When he was awakened by the harsh sunlight, he found himself in a small cabin, lying on a flat haystack, with no one around. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info He tried to struggle to his feet, but only clumsily knocked down the javelin on the shelf next to him, and it clicked. A young man pushed the door open and burst out laughing at Porcha's embarrassed smile. Pol saw that he was a descendant of the Kallads and Kujits, just like himself.

"You're finally awake. The young man smiled and told him as if he had met an old friend whom he had not seen for many years.

The young man told him that his name was Polgar, that he was a merchant, and that when he passed by the steppe, he found him fainting there, and rescued him. Porcha thanked him gratefully.

"Can you tell me your name?" he pulled a little bread out of his pocket and handed it to Porcha.

"Kind sir, my name is Porcha. Polcha took the bread and swallowed it, and Polgar laughed even more.

"Actually, I'm sure you can see that I'm the kind of person who escapes just like you. ”

Porcha nodded, he had no time to consider the contradictions of these identities, how could a drowning man not hold on tightly when he saw the drifting wood?

Those Kugits are bastards. Porcha swallowed the bread and suddenly scolded indignantly, just as he used to do.

"Yes, it does. Polgar no longer smiled, but changed to a sad face, "Some time ago when I was in business, I was robbed of a hunting horse by a horse dealer in Tulga, and it was a beautiful hunting horse with a scarlet mark on its forehead. He has the support of the lord, and I can't afford to be a small businessman. But that horse is important to me, can you help me steal it back?"

Porcha hesitated a little, because he had never been a thief, and he didn't really want to be a thief.

"They took the horse, they took our land, they drove our family..."Polgar furrowed his brow, carefully observing Porcha's expression.

"I'll do it. Porcha finally spoke, and he spoke calmly, as if he had seen through the ugliness of men.

"Put on this kugit armor and sneak in disguised as a recruit, and I wish you success. Polgar finally regained his smile and pointed to the tattered dress hanging on the wall.

When he had seen Porcha walk away, he whistled, and a stocky young man stepped out of the grove on the east side of the cabin.

"How do you know he'll come back?" the young man looked at Polgar with some confusion, "Selling Ramona for 50 dinars, it's not easy to make money in wartime." ”

"He'll be back. Polgar's eyes narrowed, and he said no more.

"But it would be nice to get that hunting horse, and it could be sold for a thousand dinars. The young man rubbed his hands, he knew that Polgar had never missed something, so he felt that the handful of dinar seemed to have arrived.

In fact, Polcha was already a little suspicious when he asked for help stealing the horse, but now when he thought about it on the road, he realized that Polgar was not a serious merchant at all. But where should he go now?" he smiled bitterly at last, and calmly went to the city of Tulga. Porcha had never stolen a horse at all, and as soon as he had taken it out of the stable, he was discovered, and he immediately mounted his horse and fled out of the city, where soldiers chased him, and he was unarmed and not very good at riding, and seemed to be caught soon.

Everyone has some kind of talent, but he has not yet realized it, and now Porcha is slowly realizing that his real talent lies in running. He was well versed in the topography of the steppe, and he seemed to be able to intuitively know where the most remote path was going without getting lost, just as a seasoned sailor could judge the direction of the wind with his fingers, and with this he outwitted his pursuers, and at last escaped them at a fork in the woods.

It was late afternoon when he found Polgar, and he was smiling at him panting and exhausted, like an animal trainer looking at a trapped beast in a cage.

"Welcome back. Polgar took the horse and handed him bread and ale.

Porcha took the food, but did not eat it immediately, he turned away, and the vast twilight stretched into the distance, and the divergent path was intricate in the gloomy and dark woods. He looked at the shadowy and somewhat unreal paths, and began to swallow heavily.

Polgar had the ability to see through a person's power and use it for him, and Porcha was fully aware of his ability almost the moment he brought his horse back and took him into his hands. Like a soulless machine, he acted purely on instinct. Polgar managed to help him get into the city, and he pulled out his horse and searched for a way out of the endless grasslands in exchange for a few days of food for himself. He had now learned the oily and scoundrel style of the marketmen, like a puddle of mud mixed into a mold that would have become exactly like that. Slowly, he also got to know some thieves, ringing horses, and the lowliest robbers, and he would ask them with smiling faces if they needed help, and then lead them by taking a few dinarls to buy a glass of ale. Polgar has seen through this man, the more Polcha is like this, the more relieved he is, in his opinion, there will be no difference between Porcha now and Porcha in a few decades, and he seems destined for decades without any passion and light, only mediocrity and shamelessness.

