawl back to Ilkettrin and become the laughing stock of those creatures in the lower body to tease the noblewoman?

What will they call themselves?

Broken Leg Knight or Carlos Broken Leg?

"Ah!!h

Carlos let out an unwilling roar, as if he saw the miserable second half of his life...

He struggled to move his sprained leg and crawled toward the woods not far away, trying to get some branches and make himself a splint.

Although that won't improve the current situation much, it will at least ensure that his leg will not fall into serious sequelae and cause disability, after all, as a knight who fights for a living, he does not want to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Simple battlefield medicine is one of the skills that every knight should master, and Carlos is no exception, but apparently Lady Luck doesn't seem to be on his side, even though the branches are bent down by the snow, but they are constant, and it is not an easy task to dig up dead branches from the snow, especially if you have a broken leg.

"Ahh

Carlos angrily swung his long sword and slashed at the trunk of the tree, but he accidentally used too much force, pulling the injury at the ankle, and the severe pain made him grit his teeth, and he couldn't help but let out an angry curse: "!"

"Puff puff!"

The thick snow on the trees was shaken down by the movement of his sword, smashing it on top of him, burying Carlos entirely underneath.

"Lao Tzu...!"

He poked his head out helplessly, and was about to vent his sad emotions.

"Bang dang!"

A muffled sound of armor rubbing against the ground came from behind him. Carlos was instantly happy, it seems that he is not the only unlucky person!

While mocking the tragic fate of a comrade is not in line with the rules of a noble knight, who cares! In any case, it is best to have multiple people share the firepower in such situations.

He turned his head to look, but his smile froze instantly.

It's the Ostose Knights!

The strongest knight under the Count's command was lying on his stomach in the snow at the moment, and a sharp arrow of wolf teeth struck him in the head with precision, and the blood mixed with his brain slowly flowed out along the gap in his helmet, staining the snow bright red.

"Actually... Lienos" Carlos's pupils constricted, and he looked up the hillside.

"Soldiers!!!"

"Raise your shield!"

"Hold on!"

The death of the Ostose knight seemed to have kicked off the war, and the roar of screams, roars, and the clashing of weapons came along the howling cold wind, and the originally peaceful mountain forest instantly boiled.

"The barbarians of the Misty Mountains?!"

Carlos exclaimed, his fairly good eyesight that allowed him to see clearly.

I saw gray-white figures spread all over the mountains like a tide, colliding with the formation of Livingston hoplites.

As if blinded by a sudden attack, these soldiers, who were originally on the way, were divided into seven or eight pieces, and could only form a circle nearby, and fell into the encirclement.

It's like the waves crashing against the reef!

"Kill!"

"them!"

Blood splatters, stumps and broken blades fly!

Livingston's blue figure was gradually decreasing, and one by one the circles were accompanied by screams of despair, gradually engulfed by the gray-white tide.

"Why are they here!Aren't they supposed to be besieging Ryan Town?!" Carlos couldn't help but think of what the man who had beaten him and refused to admit his guilt had said at the dinner party last night, and vaguely seemed to understand something.

He looked at the tall and burly figure on the hillside, where the Count was wielding a two-handed sword and cutting in half the barbarians of the Misty Mountains who were rushing in the mountains, and his blood-stained face looked hideous.

He was standing at the front of the array, his heavily armored back looking as impassable as the Krens Mountains, and the powerful lethality of the giant sword made the attack of the Misty Mountain people pause, and it was obviously blocked, and the Livingston hoplites who had come to their senses breathed a sigh of relief, and even began to fight back.

"Whoosh!"

Cold arrows struck the chaotic battlefield from time to time, and it was not difficult to see from the arrows that were occasionally bounced off by the Earl using his armor and angles that their goal was to find a way to kill the Ravenstonian commanders and the knights with incredible combat power.

This proves that the leader of this Misty army is a clever man, and understands that a normal rain of arrows is ineffective against Ravenston hoplites armed with shields and heavy armor, and that it is very likely that they will accidentally injure their own people who lack protection.

"Bang dang dang..."

From time to time, the corpses of soldiers and misty mountain people rolled down the hillside, occasionally with a knight or two, and the seriously wounded but lucky survivors let out a terrible wail, and the discovery of the enemy survivors was followed by a terrible fight.

Teeth, daggers, and even helmets to smash, hands to pinch.

The bravery of the Ravenston and the savagery of the Misty Mountain were a perfect match, but unlike the battle on the hillside, the lack of formation and the weight of the armor put the survivors of the Livingston side at a disadvantage, and they were killed by the superior Misty Mountain people in the midst of unwilling shouts.

Carlos gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his sword in his hand, the battle that broke out here was not too far from his position at this time, and the tragic death of his comrades was so stimulating that he almost crawled over to fight the barbarians of the Misty Mountains.

But reason stopped him.

Carlos moved his body back, and the snowdrifts that had slipped down the trees provided him with good cover. He refocused his attention on the battlefield above, his eyes full of worry.

"Breakout!" cried the Count.

Carlos heard his voice become hoarse, like heavy iron rubbing.

As the Lord of Silverblade Castle, Carolus was also a formidable warrior! Under his leadership, the only remaining two circles gradually broke through the encirclement and converged.

However, there were more and more gray-white figures, and even as the corpses raised the ground and the blood melted the snow, their numbers seemed to have not decreased, pinning Livingston's formation firmly in place.

The scene was at a stalemate.

The soldiers' well-equipped and well-trained coordination were enough to disrupt the offensive of the Misty Mountain barbarians, but the heavy armor and limited physical strength were gradually wearing down their fighting spirit.

"No way!"

Carlos knew that even the Count's shrewd division of his soldiers into two groups and taking turns repairing their defenses would still not be able to withstand the cold and hunger.

If this continues, sooner or later the Count and the soldiers who have only one brigade or so left will be buried here!

"I need to do something!"

Something called a sense of mission came to him, and Carlos felt his blood boiling, and he remembered the horses that the Count had ordered to stay, and the Rangers squad that Ilcutlin was in charge of patrolling.

"Maybe it's just in time!"

He took a deep look at the Earl, even after more than half an hour of bloody fighting, this strong man still stood at the forefront, the rough weapon of the Misty Mountain Man did not carve a single scratch on his armor, and the thin leather armor could not stop a swing under his greatsword.

After the situation gradually stabilized, Livingston's formation was as unbreakable as a rock!

It seems that there is no hope of a war, or that the loss is to the point that even the overpopulated people of the Misty Mountains feel distressed.

Carlos sensed that the Misty Mountain Men were significantly less aggressive than before, and the warring sides were now mired in a mill of flesh and blood.

Not far away, the people of the Misty Mountains, who had not joined the warband, had even begun to set up tents under the command of the shaman, preparing for a long-term siege.

Also, if cold and hunger are enough to defeat these enemies, why waste the lives of their people in a senseless way?

Although he looked down on these barbarians in his heart, Carlos understood that the leader of the other party was not a fool.

This discovery relieved him.

After all, this situation will continue until Ravenston's side runs out of strength and is wiped out, or the Misty Mountain Can't stop the Earl's breakout.

However, looking at the gray-and-white figures that spread across the hills, Carlos said that he had no hope that the Count would be able to break through.

He reached out to stroke the snow off his helmet, and the thirst for honor brought out the potential of his body.

Carlos gritted his teeth, and in order not to alarm the barbarians who were trying to climb the hill again not far away, he carefully unfastened his heavy armor and climbed lightly in the direction of Ircutrin.

Perhaps, if all goes well, I won't be called a Broken Leg Knight or Carlos Broken Leg!

They will call me a hero!

Yes, he cares a lot about this...