The cold wind blowing from the sea to the north trickled away from everyone's armor and burrowed into everyone's arms through the cracks.

Late autumn is approaching, and the wind is already a little cold.

The words of the young man, who was about to become their new lord, made a fire burn in the hearts of every knight, and even every spearman behind him.

It is hard to leave the homeland, and apart from the natural adventurer, not many people are willing to leave their homeland.

The Knights of Bakaria is not a good place to be, as the kingdom has unsympathetic taxes and laws. The knight-born lords never understood what the people's livelihood was and what public opinion was, they only knew how to collect taxes from the people regularly and quantitatively.

Almost every year, peasants in the province are forced to revolt by harsh tax officials.

However, every riot is quickly extinguished - knights are not good at internal affairs, but they are extremely good at fighting.

Basically, when the mob had gathered and tied up the most hated tax collectors and put them at the stake, the knights would arrive.

After a battle, those who should be beheaded are beheaded, those who are hanged are hanged, and the rest of the mob is all sent to the gladiatorial arena. Each person was given a broken weapon that had changed for an unknown number of owners, and it was so old that it could be traced back to the level of the Taigong.

To put it nicely, it is to find self-redemption in battle. To say that it doesn't sound good is to practice for rookie knights.

When the peasants cut off a batch like leeks, it seemed that the damned days could go on again.

Even if the knight lord of Bakaria has all kinds of wrongs, at least he is never ambiguous in foreign wars. It doesn't matter if it's a barbarian, an orc, a goblin, or a vampire.

Perhaps Bakaria is such a contradictory, rather bad country, compared to this worse and more chaotic world, it is more than enough.

Almost three years ago, from the province of Bakaria, who was still barely able to survive, everyone had some longing and dreams in their hearts, because they were led by the old Duke of Lorraine, who was the most capable and sympathetic to the people's livelihood.

Fast forward three years, and Lorrainburg is still half-dead. The old man who was always at the front of the line, with a javelin-like rocker, clearly a living flag, has fallen forever.

The sooner to take over the Trailblazer flag is his only, 14-year-old son.

It is rumored that Master Martin Lorraine is a waste who eats, drinks and has fun, but can't even ride a horse.

Look at it, just now he even got on the horse and asked Knight Coolen to pull him up by hand, no wonder no knight is willing to officially become his mentor, let alone accept him as a servant, or even make him a trainee knight.

Actually, it's not Martin's fault.

As a modern city person, it's normal that you can't ride a horse.

Thankfully, all of this is not the point.

The point is, now everyone has a little bit of a thought.

It seems that this legendary young master of waste wood is not so wasteful.

Seems like he still has some courage!

Martin could clearly feel that everyone's gaze on him had changed, and they had become slightly warmer, as if they were willing to put a little more hope on him.

Knight Kuden was extremely surprised, and he never imagined that the cowardly and scoundrel young master in his memory, who did not look like a knight at all, would have such courage. He couldn't help but burst into tears, turned sideways, and tapped the visor on his helmet with his fingers, which was the most solemn salute when it was inconvenient to make a big salute.

"I'm sorry, young master. It is obviously a mistake to always look at a person from the perspective of the past. When I go back, I will also reflect on myself. But I'm really glad that the old master and the old lady would be very happy to see you become so sensible and responsible in the spirit of heaven. ”

Several knights and trainee knights next to him all looked at them expectantly.

Martin suddenly realized.

Bakaria is a high-ranking country. They prefer to believe in the inheritance of bloodline, because people of noble birth tend to perform better.

In fact, in Martin's view, this is just an imbalance in educational resources. For example, in the Celestial Empire before the crossing, students in large coastal cities did better than students in remote mountainous areas. Without it, in mountainous areas where even an English teacher may not be found, can the results of the college entrance examination be compared with those of students in big cities?

The current situation is that he can fool the knights and the nobility with simple rhetoric, and if he fails, it is a big deal to pat his ass and go back to the royal capital.

For civilians, only by filling their stomachs and having hope for life can they truly capture their hearts.

Whatever he said at this time was only to delay the time for his subordinates to vote no confidence in him. The final result still depends on whether he, the lord, is reliable, can protect them, and develop the territory.

Although Martin didn't dare to have much hope for his so-called territory, he told himself countless times in his heart: a territory that had been ravaged by orcs and killed even his cheap father in battle could not be a tall place, Martin still felt a whirlwind when he saw the extremely proud 'Lorrainburg' in Kouden's words.

I have to say that Martin's dead ghost dad still has some ideas. The place where Lorrainburg is located is a narrow sea (river) road. To the west is the almost vertical mountain with a slope of at least 70 degrees, and to the east is the River Rick.

He mobilized his people to build two wooden fences from west to east on a slightly higher ground, presumably in the hope of building a great fortress about a kilometer wide and three kilometers long.

Theoretically, as long as this slightly flat avenue is cut off, Lorraine Castle will become a military pass.

It's a pity that the old man's heart is higher than the sky, and his life is as thin as paper.

If he had the support of the whole kingdom behind him, maybe he could really do it.

The point is: the pioneer knight is out of the kingdom, and the gods and horses have to rely on their own hard work.

There is no money, no manpower and material resources, and the result is only such a thing.

Almost seeing Lorrainburg, Martin lay down on the spot!

It's called a castle!?

From a distance, the three-storey wooden bunker-shaped buildings cover an area of more than 100 square meters per floor. The exterior of the wooden wall is also plastered to prevent fire, and it does look like a stone bunker from a distance.

It's just like that.

There is a large hole in the lower level, apparently smashed by heavy weapons, exposing the wooden structure inside.

Martin can already imagine that it is unreliable to live in it now. Even before, living in it can be said that it is not only stuffy, but also not very defensive.

The lord's hometown is like this, and the knights have more than a dozen cabins, and the lords are naturally even more miserable, all of them are hay thatched huts.

The wooden gate of Lorrainburg is quite imposing, a full ten meters high, not to mention the large hole next to it that can be driven into by a horse-drawn carriage......