Polgar was intelligent, calm, and especially good at seeing, and he had already seen the joy and insatiability of the Khan of Gerak, just as he now understood the simple ignorance of Feljans. When the Khan of Gerak won successive battles and added Rana and Halma to the territory of the Khanate, he sneered at the cheering people left behind on the street corner. It was not until the time when the Khan of Gerak had returned from a great defeat at the hands of Marshal Mars at Alib that the old Kugit fellows had a dull and hopeless expression, and he only walked out of the tavern lazily yawning as if he had heard a boring joke. He had even expected that the old khan would never see the sun rising in Tulga again.

When the new Khan Saiga returned with his army, he brought the news of the old Khan's death with him, ignoring the stunned eyes of the crowd and the gloomy and angry eyes of Dastam, and declared that his father Khan had died of illness on the way home, and that he was going to take on the task alone. Polgar's team has expanded to more than a dozen people, and Porcha is no longer just stealing horses as before, he is more of a guide for this slave trader, after all, in the war years, time is indeed the lifeline. The civil war spread like wildfire throughout the steppe, but it was all in Polgar's hands, and he stood firmly on Saiga's side, even in the most difficult time when Saiga's army was repeatedly defeated by Dastam and even Saiga's life was threatened, he still used the dinar he had earned over the years to provide him with a steady stream of financial aid to Saiga, and when he spent his last dinar, the news of the victory of the new Khan Saiga came, and he gave him 10,000 dinars as a thank-you gift, and this was not the most important thing. Polgar's slavery business was recognized by the Saiga, and the Kugits finally learned the example of the Nords, and Polgar became a giant among them.

Porcha still wandered in the steppe as before, and did things according to his instincts, and Polgar's wealth and poverty seemed to have nothing to do with him, and he always wanted to fill his stomach, and sometimes he could have a cup of the lowest ale and numb his muddy mind a little deeper. Ever since he had gulped down the bread that gloomy afternoon, he had not seen himself as a living person in his heart.

It was not until one ordinary summer afternoon, when the blazing sun was baking the streets and the air was lazy, that Porcha, while wandering through the streets of the city of Tulga, had taken a fancy to a steed, and he was still acting on instinct, trying to untie the reins, not knowing that a pair of large hands were waiting for him behind the stables. The horse dealer had lost several horses at Porcha's hands and had been waiting for him for a long time. Before Porcha could understand what was happening, he felt pulled out by a sudden force, and he was beaten for a long time. He didn't feel much pain, but thought that he would have to do some odd jobs to get two drinks. He actually owed the tavern owner a lot of money, but he didn't think of it at the time. Later, he saw two men in nomadic robes coming, and he did not expect that the horse dealer would call the guards directly. He was captured by the guards, but he kept defending himself, using what he had learned for a long time: he insisted that he was wrong, that he had a horse that looked very similar, and this time he was just wrong. The horse dealer had no evidence that the horses had been stolen by Porcha, and he kept shouting: Can his eyes still deceive him?

The guards, tired of the endless bickering, took Porcha away first, for they did not believe that a dirty man dressed in such tatters could have a good steed. But they were not in a hurry to take Polcha into custody, and it was so hot that they were about to go to the tavern for a drink or two, so they also took Polcha over.

Porcha's memories always go back to that hot afternoon, when he fell into a place he didn't know how vile, dirty, and nasty, when he was dazed in that lifeless, dark, stinking gutter, when someone stretched out his arm and pulled him out of there, wiped him clean, smoothed his wounds, and bathed him in the sun again. When he was held in the tavern by the two guards, he didn't know how to get out, and he didn't think about it anymore, he had always acted on instinct, maybe he would find a chance to get out of the way, or Polgar would find a way to get him out, anyway, he didn't care much about that, he just watched the two guards drink and felt very thirsty, and wanted to beg for a drink. Then he saw a man in chain armor walk in from outside the house, run to the counter and order a can of wine. His face was tightly obscured by the Germanic helmet, and his two eyes were exposed, which were calm and gentle, and had the unique intimacy of a young man. Porcha thought that this was the dress of the ordinary Nord warriors, and that it was often worn by the pirates, but this young man did not give him the same feeling as the barbarians he had seen on the coast, but had a certain noble demeanor of the ancient Kalads. But he didn't think much more, he just felt thirsty, so he shouted bluntly: "Give me a drink, I'm dying of thirst."